Living with open hands . . . in a world of clenched fists
Thursday, 18 June 2009
-
no longer immune
What has happened to the barrier?What has happened to the cushion?What has happened to the front, the façade, the mask I used to don so quickly, so conveniently, so comfortably?I used to answer the question, “how are you?” with “fine” . . . and really mean it.But now I’m . . .No longer immune.Every breeze slams the thin skin of my heart with startling impact.“Tenderness comes from pain.” The lyrics of this Sade song echoes through my whole being. I feel everything, deeply, extremely, painfully, joyfully, relentlessly.What happened to “comfortably numb”? That comfortable numbness of living above the ground, in the clouds, removed from the toughness of life, isolated from the sorrow of others. Out of sight, out of mind, they say. And it works. We turn away and it no longer exists.What no longer exists? Who have we turned away from? What have we lost in turning away from life, from people, from the raw reality that surrounds us?Insulated, isolated, immune.Then the gold is taken through the fire.The dross of insulation, isolation, immunity is burn off as we are no longer able to turn away. That comfortable numbness can no longer be found.I used to be strong. By strength, I meant insulated, isolated, and immune. Hidden away.Now, in my weakness, I am strong. I can feel all of life. I can feel with full compassion and empathy.No more hiding. No more protecting myself from life. Fully human, fully alive.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~What is it that you were given?I mean from the loss.After, what was taken.That very thing you could neverlive without.The person or place;the secret, or circumstance—now that it is gone,or has been found out,and you can no longer call it foundation,What is it that you were given?You know, and I know, this:There is a hollowing out.Something comes and opens you uprightdownthemiddleand from that moment onyou are no longer immune to this world.You wake, you wander,every familiar, now a foreign.You walk as through wateruntil you make it back to your bedand finally, even there—your sheets; your own pillow’s scent different,as if daily someone repaints your room, displaces something,disturbs a cherished memento.You see,sometimes we are emptied.We are emptiedbecauseLife wants us to knowsomuchmoreLight.--What is It That You Were Given? by Em Claire © 2006
Wednesday, 03 June 2009
-
community: a matter of life and death?
“There was no suicide, no alcoholism, no drug addiction, and very little crime. They didn’t have anyone on welfare. Then we looked at peptic ulcers. They didn’t have any of those either. These people were dying of old age. That’s it.” (Malcolm Gladwell, Outliers, p. 7)
“Living a long life, the conventional wisdom at the time said, depended to a great extent on who we were—that is, our genes. It depended on the decisions we made—on what we chose to eat, and how much we chose to exercise, and how effectively we were treated by the medical system. No one was used to thinking about health in terms of community.
(In finding the answer to this mystery of health) they had to look beyond the individual. They had to understand the culture he or she was a part of, and who their friends and families were, and what town their families came from. They had to appreciate the idea that the values of the world we inhabit and the people we surround ourselves with have a profound effect on who we are.” (pp. 10-11)
Can living in community dramatically affect the physical health of a whole town?
The Roseto Mystery
“Roseto Valfortore lies one hundred miles southeast of Rome in the Apennine foothills of an Italian province. In the style of the medieval villages, the town is organized around a large central square.” (p. 3) A group of Rosetans immigrated in 1882. They called their new settlement, Roseto, Pennsylvania.
“Stewart Wolf was a physician. He studied digestion and the stomach and taught in the medical school at the University of Oklahoma. He spent his summers on a farm in Pennsylvania, not far from Roseto—although that, of course, didn’t mean much, since Roseto was so much in its own world that it was possible to live in the next town and never know much about it.” (pp. 5-6)
Wolf recalls, “One of the times when we were up there for the summer—this would have been in the late nineteen fifties—I was invited to give a talk at the local medical society. After the talk was over, one of the local doctors invited me to have a beer. And while we were having a drink, he said, ‘You know, I’ve been practicing for seventeen years. I get patients from all over, and I rarely find anyone from Roseto under the age of sixty-five with heart disease.” (p. 6)
“Wolf was taken aback. Heart attacks were an epidemic in the United States. They were the leading cause of death in men under the age of sixty-five. It was impossible to be a doctor, common sense said, and not see heart disease. Wolf decided to investigate.” (p. 6) “The results were astonishing. In Roseto, virtually no one under fifty-five had died of a heart attack or showed any signs of heart disease. For men over sixty-five, the death rate from heart disease in Roseto was roughly half that of the United States as a whole. The death rate from all causes in Roseto, in fact, was 30 to 35 percent lower than expected.” (p. 7)
“Wolf brought in a friend of his, a sociologist from Oklahoma named John Bruhn, to help him. ‘I hired medical students and sociology grad students as interviewers, and in Roseto we went house to house and talked to every person aged twenty-one and over,’ Bruhn remembers. This happened more than fifty years ago, but Bruhn still had a sense of amazement in his voice as he described what they found. ‘There was no suicide, no alcoholism, no drug addiction, and very little crime. They didn’t have anyone on welfare. Then we looked at peptic ulcers. They didn’t have any of those either. These people were dying of old age. That’s it.’” (p.7)
“Wolf’s profession had a name for a place like Roseto—a place that lay outside everyday experience, where the normal rules did not apply. Roseto was an outlier.” (p. 7)
Next they studied the dietary practices expecting to find an answer. They found that the Rosetans were cooking with lard in stead of the much healthier olive oil they had used in Italy. They ate high fat meat and too much sugar. 41% of their calories were from fat! They smoked heavily and struggled with obesity. They were not prone to exercise either. Next they studied their genetics to see if there was a connection. Other people from the same region of Italy did not share the remarkable good health. They studied the region of Pennsylvania to see if there was something environmentally that would influence such outcomes. “Wolf combed through two (local) towns’ medical records. For men over sixty-five, the death rates from heart disease in Nazareth and Bangor were three times that of Roseto. Another dead end.” (p. 9)
“What Wolf began to realize is that the secret of Roseto wasn’t diet or exercise or genes or location. It had to be Roseto itself. As Bruhn and Wolf walked around the town, they figured out why. They looked at how the Rosetans visited one another, stopping to chat in Italian on the street, say, or cooking for one another in their backyards. They learned about the extended family clans that underlay the town’s social structure. They saw how many homes had three generations living under one roof, and how much respect grandparents commanded. They went to mass at our Lady of Mount Carmel and saw the unifying and calming effect of the church. They counted twenty-two separate civic organizations in a town of just under two thousand people. They picked up on the particular egalitarian ethos of the community, which discouraged the wealthy form flaunting their success and helped the unsuccessful obscure their failures.” (p. 9)
“’I remember going to Roseto for the first time, and you’d see three-generational family meals, all the bakeries, the people walking up and down the street, sitting on their porches talking to each other, the blouse mills where the women worked during the day, while the men worked in the slate quarries,’ Bruhn said. ‘It was magical’”. (p. 10)
“When Bruhn and Wolf first presented their findings to the medical community, you can imagine the kind of skepticism they faced. They went to conferences where their peers were presenting long rows of data arrayed in complex charts and referring to this kind of gene or that kind of physiological process, and they themselves were talking instead about the mysterious and magical benefits of people stopping to talk to one another on the street and of having three generations under one roof. Living a long life, the conventional wisdom at the time said, depended to a great extent on who we were—that is, our genes. It depended on the decisions we made—on what we chose to eat, and how much we chose to exercise, and how effectively we were treated by the medical system. No one was used to thinking about health in terms of community.
“Wolf and Bruhn had to convince the medical establishment to think about health and heart attacks in an entirely new way: they had to get them to realize that they wouldn’t be able to understand why someone was healthy if all they did was think about an individual’s personal choices or actions in isolation. They had to look beyond the individual. They had to understand the culture he or she was a part of, and who their friends and families were, and what town their families came from. They had to appreciate the idea that the values of the world we inhabit and the people we surround ourselves with have a profound effect on who we are.” (pp. 10-11)
Wednesday, 27 May 2009
-
presence: living from the source
Living from one’s Source is an experience that is described across all cultures and religions in very different terms but at the heart of its description, the experience sounds very similar. It is a spiritual human experience that is life changing.
“We are not human beings having a spiritual experience,
We are spiritual beings having a human experience.”
Some of the ways it is described are:
Connected to Source
Ground of Being
Living with Open Hands, Open Mind, and Open Heart
Contemplation
Power of Intention
Divine Intention
Living in the Spirit
Living a life:
Full of Wonder and Awe of all creation (things and people)
Full of Gratitude and Appreciation of all creation (things and people)
Presence is another way to refer to this connected, grounded, whole experience of life. Living fully present and open to all of life is giving attentive attention and being aware of all. Not just listening, but hearing. Not just looking, but seeing. Not just perceiving, but seeking understanding. Not just feeling, but sensing.
What I’m beginning to understand is that living a life of contemplation is more than living here and now with senses open to all. It is all of that AND leaning forward to the future as it emerges. This is an understanding that has been a long time in coming for me. The only way I can visualize this understanding is through imagery. In my post “Ocean Wind” I described the exhilaration of standing for a half hour on the deck of a cruise ship in the Caribbean Ocean. The wind hitting me must have been at least 30 miles an hour and left my whole body tingling with sensation. This means that the particles of water in the wind that were 44 feet away one second ago are now hitting me in the face. The future wind of 44 feet away becomes the present wind as it hits my face. This is the way life is too. We live life in the now but not apart from the emerging future. In reality, Presence is lived at the very edge of where the future becomes now and the present becomes the past. If we are to live life as the most fully human, fully alive experience, our attentive attention and full awareness needs to include all of the future possibilities as it emerges from anywhere as anything.
Whether it is a conversation with the homeless man on the corner
or with the child on the sidewalk acting out for attention,
whether in the reaction to the car pulling in front of us
or in reaction to the “the callous and vicious things humans display” (Bruce Cockburn lyrics, Beautiful Creatures),
whether in the attention given to an innovative idea coming from months of uncovering problems
or the expression of an artists heart in some medium of art.
Presence is living from your heart, from the Source of your being, in the Spirit.
Presence is living.
Presence is living fully awake.
Presence is living with attentive attention.
Presence is not missing a word your child is speaking to you.
Presence is not being absent in the presence of another human being.
Presence is not being absent in the presence of creation.
Presence is feeling the wind on your face, the sun energizing your body.
Presence is realizing that in every encounter with another human being, they (nor you) do not walk away the same; they leave a changed person for the better or for the worse; are you a giver or a taker? Is your presence life-giving?
Presence is leaning forward, anticipating the future, ready for anything, ready for everything, open to all possibilities, seeing reality with your eyes wide open, sensing the situation with your heart, on the edge of your seat, ready to act from your heart as the opportunity emerges, seeing it, not hesitating, but acting from the heart right on time.
In Presence, another force comes to play, synchronicity. When we are fully present, living in the power of intention, people just show up, doors open, conversations happen, ALL RIGHT ON TIME!!! Life aligns itself with the power of love as we take action from our heart. This is not just spiritual talk, this has been proven through research done globally over 10 years (see Theory U by Otto Scharmer). And it is the way of creation designed by our Creator.
Such mystery, such wonder, such awe, all too much to fit in my brain, but never too much to fit in my heart; reducing me to a puddle of appreciation and gratitude.
Friday, 08 May 2009
-
what i believe . . .
People are the solution to the problems that confront us.Technology is not the solution, although it can help. We are the solution -- we as generous, open-hearted people who want to use our creativity and caring on behalf of other human beings and all life.
Relationships are all there is. Everything in the universe only exists because it is in relationship to everything else. Nothing exists in isolation. We have to stop pretending we are individuals who can go it alone.
We humans want to be together. We only isolate ourselves when we're hurt by others, but alone is not our natural state. Today, we live in an unnatural state -- separating ourselves rather than being together.
We become hopeful when somebody tells the truth. I don't know why this is, but I experience it often.
Truly connecting with another human gives us joy. The circumstances that create this connection don't matter. Even those who work side by side in the worst natural disaster or crisis recall that experience as memorable. They are surprised to feel joy in the midst of tragedy, but they always do.
We have to slow down. Nothing will change for the better until we do. We need time to think, to learn, to get to know each other. We are losing these great human capacities in the speed-up of modern life, and it is killing us.
The cure for despair is not hope. It is discovering what we want to do about something we care about.
Margaret Wheatley (2002)
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.Robert Frost (1915)
Tuesday, 21 April 2009
-
malignancy
Cancer (medical term: malignant neoplasm) is a class of diseases in which a group of cells display uncontrolled growth (beyond the normal limits), invasion (intrusion on and destruction of adjacent tissues), and sometimes metastasis (spread to other locations in the body). (Wikipedia) . . . often resulting in death.
A cancer has been uncovered . . . and it is malignant. It is wide spread and growing; those infected with it are afraid to cry out. Expressing this ailment is anti-American, it goes against the American way of being a self-made, independent person . . . a pioneer. It shows itself in the eyes, a look of despair, eyes that are glazed over, afraid to feel, afraid to identify what is eating away inside . . . afraid . . . of the creeping “nothingness” . . . of the resulting impending “nullification” of the human spirit.
The cancer is loneliness. It is more than just being alone. Loneliness follows the infected person to the mall, through the city, and, most strongly, inhabits the pews of the American church.
Mass consumption and the race toward success have killed community. We isolate ourselves in neighborhoods with picket fences, automatic garage door openers, decks built in the back (not front) of homes, air conditioning, and oak doors. We can live right next door to someone and not see them for a month; all the while the soul of the person infected steadily dies. The pain of this cancer hurts so bad it causes physical pain in the body and alters the chemicals of the brain, often causing depression.
In the church, it is alleviated for a minute, on the way through the foyer while saying “hi” to all of the very friendly people. You walk through slowly, savoring the time . . . available only once per week. Then it settles back in, more painful than ever, in the pews of the church . . . one of the loneliest places on the face of the earth. Why? Because, we are so close to what could be community life. A church service could and should be the culmination and celebration of a week full of community life and service, prayer, and sharing meals together. But instead, all of those wonderfully friendly people say, “Hi, how are you this Sabbath?” We chit chat, we ‘worship’, we drink coffee and chit chat some more . . . then we say “Good bye. See you next Sabbath. Good bye ‘till then.” Everybody has things to do that are more important than building the community life of the church . . . in such a hurry to go where? I’m still here . . . “Can we pray for you this month?” “Can we give you food for a meal next month?” When all the while the most inexpensive thing is withheld; community. I can’t speak for others, but I walk out that door more lonely and more in pain than ever . . . because I know the early church was something completely different. Because I know I can’t survive without love, without community, without connecting to others daily, without reaching out and serving together. I can’t. But I’m left stepping out into a sort of nothingness, created by major life crashes that have left me extremely vulnerable and in extreme need of relationships that go deeper and provide a level of emotional and spiritual support necessary to just wake up each morning.
How do we intentionally create community?
- How do we reach those that do not have their needs met in an intimate relationship in their home?
- How do we support those single parents that are dying from exhaustion, dying from lack of conversation, dying from the extreme pain of loneliness?
- How do we support those children of single parent families that are taking the brunt of this pain?
- What about people with health and disability issues that leave them extremely vulnerable and in need of community?
How do we be the mind, heart, and hands of Jesus on earth, in our city, in our neighborhood, on our block????
How can the church have any impact without intentionally building community life?????
How can we make disciples without discipleship in the context of a diverse, caring community?
How many churches can calculate the impact they have had in their neighborhood, on their block?
- What is the number of households where we have alleviated hunger (for a day, for a lifetime)?
- What is the number of households where we have alleviated unemployment?
- What is the number of households where we have alleviated child abuse?
- What is the number of households where we have alleviated health issues?
- What is the number of households where we have alleviated poverty?
- What is the number of households where we have alleviated LONELINESS; the least costly and most contrary to Christianity, the one thing that the early Christians solved first?????
We start by starting . . . by doing something. And we start by listening . . . we listen, then we do, then we listen, then we do more . . . learning as we listen.
Do we as the church really exist
~ as the body of Christ in relationship to
the broken hearted,
the torn and tattered,
the battered and bruised,
the least of these,
the poor in spirit;
or
~ as bricks and mortar and programs and pews and signs by the roadside with quaint sayings and friendly people that say ‘hi’ on Sundays . . . and return to their isolated ways on Monday through Saturday?
Do we believe in Jesus?
Do we believe in His words?
Do we believe in His works?
Do we believe in His life and death?
Do we believe in the purpose of His life and death?
Do we believe in the church that was born as a result of His life and death?
OR do we believe in the independence of the American Way? Extreme consumption and isolation from community; supported by the striving after the wind of career success?
Or have we even thought about what we do and why and who is left out in the cold . . . such extreme cold?
"The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind, to release the oppressed.” (Luke 4:18)
While Jesus was having dinner at Matthew's house, many tax collectors and "sinners" came and ate with him and his disciples. When the Pharisees saw this, they asked his disciples, "Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and 'sinners'?" On hearing this, Jesus said, "It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. But go and learn what this means: 'I desire mercy, not sacrifice.' For I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners." (Matthew 9:10-13)
Jesus said, "For judgment I have come into this world, so that the blind will see and those who see will become blind." (John 9:36)
Is the church, by design, ready and intentional about serving the mainstream masses . . . or the lost sheep . . . the least of these . . . the poor in spirit . . . the broken hearted . . . the torn and tattered . . . the battered and bruised?
“The Lord is close to the broken hearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” (Psalm 34:18)
“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” (Matthew 5:3)
"They also will answer, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or needing clothes or sick or in prison, and did not help you?' "He will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.' "Then they will go away to eternal punishment, but the righteous to eternal life." (Matthew 25:32-46)
Are we the hands, mind, and heart of Christ?
Who are we the hands, mind, and heart of Christ to?
Really? . . . no, really?
I think not . . . because we never really intended it.
Tuesday, 07 April 2009
-
the death of a cult
What follows sounds to me like some radical cult trying to pervert the American Way.Who are these people, really? And where did they go?
"They do not keep for themselves the goods entrusted to them.
They do not covet what belongs to others.
They show love to their neighbors.
They do not do to another what they would not wish to have done to themselves.
They speak gently to those who oppress them, and in that way they make them their friends.
It has become their passion to do good to their enemies.
They live in the awareness of their smallness.
Every one of them who has anything gives ungrudgingly to the one who has nothing.
If they see a traveling stranger, they bring him under their roof.
They rejoice over him as over a real brother, for they do not call one another brothers after the flesh, but then know they are brothers in the Spirit and in God.
If they hear that one of them is imprisoned or oppressed for the sake of Christ, they take care of all his needs. If possible they set him free.
If anyone among them is poor or comes into want while they themselves have nothing to spare, they fast two or three days for him. In this way they can supply any poor man with the food he needs.
This, O Emperor, is the rule of life of the Christians, and this is their manner of life."(Aristides 137 AD)
"Those godless Galileans feed our poor in addition to their own!"(Emperor Julian the Apostate 331-363 AD)
"You who are God's servants are living in a foreign country, for your own city-state is far away from this city-state. Knowing which is yours, why do you acquire fields, costly furnishings, buildings, and frail dwellings here? Anyone who acquires things for himself in this city cannot expect to find the way home to his own City. Do you not realize that all these things here do not belong to you, that they are under a power alien to your nature? . . . Acquire no more here than what is absolutely necessary.
Instead of fields, buy for yourselves people in distress in accordance with your means."
(Hermas, 140 AD)
"He called Abraham and commanded him to go out from the country where he was living. With this call (God) has roused us all, and now we have left the state. We have renounced all the things the world offers." (Justin, martyred in 165 AD)Pretty weird stuff, eh? It makes me really curious, though. So I set out several years ago to find these weirdos. Can’t seem to find anything that resembles this in America today.
Must be some cult that died centuries ago . . .
All the believers were together and had everything in common.
Selling their possessions and goods, they gave to anyone as he had need.Acts 2:44-45
After they prayed, the place where they were meeting was shaken. And they were all filled with the Holy Spirit and spoke the word of God boldly.
All the believers were one in heart and mind. No one claimed that any of his possessions was his own, but they shared everything they had.
With great power the apostles continued to testify to the resurrection of the Lord Jesus, and much grace was upon them all.
There were no needy persons among them. For from time to time those who owned lands or houses sold them, brought the money from the sales and put it at the apostles' feet, and it was distributed to anyone as he had need. Joseph, a Levite from Cyprus, whom the apostles called Barnabas (which means Son of Encouragement), sold a field he owned and brought the money and put it at the apostles' feet.Acts 4:31-37
What was it that died many centuries ago and that is next to impossible to find here in America?
"The question is not 'are we political?' but 'how are we political?' . . . not are we relevant? but are we peculiar?"(Shane Claiborne)
Are we a part of our culture, or do we stand against the cultural currents of the day?
Do we live as everyone else, or is there something unique about us that has an impact on those around us?
Do we live invisible lives or do heads turn because of our peculiar ways of making a difference?What happened to this strange cult, this “manner of life”?
“I like your Christ, I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ.”
(Gandhi 1869-1948 AD)
Most ordinary people who lose their faith are not overthrown by philosophical argument, they are disillusioned by the churchmen they meet.
(C. S. Lewis 1898-1963 AD)
“If you will stop here and ask yourselves why
you are not as pious as the primitive Christians were,
your own heart will tell you,
that it is neither through ignorance nor inability,
but purely because you never intended it.”
(William Law, Quoted by C. S. Lewis in The Problem of Pain)
What happened to this strange cult, this “manner of life”?
Maybe we never intended it . . .
Wednesday, 18 March 2009
-
the necessity of diversity
Celebrate Diversity? Absolutely, but that's
not enough...
At the heart of all systems in creation is such vast
diversity, that...
"We need to depend on diversity"~ Margaret J. Wheatley
All of life is made up of systems.
And research shows that the more diverse a system is,
the more sustainable it becomes.
Diversity gives life.“Diversity is a necessity and key to survival of life on planet earth.
“The more diverse a system is, the more resilient it is and the more able it is to withstand stress. This is the way the world operates. Obviously we should join its way of operating. Yet man has fought diversity through colonialism and industrialization. In the spirit of old Darwinism we spread out and conquered the world, ignorant of our true dependency of own environment.”
“Nature is so committed to creativity that it ‘abhors uniformity’. The work-as-machine metaphor that dominated the modern era got us to think and act in uniform and standardized processes as machines do. But this is not the way of the natural world. Nature is biased in favor of diversity. And creativity is itself an act of diversity, as Wendell Berry reminds us: ‘Nature not only produces species diversity but also individual diversity. Nature produces individuals. No two days are the same, no two snowflakes, no two flowers, trees, or any other of the infinite number of life-forms.”Matthew Fox, Creativity, p. 44Most people get so caught up in their lives that they can't see the environment they live in and have created. Like asking a fish, "How's the water?" The fish would say, "What water?". To a fish, water just "is". It is unobserved and thus invisible. This applies to our lives in so many ways; in individuals, organizations, communities, and nations. In all systems, this is what causes stagnation. We must seek perspectives from outside our own thinking and culture to instruct us and bring fresh practices and attitudes . . fresh "water" into our stagnant pond.
Einstein said that we cannot solve the problems we have created by the same thinking that created them. Therefore we MUST look outside of ourselves, our cliques, our churches, our communities, our culture, our country to find new thinking. We must open our hearts, minds, and eyes so that we do not just see, but so that we begin to See.
“If we are to achieve a richer culture, rich in contrasting values, we must recognize the whole gamut of human potentialities, and so weave a less arbitrary social fabric, one in which each diverse human gift will find a fitting place.”
Margaret Mead
Dare we deny anymore that we are killing ourselves:
- Environmentally
by operating independently, to dominate, subdue, and thus destroy that which we are completely dependent on? - Intellectually
by narrowing our minds and living in environments that promote opinionation and pronouncing judgment rather than embracing diversity, suspending judgment and connecting to wonder? - Organizationally
by functioning in our competitive silos of practice, our silos of thinking, our silos of conversation, unwilling to dialogue and collaborate in an environment of diminishing resources and exploding needs in our communities? - Individually
by trampling others on our way to nowhere, by ascending our ladders of success, by running over people on our way to the best Black Friday deals?
We keep pushing forward without thought . . . without thought of the consequences of our actions, without regard for the impact on
others, without Seeing that we are all connected, that in our diversity we are all one under the same skies.
- Environmentally
Sunday, 08 March 2009
-
home
Since my separation over two years ago and subsequent divorce, I’ve often felt quite homeless, a stranger in a strange land. My roots were cut off. What mattered to me was ripped away. As I sat and drank that beer alone in Georgetown, Cayman Islands, I realized that:
Home is not where your stuff is.
Home is where your heart is.
My home is home to me when my kids walk through the door. But when they are gone (half of the time) I could leave it all behind without looking back. I live for family and because they were there all of the time, I had a home all of the time. There are other things that connect to my heart deeply and give me a sense of home. These are the things I need to nurture . . . if I am to find my home again:
People like those I met on my trip,
Real people with real stories,
Good meaningful conversation about things that matter,
The warm smile of a stranger,
The ocean wind,
And music brings me home.
I guess for me, there is a bit more to it than Pumba’s philosophy in Lion King:
“Home is where your rump rests” . . . although I do long for it to be that simple.
-
crumbs from your table
The tourism industry has created a lot of questions in mind, especially in the last few days. Interestingly, I’ve been sent on a Caribbean cruise, er uh, conference by my employer. Extreme mass consumption is the name of this game.
The countries we have stopped at are well known for their poverty. Yet, because of how beautiful they are, the rich like to travel there. So the poor become dependent on the rich, as they come and spread their wealth; in a very measured and controlled way. Will the poor ever alleviate their poverty in this way? No, taxi drivers will forever drive the rich. Maybe they’ll become successful enough to purchase a vehicle for their business, or even a fleet. But they will remain working class, paying poverty wages to their employees.
The Cayman Islands was quite beautiful from a distance, but once there, all I saw was the condos and homes of the rich and famous, roads with no sidewalks, and trash all along the way. I found this out by attempting to walk to downtown. My goal was to find a little bar and have a beer with a local and find out what the place is really like. A place like that was not found. There were only cheesy tourist traps. The idea of having a beer still gripped me, so I resigned to the only option I could find in the touristy downtown of Georgetown . . . the Hard Rock Café . . . where I had a beer alone . . .
There were buried gems, though. The first arts and crafts table I came to caught my attention. I was so engrossed in the beauty of the artwork, mostly sea shells and coconut shells, that I was startled by a “hello” by the girl selling the merchandise. I was startled again as I looked up into the most beautiful smile I’ve seen on this trip. I told her so and thanked her.
The other gem came a little later. I was being stubborn, determined not to give in to all of spending traps. I didn’t sign up for any excursions ranging from $50 to $200. And I decided to walk to town. The map said it was a 30 to 40 minute walk. They must walk really fast there, because after walking for 35 minutes along a loud and dusty highway, I returned to the port. Good exercise is a good thing, though.
After a long overdue restroom break, I sought out taxi driver that had no passengers. He bid me ride in the front with him. He is a three generation native of the Cayman Islands. I, the ignorant America, had no idea if Cayman Islands was a county of its own or what. So I ventured a question. He explained all about the British Empire and all of the countries it has controlled. The Cayman Islands is still under British rule. The taxi driver is a British citizen. Rather ashamed of my ignorance, I was fascinated but relieved when he changed the subject. When he asked what brought me here, I explained that it was paid for by work and that I had never been to the Cayman Islands or on a cruise or even to Miami. He was surprised and asked my line of work. I told him that I’ve been working with people with disabilities for 28 years. He told me his 20 years old son works in a school with 5 and 6 year old special needs kids. I could tell by his voice and the look on his face and the words that he said that he is a very proud father. We started the conversation talking about how all of the rich people lived along the shore as we drove by mansion after mansion. He said, when you are rich, you can live anywhere you want. I commented that the more rich you are, the more options and choices you have in life, but the more poor you are, options and choices dwindle to, “You do what you gotta do, period”. The taxi driver nodded very knowingly. We concluded the conversation with the shared value that all people deserve a chance, all people deserve options, not just the rich. The poor do and so do people with special needs. That’s why he is so proud of his son.
In all of the glitz and glamour, noise and clamor, I’ve seen and felt what matters, I’ve found the ground of my being in the smile and warmth of a young lady selling jewelry and the conversation with a taxi driver that I’ll never forget. I wish I would have asked him his name . . .
-
ocean wind
I’m on a cruise in the Caribbean, paid for by my job. Can you believe it? I can’t. They call it a conference. And there is some good learning going on. But what amazes me is the extreme consumption that this whole cruise-thing is designed for. How much food, booze, merchandize, gambling, and entertainment can 2000+ people consume? It is quite mind-boggling really; especially if we are mindful of the extreme poverty in this world . . . something that is always on my mind.
This ship is twelve stories above the water and three football fields long! Yet it is a mere speck on the ocean.
Every inch of the ship is designed to encourage extreme consumption; with 5 restaurants, 12 lounges/bars, a casino, an auditorium with Las Vegas-style shows, an outdoor movie theater, and a multitude of shops. The shore stops at the Cayman Islands and Jamaica and for one purpose only . . . consumption, of course, with tutoring on shopping and excursions of all kinds.
I’m a stranger in a strange land, here. If I allow the current to take me, I lose my bearings and become ungrounded. I forget who I am . . . the ground of my being.
For my sanity, I have to slip away to remember: “We are not human beings having a spiritual experience, we are spiritual beings having a human experience.” I steal away from the glitz and the glamour, and noise and the clamor, to find something real. My favorite thing about being here is standing on the deck at night with this amazing, persistent, never-ending wind from the ocean pounding at my face in such a caressing sort of way. I hear the waves, smell the ocean, and feel its wind so powerfully. My soul cries out to the Creator of the ocean, the God of the skies, the Lord of the universe. I can do nothing but stand in awe and offer a song to the ocean, to the Lord of the ocean. I feel so tiny, so full of awe and wonder . . . so insignificant . . . in the face of such mystery.
“All these years of thinking
Ended up like this
In front of all this beauty
Understanding nothing.”
(Bruce Cockburn)
I stand; tiny, wondering, hoping;
Asking the Lord of the ocean:
Do you see me?
Can you hear my song?
Do you hear the cry of my heart?
Do you really feel my pain?
Do you really care about my joy?
Can you see me?
If not, we are of all creatures most pitiful:
As humans, we are uniquely given awareness and consciousness . . . but why?
Only so that we can grasp our despair . . . our insignificance?
Is it you that sends waves of grace washing over me
when I’m most desperate and overwhelmed?
Are you the “hound of heaven”
in persistent pursuit of me . . . of my heart?
A force more steady, persistent, and powerful than the ocean wind?
Do you hold me in your arms
Never to leave or forsake me
As a mother nurtures a child?
Why me?
Why?
Why.
To me, this will always be the mystery . . . as I sing to the ocean . . .
ronirvine
-
- Name: Ron
- Gender: Male
- Member Since: 7/14/2007
Connect
About Me
-
See my Virtual Life / Work Portfolio at www.ronirvine.net
Subscriptions
Pulse
-
We need to depend on diversity. ~ Margaret J. Wheatley
-
Be the change you wish to see in the world ~ Mahatma Gandhi
-
The greatest danger for most of us is not that our aim is too high, but that our aim is too low and we reach it. ~Michela
Chatboard (0)