Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Humbug


Oh joy, the season of debt and religious contention is upon us!  I’m grouchy today.  My sweater is too tight, and now that it’s too late I’ve realized that this necklace is the one that turns my neck green.  Really, it’s ridiculous but true. 

My husband tells me that our bank account is teetering on the brink this week since the mortgage is due, and I wanted to buy a Christmas tree.  Put that on hold for now.  Good thing I didn’t splurge on tights and leggings at the Kmart last night.  I’m meeting a friend for coffee this week to do a planning session for the Heretics & Spirituality discussion group.  I will use my credit card to buy coffee and also to get a couple of grocery items tonight.

I’ve already received the first of what will no doubt be way too many Jesus-is-the-reason-for-the-season and keep-Christ-in-Christmas messages.  I shouldn’t get annoyed, but I can’t help it.  If you ignore historical facts and choose to believe a series of fictions, don’t expect me to play along, and please don’t interpret my lack of comment as agreement with you either. 

My sweater is tight because I’m chubby, but it’s a nice green with a V neckline.
I’m chubby because I have plenty to eat, indulge too much and exercise too little.
My necklace is a locket that opens.  Inside is a little Thai Buddha. 
My husband loves me and our daughter, and he pays careful attention to bill paying and account levels and due dates.
We have a warm, comfortable house, and the mortgage is necessary. 
I have a lot of family who think of me not just at the holidays but all year-round.
I have friends who share my beliefs and are interested in my ideas and opinions.
If I don’t go to the store we still have plenty of food to eat at home.

I’m not ready to retract my humbug entirely, but I have softened it to hum.  It’s just a little step now to    om mani padme hum.

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

NOT ONE LASTS


Everyone is familiar with Sandburg’s poem Nothing Gold Can Stay, but I like his Autumn Movement better for its lack of rhyme, the color and imagery and rhythms.  I suppose I also like it because I cry so easily that the poem makes sense to me at a gut level.

I am grateful for the impermanence of this beautiful, wretched life.  Good, wonderful, happy moments don’t last.  Like a swallow of sweet tea or a bite of toast, they are savored and gone.  Clinging to people, places and things only creates unhappiness in forms like greed and envy and jealousy.

Striving to be mindful, I am grateful for impermanence.  Pain, disappointment and obstacles don’t last either.  They fade, I grow and learn or, at the least, there are gaps in the hurt, places where I can breathe and feel the space. I must look at thing I fear.  I have to see and hear the person who makes me mad or makes me uncomfortable.  Then I know that I can understand myself through my perceived weakness, my anger, my discomfort.   Avoidance and intentional ignorance only create unhappiness.

 “…and the old things go, not one lasts.”  Thank you impermanence.  Read the Poem 

Monday, November 15, 2010

The People You Meet

Jeanna, my best friend, and I took a cruise the first week of October, from Charleston SC to the Bahamas.  It was our first time cruising and pretty amazing.  We were celebrating 25 years of friendship. 

We realized we were on a fairly "small" ship early on as we staggered through the corridors, left and then right and then left, following the rocking motion.  Jeanna was worried about getting seasick.  She was fine.  I got sick.  For four days afterward my ears continued telling my body that I was rolling gently right and left.  Not entirely pleasant while staring at the computer monitor.

People who had been on cruises before, on larger ships, said we felt the motion because our ship was smaller.  While docked at Freeport and Nassau, Bahamas, we saw cruise ships that were easily twice the size of our Carnival Fantasy.  Friends have asked me if it felt claustrophobic on the ship, but it never did to me.  The rooms and hallways are pretty much like being in a hotel.  Everything else is very open and large and comfortable.

Our first morning at breakfast we sat at a large, round table in the formal dining room, an older lady on my left.  She ordered a baked apple and lots of bacon.  Eventually we started chatting and introduced ourselves.  It was Ruth's 9th or 10th cruise, and she was with her daughter who used a scooter for a reason that was never made clear.  By the end of breakfast, we'd traded addresses and emails.  Jeanna and I ran into Ruth and her daughter in the gift shop once but then not again until the Charleston airport Saturday morning, heading home.  We've been emailing since then, exchanging bits about our lives and families.
We had supper one evening with Jeanette and Sue, sisters who had been on previous cruises together.  Sue was tall, blond, an avid photographer.  Jeanette was shorter, dark-haired, wore glasses and needed some serious dental work.  We ended up on the Nassau excursion with them.  Another evening we ate with Mike and his wife whose name I can't remember.  They were newlyweds.  Jeanna and I hung out a lot at the 21st Century bar, partly because of the bartenders, Dinesh, Ildiko and Edward, but also for the band that played there.  We loved our steward Rodrigo, a small man with a charming accent who was able to get us safety pins and always asked what we'd done that day or where we were headed next.

August 1985, I met Jeanna the first day of college, but we didn't connect until awhile later, during a fire drill.  She and her roommate and another girl were talking about their interrupted game of Trivial Pursuit.  I insinuated myself.  There is much history after that point25 years of worry and fret, illness, bad weather and bad driving and bad decisions, weddings, pregnancies and births, some arguments, many more hugs, a lot of tears.

The cruise ship, like college, was sort of a buffet for  the variety of people you can meet.  Like Mike the  chatty  truck driver from Georgia.  Yvonne from Florida, looking like she'd had way too many cigarettes and mixed drinks while she was waiting for her husband in the casino.  The young Jamaican couple, dancing, so hip and so beautiful.  Those two middle-aged women celebrating their friendship on a cruise, standing on the top deck with the wind screaming around them, sunning and sipping their cocktails, singing Hey Jude and waving their glow sticks, ordering cheesecake, coffee and a turkey sandwich for room service at 4:00 pm. 

What have I done, and where am I headed?  More importantly, who am I doing it with and who will I find along the way.

Friday, November 12, 2010

There Is No Spoon

Recently at the Gospels Group, someone said how God is not God's name.  I like that.  Then we were discussing the God who you praise and thank when you get good things and when "he" takes away the bad things.  IF he takes away the bad things, but if he was the reason the bad thing happened in the first place, to test you or make you stronger (setting the whole Satan thing aside for now) then, as P. put it, "God, what a bastard."  P. says he can't believe in that petty being who picks and chooses among us.  Exactly.
 
Why can't we STOP thinking of God as a being?  What happens when we finally quit anthropomorphizing God? What will you think about when God is no longer a person, even the most divine person?  How will you recognize God then?  How often, how much, what will it feel like?  What will happen to you when God is no longer a being?
 
I did this several years ago.  I stopped thinking of God as a person.  It was extremely liberating because when I stopped, then I felt like I truly found God.  I saw God everywhere, felt God, thought about God all the time.  It was like looking through the window of a house and finally just walking in, realizing that I'd never been outside at all.  The window I was looking through was made for me by someone else, taught to me from the time I was a small child and created for the sole purpose of keeping me away from God. 
 
Unlike those who drop off the theistic map though, I did not become an atheist or an agnostic (cowards!).  Instead, I started, for the first time in my life, to think about what I really believed and why.  I started creating my own theology and defining my spiritual beliefs.  It feels good.  So why the title of this blog?  Because I don't need someone else feeding it to me, and I no longer need their delivery tools.  I'm better off for that.  Maybe we all would be.