A Moment in the Life...

Getting ready to go to the gym with Mr. CFP, the phone rang and I, perhaps mistakenly, answered it. Tearful voice on the other end of the line. Life is changing and no one has control. These are things that happen and even knowing these days will come, we find them hard to accept. I can do nothing. I can't change the circumstances, and it seems, I have no influence on another's determination to not accept what is.

I hung up the phone and rode to the gym, once again ruminating over the future, once again not being able to figure out a picture that can look anything but dark gray.

As soon as I was at the mat to stretch, my left foot felt on the verge of cramping up. It wasn't long until muscles contracted into painful, contorted ostrich toes. I don't really know what ostrich toes are like, but my foot looked as I imagine an ostrich foot would, all gnarly - plus pain.

Stoically, I rode the recumbent bike as fast as I could for 15 or 20 minutes - I can't even remember how long - before I gave up and started walking around, thinking that bodyweight pressure would at least give some relief. But noooooooo!

On the way home, the right foot, also started to cramp up. I guess it had felt left out of the drama. I hobbled into the house, ate a banana and took a potassium tablet. I ran a hot foot bath, which did nothing. I whined, gave up on the hot water and stood on a towel.

This is where it gets good...

Mr. CFP knelt before me like a knight in shining armor and almost kissed my feet. What he really did was, he used his hands to put pressure at the base of my toes. It was almost an ahhhhhh moment. But just almost. Then he told me to visualize roots going down into the earth. Having been a bodyworker, having received acupuncture for years, I've done this a gazillion times. This time, though, I put out all kinds of branches going this way and that. Instead of just seeing my roots going deep into the earth, I experienced them. I felt the cool, moist earth around them, I took in the nutrients that were bathing my roots.

And... I'm not kidding. The cramping and contortions stopped within a few minutes and I've lived happily ever after since then.

I could speculate on a lot here.

But I'm not going to.

I'm off to stand with my Women in Black vigil on this sunny, almost February day.

The Odd Trio #2

We met again, the three of us. Kind of impressive - the dedication. The belief that this might turn into something bigger than us - in some ways it already has. Actually, everything is already and always bigger than us.

We make time for this like it's important, this idea of creating a group composed of people from all religious/spiritual walks. So far it's just the Jew, Buddhist/Jew, and me, the Sufi/Questioner/Whatever-unveils-truther. We are pregnant with ideas, we are taking the time to incubate and delivery will occur when the time is right. Delivery meaning opening up the group for others to join us.

I'm finding some hard places in me and it doesn't feel good. I think that it doesn't feel good because I make the judgment that I shouldn't have hard places. Investigate the hard places. Hmmm... not truly hard. Fear there. Standing on a cliff and someone else over there has a different way of navigating it. Does that mean my way is wrong? Dammit! I must be right! But what if...??? Being right, being wrong. Neither feel so good. Gotta laugh at the strange notion that, ultimately, there even is a right and wrong way to navigate this journey.

Mostly it's amazing that the three of us move through the hours together, sharing diversity, learning, banging up against things and trying to figure out whether to go through, around, or over. Not feeling beat up at all, but instead noticing we're somewhat bigger than before.

Accepting Various Truths

Wow.

That's all I can say about it.

Wow.

Helen Thomas wrote an article titled Accepting Various Truths in the Albany Times Union that just really said the unsayable. I mean, we all know it, but it just hit me over the head.

The United States spends more for its arsenal than any other 10 countries combined. According to the Stockholm International Peace Research Institute, the U.S. accounts for more than 40 percent of the world's total military spending. China is in second place, at a relatively puny 5.8 percent.

If the U.S. defense spending bubble were ever to deflate, domestic job losses would be catastrophic, a stunning fact that raises the question of whether we can ever afford peace.

I guess there's the possibility that we could slowly reduce the military spending while increasing our spending to for renewable energy and humane efforts.

That will take a very big paradigm shift.

The Odd Trio

Yesterday afternoon I met with two men.

One is an old lover who has been a good friend for many years. We are like brother and sister - we can get on each others' nerves, but there is an underlying love and respect.

The other man and I were classmates through part of junior high and all of high school. Even with spending day after day in the same building for all of those years, we never met until a couple of weeks ago.

The three of us are starting up an interfaith dialog group - kind of like, but not really like, The Three Amigos.

We are a Jew, a Jewish/Buddhist, and a Whatever-I-Am.

I am a follower of the Sufi Way, a student of the Open Path.

Yesterday we practiced the structure that we want to use in the near future when we have a flourishing group of people from all walks of life coming together. We want to get the bugs out before we bring together people of many faiths. The topic that we each talked about yesterday was "Holidays". Through our time together, I learned new things about the Jewish holidays and I heard of holidays I'd never known existed, but mostly I learned about things dear to the hearts of these two friends. It was beautiful. Intimate. Heart-opening.

I saw the thread of commonality that weaves its way among our very diverse holiday observances - or in my case, a lack of observances. The common place isn't found in appearances, holy books, or practices. It seems to be woven from the common human need for connection to something bigger and the innate draw to natural rhythms. Holidays are also times for exercising our spiritual muscles, to help us "remember" as we go about our lives.

I truly believe that the way to peace in the world is through deep listening and understanding - seeing how we are all so much alike, even though our outerwear comes in many colors and sizes. I hope that this project that the three of us have started will be one little way that we can contribute to peace in the world.

My Jewish ex-lover/friend/brother and I have had some hard moments when discussing the Israeli-Palestinian problems. At this point, we don't really go there, even though he completely supported me in my now-aborted trip to Gaza. Who knows the amount of healing that may take place here!

Out of the Cave

Or maybe...

Off of the Chair


With the death of Ms. Kitty this past July, a big area of my office - the area where her dinner table and bathroom were nicely guarded by a baby gate so that a Buddha dog couldn't barge in and interrupt important matters - was left vacant. Since nature and my office both abhor vacuums, Ms. Kitty's area became a dumping ground for ThingsWeDon'tKnowWhatToDoWith. But NO MORE! Thanks to the wonders of CraigsList, in the space that was Ms. Kitty's home, there is now a big, spiffy, comfy chair and humongous ottoman in which to contemplate, luxuriate, cogitate marinate, and appreciate.

And...

With the death of my plans to go to the Middle East this past December, this week was left vacant. Since nature and my life both abhor vacuums, I grabbed this week by the, um, reins and claimed it as MINE. And throughout the week, I sat A LOT in my big, spiffy, comfy chair with its humongous ottoman and I contemplated, luxuriated, cogitated, marinated, and appreciated.

For Five Days!

It was wonderful.

I still haven't figured out the answers to some questions

But answers don't seem too important right now.

Things I Would Have Said

Last night, instead of partying or going out to a fancy dinner for New Year's Eve, over a hundred of us gathered in a local Unitarian Universalist church for a vigil in solidarity with the Gaza Freedom March and the people of Gaza. We listened to a speaker, some poets, and a musician. Instead of paying for alcohol to deaden our entry into the new year, we put our money together for aid to Gazans.

I was asked to say a little something at the close of the vigil. Below is what I thought I was going to say - until I changed my mind a few hours before the vigil. I dropped it all when I realized that I am not meant to say words that I have prepared. I can read something (which I didn't want to do) or I can just speak what comes up out of me, but if I want to say something, sans notes, that I've prepared, I will mess up big time.

So instead of telling the lovely story that I had prepared, I winged it last night. I said that the thousands in Gaza and Egypt who were bringing light to the situation in Gaza, the HUGE blue moon, and the people sitting there before me on New Year's Eve all gave me hope.

Here is the story that I didn't tell. I think it's a story worth sharing:

Starhawk is an American writer and activist who is in Cairo now as a part of the Gaza Freedom March. She tells of an experience that I think is a demonstration of the way to peace. She found herself in front of a line of Egyptian police officers who were standing arm in arm to block the marchers from moving. Before her trip, she had learned a few Arabic words, including the numbers one to ten. As she stood before the cops, she held up one finger and said the Arabic word for "one". The officer in front of her made eye contact and smiled. Soon, he and other officers along the line were teaching and encouraging Starhawk until she had counted to 100 in Arabic. She said that they changed from scary potential torturers to "men who were gazing at her with fond, paternal eyes like a father looks at a promising child. They became sweet young men doing a job that wasn't really their choice to begin with."

Starhawk built a bridge between the label "Egyptian cop" and the reality of "just another human".

Tonight on this last night of the year, the night of the blue moon, may peace come through our remembering that separateness is only an illusion.


(Photo from WorldBulletin.net)