Friday, April 27, 2012

The Vast Eternal

This morning a friend of mine shared this link on his facebook page. I thought, how nice...a chant. I'll just listen a second and see if I like it. Instead of listening a second, I was transported. Suddenly, the sheer numbers of those seeking the face of God rose up before me. The different pronunciation of hallelujah seemed like a lens that zoomed out from my chair in my house in my neighborhood in my country, and showed me a picture of pilgrims on their journey of faith in places and times I have never seen. Whatever their language or tradition, whatever their doctrine or understanding of their place in the universe, devout people everywhere are seeking to live their lives as best they can. It might mean an orange monk's robe. Or a priest's collar or rabbi's Yarmulke. But it also means a fireman's, or soldier's, or policeman's hat. It means the dusty boots of the conservationist, the exhausted arms of a mother at midnight rocking her newborn. It means the aid workers in war torn villages, the food delivery drivers in places wracked by famine, the medical teams in the ER. Sometimes the devout are so busy giving urgent care, there is little time or energy for hallelujahs. Let those of us who have the luxury of time lend our voices. To a good cause, to the positive experience of others who encounter us. To the hallelujah.

Monday, April 16, 2012

Lightening Our Load

My husband, Bob, and I were looking around at things not too long ago and asked ourselves what possessions we aren't using that might have a second life elsewhere. So he listed his beloved Indian Chief motorcycle on ebay. He just isn't riding it. I listed my cool Lemond road bike on Craig's List because I get neck trouble when I ride it.
That got me thinking about other things I carry with me that need to find a second life elsewhere. So here is my next posting on Craig's List:
One worry wart. Well used but still in good condition. Can be applied to children of any age and used without concern that it will run out. No expiration date or age limit for either the worrier or the worry-ee. Free to the first person who will pick it up.
One ego. Somewhat battered around the edges but still able to put on a good show of righteous indignation. Particularly useful in an election year. Will pay for someone to take it.
I hope they go fast on Craig's list. Just think of the extra room I'll have for enlightenment!

Tuesday, April 10, 2012


Children are the best reality check. We adults sometimes think we have this body of knowledge from having lived through so many things that makes us better equipped to understand life. But every now and then I see a child zero in on the basic, elemental things. Like a sense of wonder at the beauty of the earth. Like the need to touch the ones we love...holding hands, hugging, just touching. Like the pure joy of moving through space with the bodies we were given.
I hear the echoes of the child in the voices of adults who see the season's first lightning bug, or notice that the rose bush has burst into bloom. I used to roll my eyes at talk about our 'inner child'. It sounded contrived to me; like psycho babble. But somehow, writing for children makes me recognize the truth in the phrase. It's not that we become children again, because that very body of knowledge I mentioned earlier is a barrier to re-entry. Instead, it is being open to the incredible world that surrounds us, being mindful of the pure imagination it took to think of all creatures, great and small. And that most complex of all creatures, our fellow humans. An intentional shift away from dwelling on the trumped up worries of modern life can bless us again with joy in the simple gifts. A childlike joy. Not childish. But childlike. Because kids get the important stuff.