OK, I'm on the verge of packing my medicines and heading to Wall Street.
Not since the late 60's have I felt so energized and affirmed. I've lived through Presidents abundant and have favored some more than others. I won't bother naming them (though, for my money, Jimmy Carter was the best of the bunch) and now, as I approach 65, something is happening that makes my heart swell and my mind race.
I'm tired of hearing Media people keep asking, "What does Occupy Wall Street want?"
They want, and I want, that everyone to look around and see how deeply in the mire 'the American Dream" has sunk.
Here's what I want:
*that 'money' not run everything but people run stuff
*that the poor be cared for and enabled to not be poor
*that the rich be taxed and taxed and feel good that being taxed mean they are doing 'good'
*that every alien that enters this country be given a clear path to becoming a citizen of this country whether they entered legally or not
*that everyone who lives within our borders have health care
*that education be based on who is able, not who can pay and that even Harvard and Yale be tuition free (those two could afford it, sitting on billions of endowments)
*that everyone in the United States start thinking of "we" not 'me'
*that Environmental Protection be seen as a glorious necessity and not a 'problem'
*that Muslim-Americans be seen as "Americans", not "Muslims" (same for any hyphenated Americans of whatever prefix)
*that Kindness would replace Authority everywhere
*that the people we elect would 'serve' us rather than be seduced and disempowered by ideology
*that all of us might acknowledge that 'being an American' is a remarkable and privileged thing to be that calls each of us and all of us to be part of the greatest Tribe ever and forget what divides us
*that marriage be seen as something two people who love each other have a right to no matter what their gender
*that all of us agree that "getting there" will mean we ALL get there or none of us do
That's all I want. I may "occupy Cheshire"...."Occupy" wherever you are and lean into a dream and vision that leaves nobody out and makes us all a part of each other....Really.....
Ponder that.
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Monday, October 17, 2011
Being Luke
The last few days I've been watching our cat, Luke, with more interest than usual. He's a really interesting cat.
He was one of four not that long ago, but the other three died over the last couple of years. Luke has really taken to being an 'only cat'. I may have mentioned this before, but Lukie has always been our 'puppy cat'--he comes when you call him (unlike our Puli dog), he rolls over and shows you his belly when you walk by him, he begs for food along with the dog Bela when we're eating. And whenever one of us comes home, he comes running to greet us.
Yet, there are things about Luke that confound me. He has several sleeping places during the day: on top of the piano, in an upstairs window, in our bed (he's not allowed in the room at night because he walks on your face and wakes you up at 5 a.m. or so....but during the day he is on the bed a lot. And there is some place he sleeps that I don't know and can't find because sometimes I go looking for him and he seems to have evaporated from the house. But at 3 p.m., wherever he is, he comes down to the kitchen to be fed. If all our clocks were suddenly taken away, Luke would tell us when it is 3 p.m. so we'd know that hour, at least, every day.
He often sits on the table that is beside the desk where I sit and type this. He will sometimes lay on the table and put his head on my desk and look at me with those yellow eyes like he's saying 'here I am....I'd let you pet me now.' Luke keeps me neat because if I don't keep that table orderly, he knocks stuff on the floor beside me or down the back steps into the downstairs.
I also have been noticing his different speeds. Sometimes he just moves slowly, languidly, as if he had no where to go but was just going somewhere. Other times he races through the room and away, like something important is happening somewhere else that he needs to get to. And he has different approaches to the dog: carefully, as if stalking or being stalked; thoughtlessly, as if he knows what Bela will do; surreptitiously, not really sneaking up but more like testing the waters. I sometimes find them together in mid-day, sleeping on our bed in perfect peace and contentment. Sometimes, mostly when food is at issue, Bela will jump him and drive him away.
I have no idea what Luke thinks. He seems to have a schedule and routine that has nothing to do with me. He's always sticking his paw under our bedroom door as soon and he hears Bern or me stirring--it's an 1850 house, there are spaces under the doors.
But much of the day he operates on a rhythm incomprehensible to me. Disappearing, re-appearing, always there at 3 p.m., sometimes MIA all day. Bela is easy. He is seldom, except for his mid-day nap with Luke on our bed, more than a few feet from either Bern or me. His schedule is our schedule, whatever that is on a given day. Not Luke--his drummer is not my drummer but a different one.
It would be interesting but not surprising, I imagine, to be in Bela's brain. Dogs are pretty predictable, after all--"love me, love me, feed me, feed me, take me out, take me out"...stuff like that.
I would resist being Luke. It might be a labyrinth of a mind from which I could not extricate myself, a place from which I could not return.
Dogs are comfort and caring and need and consistency. Cats are finally Mystery embodied.
I wouldn't risk being Luke.
He was one of four not that long ago, but the other three died over the last couple of years. Luke has really taken to being an 'only cat'. I may have mentioned this before, but Lukie has always been our 'puppy cat'--he comes when you call him (unlike our Puli dog), he rolls over and shows you his belly when you walk by him, he begs for food along with the dog Bela when we're eating. And whenever one of us comes home, he comes running to greet us.
Yet, there are things about Luke that confound me. He has several sleeping places during the day: on top of the piano, in an upstairs window, in our bed (he's not allowed in the room at night because he walks on your face and wakes you up at 5 a.m. or so....but during the day he is on the bed a lot. And there is some place he sleeps that I don't know and can't find because sometimes I go looking for him and he seems to have evaporated from the house. But at 3 p.m., wherever he is, he comes down to the kitchen to be fed. If all our clocks were suddenly taken away, Luke would tell us when it is 3 p.m. so we'd know that hour, at least, every day.
He often sits on the table that is beside the desk where I sit and type this. He will sometimes lay on the table and put his head on my desk and look at me with those yellow eyes like he's saying 'here I am....I'd let you pet me now.' Luke keeps me neat because if I don't keep that table orderly, he knocks stuff on the floor beside me or down the back steps into the downstairs.
I also have been noticing his different speeds. Sometimes he just moves slowly, languidly, as if he had no where to go but was just going somewhere. Other times he races through the room and away, like something important is happening somewhere else that he needs to get to. And he has different approaches to the dog: carefully, as if stalking or being stalked; thoughtlessly, as if he knows what Bela will do; surreptitiously, not really sneaking up but more like testing the waters. I sometimes find them together in mid-day, sleeping on our bed in perfect peace and contentment. Sometimes, mostly when food is at issue, Bela will jump him and drive him away.
I have no idea what Luke thinks. He seems to have a schedule and routine that has nothing to do with me. He's always sticking his paw under our bedroom door as soon and he hears Bern or me stirring--it's an 1850 house, there are spaces under the doors.
But much of the day he operates on a rhythm incomprehensible to me. Disappearing, re-appearing, always there at 3 p.m., sometimes MIA all day. Bela is easy. He is seldom, except for his mid-day nap with Luke on our bed, more than a few feet from either Bern or me. His schedule is our schedule, whatever that is on a given day. Not Luke--his drummer is not my drummer but a different one.
It would be interesting but not surprising, I imagine, to be in Bela's brain. Dogs are pretty predictable, after all--"love me, love me, feed me, feed me, take me out, take me out"...stuff like that.
I would resist being Luke. It might be a labyrinth of a mind from which I could not extricate myself, a place from which I could not return.
Dogs are comfort and caring and need and consistency. Cats are finally Mystery embodied.
I wouldn't risk being Luke.
Saturday, October 8, 2011
With sincere apologies...
For two quarters today, West Virginia University's football team played nice with U Conn.
10-9 at the half.
Granted UConn won last year's game in overtime--I was regretfully there--after WVU fumbled about 321 times.
In the last 7 and a half minutes of the third quarter, West Virginia scored 23 points--three touchdowns and a safety. Mountain hospitality wore thin and UConn was swept away.
I don't mean to bring this up to rub it in--but to say that I'm sorry the trip to Morgantown was so unpleasant. West Virginian's usually treat guests more kindly.
43-16, was that it?
10-9 at the half.
Granted UConn won last year's game in overtime--I was regretfully there--after WVU fumbled about 321 times.
In the last 7 and a half minutes of the third quarter, West Virginia scored 23 points--three touchdowns and a safety. Mountain hospitality wore thin and UConn was swept away.
I don't mean to bring this up to rub it in--but to say that I'm sorry the trip to Morgantown was so unpleasant. West Virginian's usually treat guests more kindly.
43-16, was that it?
When Amish folks go bad
So, I read and watched this astonishing report today about some rogue Amish in Ohio.
It seems one 'tribe' of Amish have been invading the homes of other Amish and cutting the women's hair and the men's beards.
Somehow, from the Bible, the Amish people have discerned that women should never cut their hair and men must have a beard. So this terrorist Amish activity takes away all their authenticity and pride along with a lot of hair.
If I'd read this on April 1, I would have known it was an April Fool's joke--I mean, really, Amish amok, give me a break. It's like a Baptist bar or a Jewish pork chop. Stuff like this doesn't happen, does it?
I guess it does. God help us when the Amish start being violent. What's next--Hindu's killing cows, Muslims drunk and disorderly, Episcopalians eating salad with their shrimp fork?
Where does it all end, I ask you--Michelle Bachman supporting pro-choice and gay marriage....vegans opening a steak house...
When the Amish get out of control what chance do we have to be rational?
It seems one 'tribe' of Amish have been invading the homes of other Amish and cutting the women's hair and the men's beards.
Somehow, from the Bible, the Amish people have discerned that women should never cut their hair and men must have a beard. So this terrorist Amish activity takes away all their authenticity and pride along with a lot of hair.
If I'd read this on April 1, I would have known it was an April Fool's joke--I mean, really, Amish amok, give me a break. It's like a Baptist bar or a Jewish pork chop. Stuff like this doesn't happen, does it?
I guess it does. God help us when the Amish start being violent. What's next--Hindu's killing cows, Muslims drunk and disorderly, Episcopalians eating salad with their shrimp fork?
Where does it all end, I ask you--Michelle Bachman supporting pro-choice and gay marriage....vegans opening a steak house...
When the Amish get out of control what chance do we have to be rational?
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
I must be becoming a contemplative
OK, Ted told me today I hadn't blogged lately. So I will.
It started last night. While I was studying a website about the square mileage and population density of the states--don't ask, it's too long a story--I got this sudden message on my computer about a 'critical error'. The message stacked up message after message like a deck of cards. In just a moment I lost the internet. Then I noted that lots of my little icons had taken leave as well. I still had Solitaire and Hearts so I played awhile, imagining that somehow the Lord or Bill Gates would miraculously heal my computer.
Then I turned it off and turned it back on to realize all that was left was solitaire and hearts and the 'start' icon. So I played solitaire and went to watch the Yankee game, imagining that by some good fortune, all would be well with my computer in the morning.
When I turned it on today, my rotating screen saver of remarkable vistas of beautiful places was gone and my 'sticky notes' with a rough 'to do' list was all that was left besides hearts and solitaire and the 'start' icon.
So I played hearts--it pains me to admit that my addictive personality is focused on playing hearts these days.
Bern was going to talk with our friend John, who is my personal IT guy, the one who built my computer for me, so I told her to tell him I was down to games and 'start' and sticky notes.
He came up at 6 and started fooling with things that are as far from my ken as brain surgery and the string theory of physics and speaking Bulgarian. He allowed that it seemed pretty simple and he did computer magic for a ten minutes or so and then we had dinner while the computer (I guess) talked to itself and did things I neither understand or want to understand.
Then I went up to my office to watch the computer talk to itself and tell me in terse terms what it was talking to itself about while John and Bern stayed downstairs and talked. John is very smart and very funny. Bern prefers the company of smart people and I prefer the company of funny people so it is little wonder John is our good friend.
Finally, the computer finished its internal conversation and started windows. I got on line, I checked out the other things I use and John was about to leave when I clicked on my "libraries" icon and found it empty.
So he came back up and worked for 45 minutes or so restoring all the stuff in my libraries--photos, music, documents.
I watched him for a while and then did some other stuff and came back and watched him some more. He told me several times that he'd 'never seen anything like this before' and that he wasn't sure how, or if, he could fix it.
Here's what was MIA:
*family photos I'd stored...not a lot but some I love.
*a little music--I listen to NPR instead of music, so there wasn't much there either.
*My novel "The Igloo Factory", my fantasy novel "The Princess and the Sailor", my murder mystery "Murder on the Block".
*about 400 sermons and sermon outlines.
*notes for my novel "The Bananaman" which once was written but then lost and I've been trying to reconstruct.
*all my poetry
*all the stuff I've written for Bern for Christmas (She gives me some graphic art each year--collages, paintings, etc, she creates and I write her poems and stories...that's what we give each other for Christmas.
*all the letters I've written that I've saved.
*my folder about the Middlesex Cluster and my hours and mileage log
*my folder and class outlines for the courses I teach at U.Conn in Waterbury
Granted, lots of that stuff is in hard copy and wouldn't have been lost. But a significant amount of it--all the sermons and poems and Middlesex stuff and U.Conn stuff and the letters would be lost forever.
The good news is, John recovered all of it through clicks and key strokes I'll never understand.
The better news is, in the midst of all that stuff being lost, I was, as best as I can describe it, 'eerily calm', like I was watching something happening that had nothing to do with me, like I was detached and safe when a whole bunch of stuff that means a great deal to me was gone from this universe.
I even remember thinking, during the Lost time, "I should be upset and anxious and distracted". Instead, what I really felt was, "all will be well". Maybe it was my faith in John to recover all that stuff, maybe.
But maybe, after all this time, I am becoming a contemplative---fiercely 'involved' with the world and simultaneously 'detached' emotionally.
Something to ponder. Recently I have found myself able to be 'present' in important ways to what was going on around me, but to, at the same time, be able to have 'distance' from it all emotionally.
It's what I've always sought to be in my ministry and my life--"a non-anxious presence".
It seems to be coming naturally these days.
Ponder, I will. Reflect, I must. (As Yoda would say....)
It started last night. While I was studying a website about the square mileage and population density of the states--don't ask, it's too long a story--I got this sudden message on my computer about a 'critical error'. The message stacked up message after message like a deck of cards. In just a moment I lost the internet. Then I noted that lots of my little icons had taken leave as well. I still had Solitaire and Hearts so I played awhile, imagining that somehow the Lord or Bill Gates would miraculously heal my computer.
Then I turned it off and turned it back on to realize all that was left was solitaire and hearts and the 'start' icon. So I played solitaire and went to watch the Yankee game, imagining that by some good fortune, all would be well with my computer in the morning.
When I turned it on today, my rotating screen saver of remarkable vistas of beautiful places was gone and my 'sticky notes' with a rough 'to do' list was all that was left besides hearts and solitaire and the 'start' icon.
So I played hearts--it pains me to admit that my addictive personality is focused on playing hearts these days.
Bern was going to talk with our friend John, who is my personal IT guy, the one who built my computer for me, so I told her to tell him I was down to games and 'start' and sticky notes.
He came up at 6 and started fooling with things that are as far from my ken as brain surgery and the string theory of physics and speaking Bulgarian. He allowed that it seemed pretty simple and he did computer magic for a ten minutes or so and then we had dinner while the computer (I guess) talked to itself and did things I neither understand or want to understand.
Then I went up to my office to watch the computer talk to itself and tell me in terse terms what it was talking to itself about while John and Bern stayed downstairs and talked. John is very smart and very funny. Bern prefers the company of smart people and I prefer the company of funny people so it is little wonder John is our good friend.
Finally, the computer finished its internal conversation and started windows. I got on line, I checked out the other things I use and John was about to leave when I clicked on my "libraries" icon and found it empty.
So he came back up and worked for 45 minutes or so restoring all the stuff in my libraries--photos, music, documents.
I watched him for a while and then did some other stuff and came back and watched him some more. He told me several times that he'd 'never seen anything like this before' and that he wasn't sure how, or if, he could fix it.
Here's what was MIA:
*family photos I'd stored...not a lot but some I love.
*a little music--I listen to NPR instead of music, so there wasn't much there either.
*My novel "The Igloo Factory", my fantasy novel "The Princess and the Sailor", my murder mystery "Murder on the Block".
*about 400 sermons and sermon outlines.
*notes for my novel "The Bananaman" which once was written but then lost and I've been trying to reconstruct.
*all my poetry
*all the stuff I've written for Bern for Christmas (She gives me some graphic art each year--collages, paintings, etc, she creates and I write her poems and stories...that's what we give each other for Christmas.
*all the letters I've written that I've saved.
*my folder about the Middlesex Cluster and my hours and mileage log
*my folder and class outlines for the courses I teach at U.Conn in Waterbury
Granted, lots of that stuff is in hard copy and wouldn't have been lost. But a significant amount of it--all the sermons and poems and Middlesex stuff and U.Conn stuff and the letters would be lost forever.
The good news is, John recovered all of it through clicks and key strokes I'll never understand.
The better news is, in the midst of all that stuff being lost, I was, as best as I can describe it, 'eerily calm', like I was watching something happening that had nothing to do with me, like I was detached and safe when a whole bunch of stuff that means a great deal to me was gone from this universe.
I even remember thinking, during the Lost time, "I should be upset and anxious and distracted". Instead, what I really felt was, "all will be well". Maybe it was my faith in John to recover all that stuff, maybe.
But maybe, after all this time, I am becoming a contemplative---fiercely 'involved' with the world and simultaneously 'detached' emotionally.
Something to ponder. Recently I have found myself able to be 'present' in important ways to what was going on around me, but to, at the same time, be able to have 'distance' from it all emotionally.
It's what I've always sought to be in my ministry and my life--"a non-anxious presence".
It seems to be coming naturally these days.
Ponder, I will. Reflect, I must. (As Yoda would say....)
Friday, September 30, 2011
eyebrow crap
I always forget, but each year when the weather starts to change the the high and low temperature gets 20+ degrees apart, I get crap in my eyebrows.
I have rather full eyebrows and what happens is that a scaly mess starts to form on the inside of each eyebrow and inexplicably spreads across the bridge of my nose.
Some years I've scratched it with the dirtiest part of the body--my fingernails--and it's gotten infected and I have to have topical and oral antibiotics. What a pain that is, a runny, pus filled bridge of my nose isn't a way to make people love and adore you.
I've experimented over the years and hope I can keep it from getting viral this year. (Maybe I should wear rubber gloves so I don't scratch it too bad.)
Even when I rub it, it's like the snow in those snow globes. Maybe I should put a reindeer and Santa on my nose and people would think the crap was part of a theme face.
Who knows.
I have rather full eyebrows and what happens is that a scaly mess starts to form on the inside of each eyebrow and inexplicably spreads across the bridge of my nose.
Some years I've scratched it with the dirtiest part of the body--my fingernails--and it's gotten infected and I have to have topical and oral antibiotics. What a pain that is, a runny, pus filled bridge of my nose isn't a way to make people love and adore you.
I've experimented over the years and hope I can keep it from getting viral this year. (Maybe I should wear rubber gloves so I don't scratch it too bad.)
Even when I rub it, it's like the snow in those snow globes. Maybe I should put a reindeer and Santa on my nose and people would think the crap was part of a theme face.
Who knows.
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Somewhere under the rainbow....
So it happened like this: I was on my way to a meeting in Portland and as I drove down Rt. 10 I saw an enormous double rainbow that seemed to stretch from Hamden to Southington. I even pulled into a strip mall to look at it. About a dozen people were in the parking lot taking pictures with their cell phones. (I don't have a cell phone that takes pictures, but if I did I would have taken one.)
It was a perfect bow. We could see it from one end to the other. The lower bow was bright and radiant. The upper bow was pale, almost opaque.
Simply astonishing.
I kept driving and when I turned onto I 691, I realized I was going to drive under the two rainbows. Lord knows how I didn't wreck, staring up as I tried to drive. In fact, there should have been multi-car pileups on both sides of the Interstate. Everyone, I'm sure, was craning their necks to see the bows when they passed beneath.
It was simply one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen. Jaw-dropping wondrous.
I'm not one who traffics in misty-eyed emotionalism about God. An associate Rector I worked with me used to say, wisely, "God is not a feeling." And God isn't.
But those double rainbows touched me deeply (and probably almost got me killed looking up at them driving 75 mph!)
I won't stand by this and will deny I ever said it in the future. And, those rainbows, for just a moment made me imagine that all this stuff I talk about all the time about God might, maybe, perhaps, be True.
It was a perfect bow. We could see it from one end to the other. The lower bow was bright and radiant. The upper bow was pale, almost opaque.
Simply astonishing.
I kept driving and when I turned onto I 691, I realized I was going to drive under the two rainbows. Lord knows how I didn't wreck, staring up as I tried to drive. In fact, there should have been multi-car pileups on both sides of the Interstate. Everyone, I'm sure, was craning their necks to see the bows when they passed beneath.
It was simply one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen. Jaw-dropping wondrous.
I'm not one who traffics in misty-eyed emotionalism about God. An associate Rector I worked with me used to say, wisely, "God is not a feeling." And God isn't.
But those double rainbows touched me deeply (and probably almost got me killed looking up at them driving 75 mph!)
I won't stand by this and will deny I ever said it in the future. And, those rainbows, for just a moment made me imagine that all this stuff I talk about all the time about God might, maybe, perhaps, be True.
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