The Courage To Teach

Thinkin' and movin' around

"There's only one corner of the universe you can be certain of improving, and that's your own self."—Aldous Huxley

So I'm heavily into the throes of interviewing for a new job, trying to figure out some life-path "right fit" issues, pondering loss of the old job, and missing a dear community that is changing faster that I can predict......

The main theme of yesterday for me was the people we meet, and how we consider them, and how we in turn consider ourselves. . In a particularly busy day of getting hit in the face with lots of unavoidable decisions, I was lucky to have spent a morning chatting with a fFriend who happens to be be a "birthright Quaker". After all my extensive Quaker readings and musings, I was eager to find out how that experience was different from my intense, but brief (VERY brief) involvement with Quakerism. Very eager. Jumpy-puppy-dog-at-the-kibble-bowl eager, in fact.

Astounding conclusion? What of that life-lived-as-a-Quaker experience, seeing the world through that lens of inner light? Apparently not quite as astoundingly life-changing as I thought. In fact, in his particular case, the chronological length of his Quaker path doesn't really seem to be important at all.

The DEPTH however of that "Quakerish" nature is apparent in his every moment, every action, every word he utters. Because despite an alarmingly long list of academic achievements and accolades, he's still just a guy treating everybody the way they deserve to be treated, with kindness and fairness and equality. And maybe being a Quaker for a long time helps to form those actions. Maybe it's in his nature first to be that way, and that's why he stayed a Quaker. And maybe none of that background really matters, especially if you're the one he's speaking with!

The latter part of my day was spent discussing my own list of past experiences, in an interview process that I had suspected would be me "competing" with others for the job. It didn't turn out that way at all - I met a wonderful principal and shared some great time swapping stories of my happier moments of teaching, watching kids grow and blossom into musicians, but more importantly as the people of value that they're destined to be. Since we just finished our busy concert week, those kiddos were foremost in my mind, along with the wonderful staff at my school who I will miss dearly if I go. Those thoughts certainly colored my discussions in the interview process. I am not quite sure if that was "acceptable" but boy did it feel great. I left not really concerned about "getting the job", but so pleased I'd had a great afternoon sharing some wonderful moments of teaching.

I have been doing a lot of musing, on Sundays and I guess all the other days too, of about how meeting for worship goes so much better when I arrive already emotionally/mentally/spiritually prepared for it. I have been very aware as of late that my best days in general are always the ones that start with my 5:30 a.m. walk on the beach. I missed that walk yesterday, as it was raining, but I still got the centering I needed from that early conversation over coffee. The focus on people and not just the "stuff" of my own life helped me greatly. Apparently I was doing quite well later on in the day, still in that mindset when in that interview.

So as I look to all the open "windows" on my laptop - a c.v. that needs a little tweaking, emails from parents to my administration pleading with them to keep me on staff, an imposing deadline for an all-but-the-check-and-hit-send doctoral program application (stall stall stall), a new school song to be arranged and which may be my legacy as I leave...

It would help me to stay in this mindset, and just focus on the to-do lists not as items, but taking them each as one person at a time. And isn't it nice that yesterday I got a gentle nudge in that direction when I most needed it?

One of the most vivid experiences [of individual worship] on my part was sitting quietly for at least an hour before a picture by the Dutch painter Vermeer, and absorbing its sheer beauty... The room was crowded with people, but I was oblivious of them, as I was equally oblivious of the passage of time. As a result of this act of concentration the vision of this particular masterpiece is indelibly stamped on my mind which has forever been enriched by it. I know that my ordinary acts of seeing and observation have been sharpened by that experience. There was drawn from me an acknowledgement of the greatness of the artist and his painting and I caught, with awe, the light of his inspiration and creativeness. Further, something was given to me that I can only describe as, literally, a transcending of the normal everyday world. This quite simple secular act was for me a truly worshipful experience.
George Gorman, 1973

Sesame Street Changing The World

I can't get enough of Sesame Street. It's smart, funny, educational in a real way that kids need to see, and it addresses serious issues by example, not by preaching. From Newsweek:

But the show was never just about improving test scores. Perhaps the most radical part of the Sesame DNA has always been its social activism. From the start, Sesame targeted lower-income, urban kids—the ones who lived on streets with garbage cans sitting in front of their rowhouse apartments. The show arrived on the heels of riots in Washington, Baltimore, Cleveland and Chicago, and the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr. Chester Pierce, a Harvard professor who founded the Black Psychiatrists of America, was one of the show's original advisers, and he was acutely aware of the racism his 3-year-old daughter would face in that hostile time. "It was intentional from the beginning to show different races living together," says David Kleeman, executive director of the American Center for Children and Media. "They were very conscious of the modeling that kids and parents would take away from that."

In 1969, that was still a radical notion in some corners of the country. Here was a TV show putting African-Americans on a level playing field with white characters, showing them not as servants or entertainers, but as equals. (Though it should be noted that when the show premiered, some African-Americans took offense to Oscar the Grouch, who accepts his poverty rather than fighting against it, as a demeaning stand-in for inner-city blacks.) An integrated program aimed at impressionable children was too much for the good people of Mississippi. The state's commission for educational television banned the show in May 1970. Cooney called it "a tragedy for both the white and black children of Mississippi," and news reports saw her outrage and raised it. The state finally reversed itself, 22 days later. When you think about what the world might have looked like without Sesame, you can't dismiss the impact of putting Gordon and Susan into America's living rooms. Is it too much of a stretch to claim that the man in the White House might not be there without Sesame Street? "I like to think," Cooney says, "that we had something to do with Obama's election."

Sometimes simplicity is the way to go. Not just with kids, with all of us. Sesame Street was successful in defining a new "normal" in its shows. Not just in this country, but all over the world.

The Tragic Gap - Parker Palmer

Profound statements for the difficult time that we find ourselves in.

Even When God is Silent.

I believe in the sun even when it is not shining.

I believe in love even when feeling it not.

I believe in God even when God is silent.

About Michael Horvit's composition:

On the evening of November 9- 10, 1938, a notorious Nazi spasm of violence against Jews occurred in cities throughout Germany in which storm troopers and civilians vandalized property and committed other outrages of physical intimidation. The broken windows from these destroyed homes and shops became the historic metaphor for the memory of that night as Kristallnacht, “The Night of Broken Glass.” In 1988, to observe the fiftieth anniversary of Kristallnacht, Michael Horvit wrote “Even When God Is Silent,” as a commission from Congregation Emanu-El, in Houston (where Dr. Horvit served for twenty-five years as music director). In his preface to the anthem, Dr. Horvit describes the specific inspiration for the work: “Allied troops found [a] poem written on the walls of a basement in Cologne, Germany. It had been written there by someone hiding from the Gestapo. It is one of the most poignant poems I know: an extraordinary testimony of faith under horrible circumstances.”

The Silence Before Bach

Great film. Kinda hard to digest at first, a series of Bach-inspired (??) vignettes. But I liked it quite a bit, especially after singing the b minor Mass last weekend.

"Those who sing pray twice" - Bach

Waging A Living

Tender and eye-opening, WAGING A LIVING takes an unwavering look at America’s working poor--people who work hard and play by the rules but never seem to get ahead. Over three years, the film follows four hard-working individuals as they strive for their piece of the American Dream but find only low wages, dead end jobs, and a tattered safety net in their way. As they raise children, try to get a college degree, and take care of sick relatives, these working class heroes make you root for them to overcome seemingly insurmountable obstacles. Mixing stunning facts about poverty and social injustice with the personal testimony of real-life workers, two-time Academy Award-nominated director Roger Weisberg cuts through the fog of politics and prejudice to bring the disturbing reality of the working poor into the light of day. " (from Amazon)

What I liked about this film is that it takes "them" (people who are stereotyped as "lazy", don't work "hard enough", etc) and makes them "us". So many people in this country are poor, and doing what they are "supposed" to do to get ahead - working hard everyday. With healthcare and other issues sinking us even further, it seems more stories like this are coming to light everyday. This film is a good reminder that all of us, or someone we know, could be just a few steps away from poverty.

Here we go again...

“Afghanistan taught us an invaluable lesson . . . It has been and
always will be impossible to solve political problems using force. We should
have helped the people of Afghanistan in improving their life, but it was a
gross mistake to send troops into the country.”
– Retired Red Army General Boris Gromov.

I'm working through Haass' newest book right now, doing a lot of thinking about war around memorial day. I am glad so many come out to pay tribute to brave men and women - but wouldn't it be nice to honor them, and the ones that are still alive, by deciding NOT to go into yet another war?

I don't really know enough about Afghanistan to accurately state all the facts yet, but I am learning pretty quickly. I am too young to really have known anything experientially about Vietnam, and Iraq #1 started when I was also really too young to have an opinion. I Had this false hope that perhaps the Iraq history and mess-ups would be so recent that we might learn form our mistakes. Now I fear we're on our way into Afghanistan, in surprisingly similar fashion, and we haven't learned a darn thing.

Some Afghanistan facts from AFSC

Cuba

Forget About Fidel

Things are changing in Cuba, however slowly. The United States should be a part of shaping their direction.

- Richard Haass (Newsweek)

The American policy of isolating Cuba has failed. Officials boast that Havana now hosts more diplomatic missions than any other country in the region save Brazil. Nor is the economic embargo working. Or worse: it is working, but for countries like Canada, South Korea and dozens of others that are only too happy to help supply Cuba with food, generators and building materials. Those in Congress who complain about the "offshoring" of American jobs ought to consider that the embargo deprives thousands of American workers of employment.

Great article in Newsweek by Richard Haass. The full text can be found here.

I have a very different perception of Cuba now that I have spoken with people who have recently visited there. I didn't really have ANY notion of what the country was like before, but now I keep thinking of the people and our similarities.

Obama's "war of choice"

Lovely. I'm getting more concerned about Afghanistan and Pakistan every day. I will seek out this new book.

Financial Trouble.

Joni Mitchell, Yeats, etc

I suppose if you're going to listen to depressing "things fall apart" news of the world, Joni Mitchell says it best....

"Alas, Mother! we have been murdering the Lord's people," - Edward Wanton

A smattering of facts:

”A society of Quakers built the third meetinghouse in 1678, at Belle House Neck, a peninsula in the North River near present Little's Bridge (Route 3A). This Quaker Society later moved upriver to the Edward Wanton shipyard and homestead farm. Much later the society moved its meetinghouse to the present location in Pembroke. Edward Wanton, a shipbuilder who became a Quaker, came to Scituate in 1661. He attracted many of this dissident controversial element in the region. They refused to take part in the town and colony governments or to swear an oath of fidelity to the king, would not attend the Congregational churches, did not register their vital statistics and conducted their own marriages. Harsh laws concerning the treatment of Quakers were passed in both Plymouth and Massachusetts Bay Colonies in 1658. The Quakers were repeatedly fined, tortured, imprisoned and banished from the colonies for infringements of the social order.”
(This information was taken from a publication by Cynthia Hagar Krusell; ISBN 0940628-43-0; entitled Plymouth County, 1685)

Edward Wanton Res. Boston 1658 In 1661, owned a farm of 80 acres a little below Dwelly's Creek in Scituate, Mass., and land on Cordwood Hill and Hooppole Hill. There were executions of Quakers in 1659, 1660, and 1661. He was an officer of the guard on one or more of these occasions. From Mr. Deane, in his history of Scitutate: "He became deeply sensible of the cruelty, injustice, and impolity of these emasures; was greatly moved by the firmness with which they submitted to death, and was won entirely by their addresses before their execution. He returned to his house saying, "Alas, Mother! we have been murdering the Lord's people," and, taking off his sword, put it by, with a solemn vow never to wear it again. From this time he took every opportunity to converse with the Friends, and soon resloved to become a teacher of their faith." It is said that he built the first Quaker meeting house in Massachusetts. Religion: Quaker

Don't Know Much About History.....

Really, I don't. Embarrassingly little, except for a smattering of music and art history, and a few key facts that were taught to me in rhyme or song (Columbus sailed the ocean blue...)

Most required U.S. history seems to end around World War II. I hated the 3 semesters of high school history I took, so I never endeavored to take the "advanced" history classes, of which at the time there were few anyways in our High School.

I bring this up because I now find myself reading a lot of history. Mostly in a Quaker context, but in order to know what happened to the Quakers, you have to know what was happening in general at the time, thus my inquiries. History's not all the boring, dusty facts that I once believed it was. In fact, I'm finding myself rather enjoying the stories of people who found themselves in unbelievably difficult circumstances, only to perservere and triumph. And it REALLY HAPPENED.

Well, sort of. I'm now most curious about the stories that are NOT told in our history books. The point of view of those people who did not have access to education, to literacy, to the luxury of the free time to write or tell their tales. My current explorations are all hovering around 1650-1850. I still know very little about that time period, but I am learning.

I have also found some fabulous Scituate connections. I've been researching Edward Wanton, who was a jailer who witnessed the taking to the gallows and hanging of Mary Dyer on Boston Common. He was so moved by her condition and fate, that he moved to Scituate and became a Quaker himself. His history is mentioned in Old Scituate and a few other books that I hope to see at the Scituate Public library. Two of his sons relocated to Rhode Island and became governors, and that is where Scituate, Rhode Island first got its name - from us in MA! Still working on finding his grave, and the remains of his shipyard on the North River which was a South Shore landmark for years.

I'm totally hooked on the Quaker history. I feel like in some small way it is now MY history, and the relevance is what I lacked in my meager high school studies.

School Song.

Done. Made the office staff CRY with JOY. Somedays, a very good job!

Oh Wampatuck

Oh Wampatuck Wampatuck place of my childhood
Your halls and your classrooms are so dear to me
Our days are spent learning and playing and growing
With teachers and family we’re grateful to see.
We stand here together
this time we’ll remember
With laughter and friendships
we’ll have for all days.
Oh Wampatuck Wampatuck place of my childhood
We’re proud of our school and our community.

The Old Oaken Bucket

Working on writing a new Wampatuck School song today (in my spare time!). I needed an old folksong to pair it with - and in a nod to Scituate's history, I am working with this:

The Old Oaken Bucket

How dear to my heart are the scenes of my childhood
When fond recollection presents them to view
The orchard, the meadow, the deep tangled wildwood,
And ev'ry loved spot which my infancy knew
The wide spreading pond, and the mill that stood by it,
The bridge and the rock where the cataract fell;
The cot of my father, the dairy house nigh it,
And e'en the rude bucket that hung in the well.
The old oaken bucket, the iron bound bucket,
The moss covered bucket that hung in the well.

The moss covered bucket I hailed as a treasure,
For often at noon, when returned from the field,
I found it the source of an exquisite pleasure,
The purest and sweetest that nature can yield.
How ardent I seized it, with hands that were glowing,
And quick to the white pebbled bottom it fell
Then soon, with the emblem of turth overflowing,
And dripping with coolness, it rose from the well.
The old oaken bucket, the iron bound bucket,
The moss covered bucket that hung in the well.

These words were written in 1818 by Samuel Woodworth. They were originally sung to the traditional tune Jesse, The Flower o Dumblane (aka Jesse, the Flower of Dunblane). In 1870 they were set to this melody (Download Midi File ) by English composer George Kiallmark which was written for Moore's Araby's Daughter.

Bonus! Before 1922 is public domain, so now I just need Wampatucky words (thank goodness - I haven't a clue what all this falling cataract stuff is about!)

Bach and beyond

Well, I have not been blogging, but I have certainly been writing in my journal, and collecting little food for thought along the way as well. Bach Mass in b minor was this weekend. I can't really put into words just yet how important and well-timed this whole experience was for me.

I spent this semester learning and struggling with my fellow choristers with a piece of music that creates in me when I hear it some sort of transcendent spiritual experience that cannot, or should not, be described. When I have left rehearsals I've often had classical music playing in my car on the drive home - and I hear it differently after singing Bach's music. I am suddenly more aware of the interplay between the parts, the overall composer's intent. This interplay isn't just musical - this semester I have been aware (painfully, at times) of the interplay between the people I encounter.

The query in meeting spoke to me directly this week - it was in part a quote from George Fox:

Be patterns, be examples in all countries, places, islands, nations, wherever you come; that your carriage and life may preach among all sorts of people, and to them. Then you will come to walk cheerfully over the world, answering that of God in everyone." - George Fox, 1624-1691

Do I walk cheerfully in a world that is not at all a cheerful place at times, much to my dismay? Do I take the time not to be overwhelmed, and to remember that although I may struggle with my role on the planet and in the "big picture", I can certainly project goodness and light in my attitude in my own way whenever possible?

I had many a small moment of tremendous insight, this weekend alone. So much that I am still grappling with the sorting out of it all. But perhaps just knowing I still have the ability to change the way I see the world around me is the first step towards changing the rest.

William Stafford, as usual, says it best:


When I Met My Muse

I glanced at her and took my glasses
off--they were still singing. They buzzed
like a locust on the coffee table and then
ceased. Her voice belled forth, and the
sunlight bent. I felt the ceiling arch, and
knew that nails up there took a new grip
on whatever they touched. "I am your own
way of looking at things," she said. "When
you allow me to live with you, every
glance at the world around you will be
a sort of salvation." And I took her hand.

A must-read from Haven Kimmel

Haven Kimmel writes amazing stuff - check out her books sometime. But now she has written what I think is the single best argument I have heard yet for the LEGAL passing of gay marriage rights. Not only a constitutional argument, but one that clearly states what the hetereosexuals might LOSE is they keep up this ridiculous, discriminatory path (I like the appeal to the greed of the heterosexuals).

I can't quote from it, because I can't decide which paragraph is the most important. But as someone who's had this on the brain for awhile now, it was great comfort for me to read.

Oh, and this is Haven Kimmel - who also wrote the GREAT blog post explaining how yes, the Quakers are EXACTLY like the Amish (LOL). For this I will excerpt just one question/answer:

Q: Are the Quakers the same as the Amish?

A: Although the Amish were founded by a Dutch Anabaptist during the Protestant Reformation, Jakob Ammann, and thus were considered an order of the Swiss Mennonites; and although they speak German (or Pennsylvania Dutch); and although they keep themselves entirely separate from the ‘world,’ or the apostate; have no electricity or phones, and drive horse-drawn buggies on the open road, and the Quakers were founded by George Fox and Margaret Fell during the English Reformation, and spoke English; and although Quakers take it as a directive to change the world through acts of philanthropy and social justice, such as The American Friends Service Committee (which won the Nobel Peace Prize); and although we drive cars and I am typing this on a laptop plugged into a surge protector in an electrical outlet, YES, we are the same as the Amish. We are, essentially, the Amish.

A few more questions...

(As if I didn't have enough to ponder already)


1. What am I being asked to let go of in order to make more room for the spirit in my life/our life together?

2. How can I ask for support to make time and space available to listen for answers and be faithful in following the direction that might arrive? How can I create ways to be accountable to making this question the central motivation for the decisions I make each moment?

There's a couple "biggies" for my beach meditations - thanks to New England Yearly Meeting. Related to summer sessions directly, but how much more related to my employment/medical/parenting/life transitions now? Letting go is the big issue - fear of the unknown is the obstacle, making a creative leap is the reward. As Parker Palmer says, I find myself in "door closes" mode for the moment - and perhaps a door can't open until I'm ready to notice it.

Fitting in

You don't want a million answers as much as you want a few forever questions. The questions are diamonds you hold in the light. Study a lifetime and you see different colors from the same jewel. Richard Bach

How do I relate to others (and to myself) when they do not meet my expectations? An interesting question, and I think another clue to how I felt at Quarterly meeting (keeps coming back... must still be a lesson to learn therein).

I recently learned that some others at that meeting (the people who I feel mostly hold opinions similar to mine) also held a certain level of discomfort. Knowing this instantly made me feel "better" - but why? Because I needed confirmation that my reactions were acceptable, normal, and to be expected.

This then led to more discomfort for me. In how many situations do I not have the ability to simply sit back and listen, without judgement, to what my inner voice is telling me? And isn't that what the Quaker path is all about? Would I have been less likely to feel "okay" with my reactions if I knew that they were solely mine?

I've been doing a lot of reading lately about chronic illness, and how those who get along with their disease the most successfully are those who seem to create a system, treatment regimen, health and lifestyle that works for them as individuals. Not at the expense of others around them - but in consort with the rest of their lives. A substantial complaint I hear from people who are moderately afflicted or disabled is their inability to feel "normal" and react with the world and community as they are expected to. We all seem to have a natural need to make ourselves "fit" into the existence our peers and community have planned for us.

This seems to be a recurring theme for me in many areas of my life. What do I love most about teaching? It's the ability to provide a safe space for learning within the four walls of my classroom. To create a space where kids can grow and explore and be who they are without the added discomfort of "fitting in". Helping them to acknowledge who they are as individuals, and modeling for them how to treat others who may be unlike them as people of value too.

Perhaps all I really wanted in that Quarterly meeting was to know I was in a space where I felt as safe as I hope those kids do within my classroom. Emotionally safe, intellectually safe. And I already feel that way within Amesbury meeting. It just sort of happened, without warning, and although I am at a loss for words to explain it, I treasure the fact that I don't have to - and I can just sit within it and feel peace.

I'd like to feel that peace within other meetings too. And this does not mean agreeing with everything (or anything!) that is said, but rather in holding a trust and faith in the group's ability to hold conflict in a way that supports and enlighten us all into new meanings. I still think a piece of this, for me, is getting to know these people called Quakers from different walks of life more personally. When "them" has the opportunity to become "we", even with conflict, we may just build greater relationships that allow us all to listen and act upon our own inner teachings.

Snaphots.

A sudden concentration of attention on a rainy August morning. Clusters of bright red berries, some wrinkled, some blemished, others perfect, hanging among green leaves. The experience could not have lasted more than a few seconds, but that was a moment out of time. I was caught up in what I saw: I became a part of it: the berries, the leaves, the raindrops and I, we were all of a piece. A moment of beauty and harmony and meaning. A moment of understanding.
Ralph Hetherington, 1975

(For this guy it's berries and leaves, for me - waves and a craggy shore and a well-loved lighthouse)

This afternoon was a tough one for me - medically I took a nosedive. However, I was able to rest, and tomorrow I have some time for more rest and solitude in the midst of a busy week. I was glad I was able to start today at the lighthouse. Tommorrow will finish with Bach. Pretty good bookends, regardless of what's in between!

Tuesday.

After a great night of restful sleep, I am sitting at school with a very open schedule today due to MCAS testing. Which is surprisingly okay with me - I have a lot of cleaning and organizing of music to do, and unlike past years, I'm trying to get it done on "company time". Kids played great at our last concert, so we're just coasting and polishing and bonding before they head off to big scary middle school.

Last night's rehearsal was fantastic. Gerry mentioned to us "there's so many notes in this (b Minor mass) - how did he manage to get every one RIGHT?" I concur. Singing this work for the first time has given me a chance to really get to know it, and there's musical twists and turns within that are absolutely astounding.

And the depth of this musical experience has nothing to do with where I am employed, how and where I completed my music degree.... so maybe today I'm reflecting a bit on how to "keep the music" around me if my job and time with my musical colleagues goes away. And perhaps the vehicle's already right in front of me.

I have an interesting dilemma brewing today - Maille may have gotten into the Amesbury preschool as a 4 day student. Which would mean no working for me, at least at this job, there's no way to make that "fit". I'm not sure if this is the case, but I took the time to listen carefully to my own feelings about it before I knew details on the outcome. I have always said that having Maille's educational needs met (as dictated most recently by her IEP) would be my top priority - and it still is. Ironic that I get this letter the same week I may also be making other employment decisions. I guess life is indeed what happens while you're busy making other plans....

Patience. (or... the Quaker time-warp)

I was reminded Saturday (and Mon-Fri, by some others as well) that the key to figuring out where I fit in (to Quakers, my employment, the world in general) might well be patience.

At first glance, I don't seem cut out to be a Quaker in the patience department. At all. But as I spent some time musing on this, I realized that becoming more patient with this process might actually be happening, and if I start to see all that I am encountering these days in that context, I find my way into new perspectives.

From the time I was four years old, pretty much every few years or so until now, I've been told I am either very ill, or may be getting sicker. My arthritis problems (and these days, the Hashimoto's syndrome as well) started at such an early age, I think it became a part of me to just wonder not if but when I would end up in a wheelchair or similarly incapacitated, as so often predicted. Most days I choose to live in the hope that those severe problems won't happen rather then the fear that they will. Some days that plan works better than others. My clarinet-playing/music-major struggles were not a good decade, for example.

So..... couple those underlying events with a family environment that values "what you do" as "who you are", and I have a recipe for disaster when it comes to a more patient existence. I never know when those career/family/"success" goals are going to get yanked away from my grasp, like my ability to play the clarinet was so quickly and without warning. Kind of a ticking time bomb I choose to ignore.

The space of the Quaker meeting stops that clock from ticking. I can be completely present, with little regard for the self-imposed critique, or the "to-do list" that I usually carry around with me. For the first few weeks of this, I was a little overly concerned with the "expectant waiting" ministry angle of it all. For now, it seems just being able to shut myself up (inwardly speaking) is pretty mystical in and of itself. Divine messages (and I get those too) are just a bonus.

I have spent much time lately thinking about how my previous positive "Quakerly" encounters in life led me to where I am now. Perhaps what I saw as negative experiences might just be the things that kept me in those meetings thus far, knowing I needed the spiritual practice that on first glance is not at all suited for my "doer" efficient lifestyle.

And when I am feeling really centered, when all this Quaker mumbo-jumbo is working for me, I can bring that silent, patient space outside of the Quaker meeting. Like in that early morning I ended up sharing a quite profound conversation outside Portland's "Mr. Bagel" with Marty, a homeless fellow who has quite a perspective on what we as a society choose to see (like I had any energy after that to bother to hear Matthew Fox!). Or when Lee from the chorus shares with me the Verdi-requiem-kidney-donation story (that'll get its own post it's so happily bizarre). Or when my fFriend Alex and I spend time sorting through some remnants of her life, trying to decide where the value lives for her now.

All this patience is getting a little exhausting. But I'm slowly working my way to a place where I can live it without so much mental drama. Slowly. With patience.

Moving right along...

Before you embark on any path ask the question: Does this path have a heart? If the answer is no, you will know it, and then you must choose another path. The trouble is nobody asks the question; and when a man finally realizes that he has taken a path without a heart, the path is ready to kill him. At that point very few men can stop to deliberate, and leave the path. A path without a heart is never enjoyable. You have to work hard even to take it. On the other hand, a path with heart is easy; it does not make you work at liking it. Carlos Castaneda


So after a fabulous rehearsal with the Newburyport Choral Society and Mr J S Bach, I find myself considerably lightened of a few burdens. I teach because I love to do so - I am often told what I do is "amazing" - but it's really pretty easy when you love what you do. I'm letting "them" take away the joy from me. It was never "theirs" to begin with.

So what's the path for me? The ed biz. Somehow. Creating communities where kids feel safe and respected and challenged and valued. Everybody wants that - and I've created it once, I can do it again, somewhere new if necessary. Just another piece of the puzzle....

Some Meeting for Learning Queries

I used to carry these around in my pocket while working on my graduate degree. Probably about time I print them out again. They are from Parker Palmer.

Do I come to learning prepared for a genuine meeting between myself, other persons, ideas and texts?

Do I try, In teaching and learning, to stay close to what I know experientially, and do I take care to ask the same of others?

Am I willing to devote the energy necessary to engage my whole self in the learning process, and especially to cultivate those aspects of myself which are underdeveloped?

Do I take full advantage of the community of learning by sharing my insights with others, and by willingness to test myself against their experience? Do I help foster the learning community in this way?

Do I appreciate that the consequences of learning will be different for different people, and am I open to unexpected consequences for myself?

Do I accept the possibility that meeting for learning may change not only my mind but my life?

The Newspaper on the INTERNET? No Way!

Funny how this predicts exactly where we are now - and yet we still didn't see it coming, the loss of newspaper sales.

images. bathing suit season. hhmmph.

A Ritual To Read To Each Other

If you don't know the kind of person I am
and I don't know the kind of person you are
a pattern that others made may prevail in the world
and following the wrong god home we may miss our star.

For there is many a small betrayal in the mind,
a shrug that lets the fragile sequence break
sending with shouts the horrible errors of childhood
storming out to play through the broken dyke.

And as elephants parade holding each elephant's tail,
but if one wanders the circus won't find the park,
I call it cruel and maybe the root of all cruelty
to know what occurs but not recognize the fact.

And so I appeal to a voice, to something shadowy,
a remote important region in all who talk:
though we could fool each other, we should consider--
lest the parade of our mutual life get lost in the dark.

For it is important that awake people be awake,
or a breaking line may discourage them back to sleep;
the signals we give--yes or no, or maybe--
should be clear: the darkness around us is deep.

William Stafford

Feeling The Music

I can't sing Bach's B minor mass and hurt at the same time.


I am not sure exactly what it is - I think Bach's music (or at least this particular work) requires, demands, accesses all my emotional brain space, so if I'm physically hurting (arthritis and the like) or emotionally hurting (life changes looming big on the horizon) I'm a wreck.


Like have to stop singing. On the very verge of weepiness, in fact.


Our conductor made mention of the emotional qualities of this work, and how he tells his church choir at funerals that sometimes they have to just keep singing and hold it together - and this is the same. I agree. I'm hoping to be able to follow that directive.


This has never happened to me like this. In college, even when in the last throws of those awful days where I was fighting extreme pain to try to keep playing the clarinet, I was still able to just keep plowing along. The experience was never musical, and most likely harmful, but yet I perservered...


There'll be none of that now. I have recently developed this habit of telling people I "see the world differently" in regards to my new home with the Quakers and their (our) practices. I'm wondering how this musical experience plays into my daily way of seeing the world. I seem to have difficulty bottling up emotion and forcing it away. Only to resurface on another day anyways. So perhaps all this strum and drang is a little more efficient, albeit hard to wrap my head around right now.

Messages

A Message from Space

Everything that happens is the message:
you read an event and be one and wait,
like breasting a wave, all the while knowing
by living, though not knowing how to live.

Or workers built an antenna -- a dish
aimed at stars -- and they themselves are its message,
crawling in and out, being worlds that loom,
dot-dash, and sirens, and sustaining beams.

And sometimes no one is calling but we turn up
eye and ear -- suddenly we fall into
sound before it begins, the breathing
so still it waits there under the breath --

And then the green of leaves calls out, hills
where they wait or turn, clouds in their frenzied
stillness unfolding their careful words:
"Everything counts. The message is the world."

~ William Stafford ~

I've been reflecting quite a bit on messages. I guess this whole Quaker practice of vocal ministry reframed my thinking a bit, although I'm one of those people who tends to look for a message in everything, thus my probably reflections this week. I've been trying to lean into my life a bit more and just figure out what message it holds for me. Why so much consternation regarding a job that is probably not a true vocation, at least not where I find myself now? Is it the final letting go of previous images of myself? Why do I seek to define this situation in terms of old paradigms?

Parker Palmer talks often not of "way opening", but "way closing". And something does have to close in order for something else to open. So that's where I am today. Watching. Waiting. Trying to greet all this change and the chaos that follows with an open heart so I don't miss the message.

Torture supported by frequent churchgoers?

From the Boston Globe:
The Pew Research Center's Forum on Religion & Public Life last week reported a finding that at first blush is stunning: the more often one attends religious services, the more likely one is to say that the use of torture against suspected terrorists is at least sometimes justified. And white evangelical Protestants are the most likely subgroup to offer at least some support for torture, while those who are not affiliated with a religious denomination are the least likely.

The full article cites the Pew Center's findings well. I am not sure if I am shocked by this - my take son the torture issue is that it's always presented in a certain way, and then it leads to a forgone conclusion. I think religion does this "here's your positioning" move quite well, and there may be evidence of it here.

Here's the Quaker take, at least that of New York Yearly Meeting's:

Update: QuakerQuaker is discussing this as well...

Before and After

At Carrie Newcomer's last show, she sang a new song called Before and After. It has been ringing in my head ever since, and it's an appropriate posting here for "new blog day one".

She spoke of how so much of our lives we separate into "before" and "after" - perhaps the birth of a child, a graduation, a death - the "big stuff". More often these days for me the separations occur in the small wonderment. As I lean into my life with more heart, these very little moments appear as big ones.

we live our lives from then until now
By the mercy received and the marks on our brow
To my heart I collect what the four winds will scatter
And frame my life into before and after

I sent last evening with some fFriends learning about a recent trip to Cuba. Their tale was of a large journey, heavy construction and immense effort. And yet, what struck me as most valuable were their small reactions, interactions with the Cuban people, efforts on both sides to learn and to grow and nurture in little ways that are really "big" indeed. I'm hoping to remember that lesson - but I suspect I would not have heard the message if I was not already on such a perceptive path.