There Goes the Judge -- The Prerequisite for Making New Year's Resolutions

New Year's Eve -- a time to bid goodbye to the "old" and celebrate the coming of the "new."

Are you trying to get rid of an old, unsatisfactory you and find, with perhaps some New Year's resolutions, a "fixed-up," perfected, new you?

Look a little deeper here -- doesn't it sound as though there's a judge "in there" somewhere, frowning down on you and telling you how much of you needs to be made-over and improved?

So many people, whether they are aware of it or not, suffer under an internal judge. That judge can be subtle, just leaving you with a vague sense of dissatisfaction and stress. Or, it can be so vocal that you are all but paralyzed by the thoughts of "not good enough."

Before trying to make any New Year's resolutions based on that judge, consider bringing in some compassion. Start with acceptance and compassion for the "fixee." Is your performance really that bad? Are you doing your best? And especially, are you identifying yourself as a child of God, an expression of the Infinite Good?

The judge, too, needs acceptance and compassion. What suffering, perhaps in childhood, caused the development of such a harsh critic in the first place? Is the noise of that self-criticism a desperate attempt to erase feelings of pain and shame? Do you suppose that embracing that prickly judge with understanding and love could melt its harshness?

The judge is not really separate from the rest of you; it's another aspect of the ego you were trained to think of as yourself. And you, as you truly are right now, are not separate from Love Itself. The wholeness, the Allness of God-Being is your real Identity, with no need of guilt, shame, or "fixing up."

So, whatever resolutions or intentions you wish to form this year, make them in the Light of Love. And on New Year's Eve, say goodbye to the oldness of the illusory separation from God, and celebrate the Presence of the unchanging One forever new.

Don't Forget. . .The Gift!

Last Sunday's newspaper brought a"Family Circus" cartoon by Bil Keane that is a "keeper." The strip shows a mother and three little ones walking through a shopping mall, passing displays successively labeled "Don't forget wrapping paper," "Don't forget tree lights," and "Don't forget candy." The last frame shows the mom and kids, having left the mall, walking past a church with a creche scene in its front yard, and a large sign next to the creche saying simply, "Don't Forget!"

Fra Giovanni Giocondo, the 16th-century Franciscan friar whose work I introduced in this blog this past July, wrote a lovely meditation on "Gift" in 1513. It came to my attention first as a Christmas card sent to me by a friend many years ago, and certainly is suitable during this season of gifts, joy . . . and sometimes sadness. I'd like to reproduce it here:

"The gloom of the world is but a shadow, behind it, yet within reach is joy, there is radiance and glory in the darkness could we but see, and to see we have only to look, I beseech you to look.

"Life is so generous a giver, but we, judging its gifts by their covering, cast them away as ugly or heavy or hard, remove the covering and you will find beneath it a living splendor, woven of Love, by Wisdom, with power.

"Welcome it, grasp it, and you touch the angel's hand that brings it to you. Everything we call a trial, a sorrow or a duty, the angel's hand is there, the gift is there, and the wonder of an overshadowing Presence. Our joys, too, be not content with them as joys. They too conceal diviner gifts.

"And so at this time I greet you, not quite as the world sends greetings but with profound esteem and the prayer that for you, now and forever, the day breaks and shadows flee away."

That is my prayer, too, for the world and for each one who reads this. Never forget Love's Gift of Itself, whether in the form of a magnificent story still celebrated today, or beyond all form.

'Tis the Season for Peace on Earth

As I drove home from an interview with an engaged couple about their wedding ceremony, my attention was attracted by a large billboard beside the Interstate. It showed a childlike drawing of Santa in a large red sleigh (which looked a bit like a bath tub), drawn by a 2-legged, red-nosed reindeer, and read simply "I Wage Peace.org."

Intrigued, I looked the organization up on the web as soon as I got home. Their website stated the following: "I Wage Peace.org is dedicated to inspire Peace Makers through education, film, creative advertising, information distribution, and links to world-class peacemaking organizations."

A visit to their site explains this organization's program better than I can in this brief post, and it's well worth some exploring. For instance, among nine actions listed under the heading "Everyone Can Wage Peace" were to support and/or join peacemaking organizations (dozens are listed on the site), write letters to the editor, and pray for peace.

I want to just mention that one of my long-time favorite peacemaking organizations is the American Friends Service Committee, since I didn't notice it on this particular site. Nonviolent action is so important in our war-intoxicated world.

At the same time, even the most dedicated peacemaking will never permanently succeed unless and until people awaken to their true Identity as Conscious Being. Separation will continue to appear until the profundity of Oneness is realized. As Dr. Kenneth G. Mills noted in his book Given to Praise (Sun-Scape Publications, 1976):
"You are not a man of a nation.
You are a Light experience,
Or a Conscious experience,
And only secondarily a person with a nationality.
Your are Conscious Experience
Primarily."

This realization definitely can, and must, be engaged by everyone.

Pray for peace, yes, and let your prayer resound with the rejoicing that the Ineffable One knows nothing of separation, chaos, or strife, but only its own glorious Allness. And That is the true Identity to know and Be!

In this season when peace is on so many minds and hearts, Blessings!

Have You Witnessed a Random Act?

In the midst of the mass of holiday shoppers at Macy's in Philadelphia, the familiar, exhilarating sounds of Handel's Hallelujah Chorus ring out. Singers from the chorus of the Opera Company of Philadelphia, mingling with the shoppers, sing exuberantly, the music circling mysteriously seemingly from everywhere.

As the sound fades, a stranger in the crowd holds aloft a sign that reads, "You Have Just Experienced a Random Act of Culture."

If you haven't yet seen this delightful Christmas-time event on You-Tube, you can find it at www.youtube.com/watch?v=wp_RHnQ-jgU.

I discovered there have been a number of such "random acts" in various cities, sponsored by the John S. and James L. Knight Foundation. Over the next three years, the Foundation will sponsor 1,000 of these events in eight cities, as a promotion of the arts. (For more information and additional videos, visit http://www.knightarts.org/.)

The music blossoms in unlikely public places, often crowded malls, as well as airports and markets. What I love most about these recordings is to see the faces of the surprised witnesses. A few people ignore, others look disconcerted and uncomfortable. But most show obvious delight, some as though they have just been awakened from the trance of their busyness. A number use cell phones to take photos. Some even join in directly to the fun.

The faces are fascinating, beautiful, captured in a wondrous moment of being themselves.

As a viewer commented on the You-Tube site of one of these classical performances, "This is pleasing to God!"

Enjoy!

Winter Holiday Blues? Try a New Focus

Sadness, depression, loneliness attack more than a few people at this time of year. Is there help for this?

Thanksgiving, carrying all its feasting and expressions of gratitude, has passed. With the first thoughts of all that needs to be done before the holidays also comes the thought that winter is upon us. Has the glow of Thanksgiving warmth died? No. The changing picture is just doing what it always does: changing.

But, as Dr. Kenneth G. Mills stated in his lecture Green Stuff, ". . . you can't believe the appearance if you expect to see a new spring." You have a choice. You can focus beyond the appearance.

Outdoors we see the apparent death of much of the landscape, with chill temperatures, naked trees and waning light. Dr. Mills speaks about those seemingly dead trees: "It wasn't that they were dead; it was that they were resting to be prepared to receive the wealth of foliage: that green stuff!"

Winter is darker and colder, for sure. But it is also part of an awesome pattern: the rhythm of the four seasons. Do you focus on the deadness, or on the eternal rhythms? (This applies to your inner state, as well!)

Of course, winter holds its own beauty. Pure snow, smooth and crystalline, before footsteps have mussed it. The intricacy of black branches revealed against a pearlized sky. The trees casting majestic shadows before the rosy four o'clock sun. Do you focus on the cold, or on the lovely details?

At the mall, "Black Friday" heralds the start of holiday shopping, and with it, so it seems, a seductive emphasis on over-consumption. A painful yearning for Something unrecognized may unfortunately find its release in frenzied buying and partying.

But as the holidays approach, there are also the people who volunteer to help out, to give of themselves to a number of causes. Do you focus on the feelings of sadness, or can you focus on compassion and take action to volunteer yourself?

Do you allow the holiday hubbub to sweep you unwillingly along, or can you focus on the spirit, the soul, the meaningful symbols of the holy-days of Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanza?

Do you find yourself thinking of childhood traditions lost, or can you focus on your current story, whatever it may be, and what it might mean as allegory? There is power here, waiting to be discovered.

Most of all, do focus on That which IS beyond time, beyond all appearances. The winter-- the seeming cold and dark -- is but another disguise of the Divine Radiance. The lacks, the losses, are a distortion of the Abundance and Love that can never dissipate. All the suggestions of sadness and sorrow could not even seem to appear were it not for the clear, untouched Light of Consciousness. Love's embrace never goes away.

What is your focus now?

[Note: Green Stuff is copyrighted 2010 by The Kenneth G. Mills Foundation. See their website to order it as a chapter in Mills' book The Key: Identity or as a booklet with CD.]

Many Thanks

This Thanksgiving Day, and every day, wake up! Leave the mesmerism of the everyday cloud of things to do and places to hurry to.

Are you cooking today? Consider this admonition from St. Teresa of Avilla to her chattering novices in the convent kitchen: "Sisters, hearken! God is among the marmites!" (A marmite is a type of pot.)

Voice gratitude for all the loveliness, the wonder of what appears around you. Appreciate the minuscule, the mighty.

Rejoice in the radiance of the awesome Conscious-Awareness that makes the appreciation possible.

Find yourSelf. . .not separate from the Allness called "God." Lose the "me"; Be the "I."

Love. Be the loving expression of the Love That IS.

Much, much to be grateful for, indeed!

Saying Grace

Many years ago, I was invited to join a church group of Polynesian people for a Sunday meal. Before the meal began, the group sang their grace. I shall never forget the sound of that sung prayer: exquisitely sweet, bell-like, unified, loving.

When I was a child, my father said grace every day before we ate: "Come Lord Jesus, be our guest, and let this food to us be blessed." This prayer was a bit mechanical, perhaps, yet it marked a moment of stillness and of being together.

Prayer before a meal is a universal expression of gratitude. Graces can probably be found in the written or oral traditions of just about every culture on earth. Nourishment, sustenance, both physical and spiritual, is a gift -- whether merited or not -- from the Divine. So, at its most basic, table grace is a thank-you prayer for the blessing of having food, manna, for another day.

Meals are also an opportunity for a family, nuclear or extended, to be gathered together. Thus, this prayer is also an acknowledgment and expression of gratitude for the blessings of family and hospitality. The Divine is often recognized as an unseen guest at the table.

This moment of grateful prayer is an opportunity to pause and come into a fuller awareness of all that surrounds us, including the embrace of the Divine. It could be seen as an instant of "Zen" mindfulness.

Kenneth G. Mills, in a collection of his poems and prayers called Words of Adjustment (Sun-Scape Publications, copyright 1992), described the breaking of bread this way:

"We should break bread together
and share the wonder of wine
and the moment of inspiration
when men who have enough love
can break the frontiers
that would prevent us from Being One."

Author Adrian Butash has gathered 152 graces in his book Bless This Food (New World Library, copyright 1993, 2007). Prayer 148 was written by Father John Giuliani, a Catholic priest in the Diocese of Bridgeport, Connecticut. It is one of my favorites in this book:

"Bless our hearts
to hear in the
breaking of bread
the song of the universe."

A meal togather is a holy event, one in which to rejoice, give thanks, and bow in awe at the ever-flowing blessings of the divine One.

"Feed my Lambs"

Did you know that one out of every six Americans faces real hunger? To me, that's a very surprising statistic.

Generous people think of donating to charities which serve those literally dying of hunger in other countries around the world. These are indeed wonderful and badly needed organizations. But there is also hunger here in the United States, among seniors, children from poor families, Native Americans, the homeless. And more and more often now, the people turning to food pantries are those who have lost their jobs in the bad economy and have been unable to find work since. Some of these folks have used up their unemployment benefits; some have become homeless.

These are the new faces at our nation's food pantries. And, sadly, as the number of clients grows, at the same time donations lessen, as people also struggling in the "Recession" pull back on their contributions.

I've come across a wonderful organization known as Feeding America. Its former name was America's Second Harvest, because it focuses on saving food that would otherwise go to waste. The organization sets up partnerships with food growers, processors, manufacturers, wholesalers and retailers in order to collect good food that might otherwise not get used. This is my favorite part of this charity, as the waste of food, and so much else, in our society is troubling. Not wasting resources is another aspect of good stewardship of our planet.

Feeding America's network then ships the donated food to wherever it is needed most, and food banks within the network store and distribute the food to local charities such as soup kitchens, senior centers, and after-school programs.

In this way, food is provided for some 37 million Americans annually. More than 200 member food banks supply some 61,000 local agencies that address hunger.

To find out more about Feeding America and to donate to them, simply go to www.feedingamerica.org, or call 1-800-771-2303. Other actions you can take include setting up a food drive in your own community at a church or school, or volunteering time at a local food pantry. Even buying a couple extra cans or packages of food every time you shop and giving them to a local charity will help.

As in the Great Depression, people will get through their hard times by the simple acts of people helping each other.

What better way to give thanks than by sharing! Abundance reigns despite any appearance to the contrary. For the Lord's Allness could never be anything other than rich, overflowing Substance. So rejoice in that, voice your gratitude, and express the ceaseless generosity of the Beautiful One by the actions you take during this Thanksgiving season.

In the Name of God

People sometimes come to me saying, "We're not religious. We don't want the word "God" used in our ceremony." For them, I can often use a phrase such as "all that is good" in a blessing.

There are, of course, many, many names for that Unfathomable Mystery that many call "God." Among them are such terms as Allah, Jehovah, Yahweh, I AM, That Which IS, The Divine, The Self, The Source, One, The All, Consciousness. The most Orthodox of Jewish worshippers are not permitted to utter the sacred Name. Zen teachers speak of "Nothing."

Many women now seem to be protesting the use of the patriarchal "He" when referring to God. They prefer "She" as the holy pronoun. Some contemporary writers speak of the importance of newly appreciating the receptive, compassionate, feminine aspect of the deity. Mary Baker Eddy, founder of Christian Science, was ahead of her time when she referred to the divine as "Father-Mother God." Mrs. Eddy also gave seven synonyms for God: Mind, Spirit, Soul, Principle, Life, Truth and Love.

The 12 Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous speak of one's "higher power" in an attempt to find language that can be accepted by all AA members, no matter what their background of faith or lack thereof.

A number of contemporary folks, who may say they don't believe in God, nonetheless conceive of a power that supports and harmonizes all things, a universal force or essence or pattern, a vibration, or simply the vast, mysterious Universe itself. Numerous books are being published now on the closing gap between science (especially physics) and religion or metaphysics.

Master science fiction writer Arthur C. Clarke created a classic story called "The Nine Billion Names of God." In it, a group of monks in a lamasery high in the mountains have toiled for many years to write down all nine billion names of God, based on a set of sacred words. It is said that if this task is completed, the world will come to an end. The monks finally decide to hire a pair of consultants, who provide them with a computer to run through all the permutations and combinations of sacred letters that form the names. When the computer has almost finished the task, the consultants leave the lamasery and ride away at night on horseback. They laugh with each other about the project, estimating that the computer must just have finished, when suddenly, ". . .overhead, without any fuss, the stars were going out."

One name too sacred to pronounce, or nine billion names, what is this potent yet indescribable Ineffable-ness we try to name? Who can say?

The late Dr. Kenneth G. Mills often spoke of the "One Altogether Lovely." That phrase touches me very much. Yet, for myself, I think my favorite name of all for the Mystery of God is a single word: Love.

Don't Stop the Music

I love classical music. It moves me deeply, it inspires me.

Recently, I have been volunteering in the office of our regional symphony orchestra. The orchestra is struggling to stay afloat financially, and already has had to cancel a concert scheduled for its fall season. This makes me sad.

When I started to write this post, I tried bemoaning what appears to be the loss of so much classical music in the face of ear-jarring, spirit-jarring heavy metal and other "rock" music. But I'm no expert on this, and it all sounded too negative.

Then I outlined a post on the benefits of classical music, such as the healing properties of music as described in Don Campbell's popular book, The Mozart Effect. Again, I am no expert, and didn't want my post to be shallow.

The late Dr. Kenneth G. Mills used to speak about a scientist at Johns Hopkins -- Dr. Donald Andrews -- who noted that if one could put on a special set of earphones to listen on an atomic level, one would find the center of the atom not solid, but rather a tone. I find this image delightful, this and the idea that the very essence of things is vibration, or Sound ("In the beginning was the Word. . . .").

With that, I decided that the best things I can say about music, especially classical music, are from my own heart and soul. I wrote the following poem in a state of elation shortly after hearing the Toronto Symphony Orchestra perform in October, 2005. Even such a prominent orchestra as the Toronto Symphony suffers from financial woes, and I gather that at one point before 2005, it was thought that the orchestra might come to an end. Then a new and talented music director, Peter Oundjian, came on board and the orchestra was reborn.

So today -- in celebration of the wonder and spiritual nourishment of classical music -- I offer "See the Music," and dedicate it to the Norwalk Symphony Orchestra and all the other local orchestras large and small, which have so much to give as educators, healers, and supporters of their listeners' souls.

See the Music

Bows in perfect unison

Stroke the air: up, then down, then up again,

Moving together like grass stalks in the wind --

The wind . . . blowing

Through oboes, through flutes,

Stirring the orchestra in wide circles,

A tap on the drum, a puff through the horn,

Waves of music,

Ripples of themes,

Swirling and spreading,

Tossed from violin to cello,

From clarinet to brass,

Weaving, spiralling.

The conductor, captain of his ship,

Breasts the wind,

Enwrapped in its exhilarating swell,

And, exquisitely focussed, all move like dancers,

Hands and arms, lips and throats,

Swept and breathed through --

"Making" the music? Being the music

From atoms to cells to sinew and bone,

Crooning and carolling,

High and deep,

Beating and thrilling at the power of this wind

That soars and sings

And rings the tones of even the stars . . . and beyond.

"Pay It Forward"

The movie Pay It Forward was recently shown on television, and I was glad for the opportunity to see it again, as I like that movie -- and its premise -- very much.

In case you've never seen it, or read the book, the story begins with a middle school teacher giving his social studies class an assignment: come up with an idea that can change the world. One boy, the "hero" of the story, creates an idea that truly fulfills the assignment, and which he puts into action. He describes his idea as follows: when someone does you a favor or helps you out in some way, then you must "pay it forward" by helping three other people. Those people must each in turn help three more people, and so the wave of kindness and good-will increases exponentially.

I won't reveal any more of the story, but what a wonderful idea!

Another version of "pay it forward" happens in those villages in poor areas of the world where Heifer International brings assistance in the form of farm animals -- cows, sheep, goats, chickens, or the like -- along with agricultural training. When better circumstances come to a family because of their new animal, that family is expected to "pass on the gift" by giving one of their animal's offspring to another family. This is often done with much ceremony and celebration, and prosperity gradually increases throughout the village.

Finally, I also saw a brief note in a magazine from a woman who enjoys passing out small envelopes to people she meets or sees on the street. Inside is a dollar bill and a note: If you need the dollar, keep it. If you don't feel you need it, pass it along to someone else, perhaps adding more money to the envelope before sending it on its way.

All good ideas, ways of action to bring a bit more kindness, prosperity and well-being into the world. What kindness, small or large, can you add to your world today?

Prayer for September 11

I have just been reading in the newspaper about a minister (so-called), Rev. Terry Jones, in Gainesville, Florida, who plans to burn copies of the Quran on September 11. He has been warned by people as high up as General Petraeus, head of U.S. troops in Afghanistan, Secretary of State Clinton, and a spokesman for the President of the United States, that this act will only inflame Muslim extremists further, potentially leading to acts of violence against our soldiers, our diplomats, and U.S. citizens everywhere.

How excruciatingly sad that someone can be so blind to the huge, possibly world-changing, negative consequences of his own actions, as well as being blind to how his hateful words actually mirror the hatred of those he condemns. How can anyone have the temerity to destroy the sacred, sacred texts of another faith -- and in the United States, founded on principles such as freedom of religion?

For some reason, this news item disturbed me to an unusual degree. My first thought was actually to grab a flight to Gainesville, and. . . do what? Throw myself on his pile of holy texts and put the flames out with my body? There was such a helpless, yet galvanized, sense. What could I do to stop such a grossly disrespectful, potentially far-reaching -- and monumentally stupid -- act?

At one place in the article, Terry Jones was quoted as saying he was continuing to pray about the situation. Here, then, is the only hope: To pray for this man's change of heart. To pray with rejoicing at the clarity that constantly reigns supreme in the Conscious Light.

Dr. Kenneth G. Mills' poem on the power of prayer came strongly to mind for me. He says:

"Clear the way for the Light to be seen
By you who pray in the realm of dreams.
Take the stand: 'I see the Light'
And thus be held in wondrous might.

Thereupon take the imaged thought
And focus upon the one loved . . or loved not,
And bring to that spot the Power Divine,
Because you are not lost in the thought-filled mind.

That is how the Power works!"
(Poem copyright 1992 by Kenneth G. Mills)

What more fitting tribute to those who lost their lives on September 11 than to pray. . . for insight to come to one stubborn one, and for world peace.

"My Journey" Continued

The book literally fell off the shelf and landed at my feet. No one else was around; I hadn't touched the shelf. It was a sign. I of course checked the book out of the library.

The book turned out to be the memoirs of a woman who met and studied with G.I. Gurdjieff in the early decades of the 20th Century. I had never heard of this man or of the metaphysical movement that surrounded him. The woman's story was fascinating, all about what it was like to study with a spiritual teacher -- the dialogues, the challenges, the realizations. This was my true introduction to esotericism.

Again, I was being prepared, though at that time I had no idea for what.

I was, however, responding to the leadings I felt had been coming to me over the past several years: my reading of C.S. Lewis' Surprised by Joy and the other theologians I had studied at Lone Mountain College, my experiences with Christian Science, with Jack Schwarz, and even with the Hare Krishna parade through Golden Gate Park. I felt so strongly led, and I interpreted this the best I could, as something to do with religion. Could it be that I was being called to the ministry?

I was still quite active with the Religious Society of Friends at that time, and had even been appointed as an interim clerk of the San Francisco Friends Meeting for three months. The clerk was as close to a minister as this branch of Quakers came; he or she chaired the business meetings and otherwise attended to the official activities of the Meeting. There were, of course, no sermons to preach.

Nonetheless, there was a man on the faculty of the Pacific School of Religion (PSR), across the Bay in Berkeley, who was a Quaker. One of the members of the San Francisco Meeting knew him, and at my request arranged for me to have a talk with him. PSR was an interdenominational Christian seminary, operating under the umbrella of the Graduate Theological Union of the University of California, Berkeley.

How could I study for the ministry? Accustomed as I was to the uplifting silent meetings for worship of the Friends, how could I give sermons or perform rituals? I couldn't picture myself as a minister -- I didn't know exactly how this would play out.

Then one day as I was wandering happily through the woods of Golden Gate Park, I met a young "hippie" couple. We chatted for a bit, and somehow the conversation turned toward the meaning of life. I still recall leaning against a tree, engaged in intense, deep conversation with them.

It was another sign; I was sure of it. I was being called to enter the seminary. I had no idea what I would do with this education. But I trusted that if I made this move, the leadings would continue and I would come to see what I was to do next.

So I left my editing job at U.C. San Francisco and that autumn enrolled in the Master of Divinity program at PSR.

Praying for the Words

Prayer is such a mystery. And when a prayer is answered, how often that response includes what was prayed for within a much larger, and completely unexpected, context.

"Prayer is adjustment," Dr. Kenneth G. Mills often said. I feel that prayer is not so much asking for something wanted as it is a listening, a willingness, a stilling, an opening to realization.

Recently, someone I know called me in much distress. She was upset by something someone had said to her, perhaps in jest, but with overtones that made her uncomfortable. She said she didn't know how to respond to it. Moreover, she was troubled deeply about a situation in her home life.
As she outlined her concerns, I began to pray: "God, give me the right words to say to her."

I'm praying again now for the right words to tell this story, since I don't recall word-for-word how the conversation went. The shared realization that came during that talk was so powerful and so precious, I hesitated at first to even write about it. Yet, if this story can bless, can bring peace to someone and renew their prayer life, then it should be told.

For suddenly the conversation made a turn, and we began to speak of the Truth of Love, of Being. The idea of Principle arose, and of holding fast to the rod of Principle in every circumstance -- the Rod of Right Identification (as Dr. Mills called it), namely that I am not and never can be separated from the Father, from Love, from the Infinite.

Then came the realization. "It's not about [the situation] at all!" she said. "I don't have to fix anything! The Rod is there for my support!"

She said to me, "You did say the right words." And I repeated a favorite phrase, one I have had engraved on a ring I always wear: "I of myself can do nothing. . . 'tis the Father that doeth the work" She replied, "Yes, exactly!" We were taking turns saying "Wow!" laughing and almost crying. "I've got goosebumps," I said. "Me, too!"

My prayer -- without my ever knowing exactly what words should be said but simply allowing the conversation to flow as I continued to pray -- had been answered, and we both had been blessed beyond anything we could have expected. God is good!

Land of Liberty

Yesterday saw a primary election here in Connecticut. I went to vote about 6:30 p.m. and found the polls all but empty; the newspaper later confirmed that fewer than one in three voters had exercised their right to vote. After I marked my ballot, I was given a little sticker to wear that said, "I voted today."

As I left the polls, I felt an interesting mix of emotions. There was something rather like pride, or patriotism, and certainly also gratitude. I am grateful that I live in a country free enough to hold such elections. I can grouse with the best of them about the problems in this country, especially what seems to be the growing power of what President Eisenhower once called "the military-industrial complex," plus all the factors that have contributed to the degradation of our wondrous biosphere. But grateful, yes! God bless America!

I think of the song most Americans probably learned as children: "My country, 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. . . ." And the feeling, the insight grows deeper. "My country" -- my home -- the place of security and safety, warmth, nourishment, peace. My Home -- the place beyond all place, beyond time and space -- the infinite, cosmic embrace of Father-Mother God.

"Sweet land of liberty" -- liberty to, yes, and also liberty from. From what? Liberty from the tyranny of the ego-mind, liberty from the many mesmeric aspects of our society and the world of "maya." Liberty from doubt and fear; liberty to live in harmony with the Divine. Liberty from thinking the world picture is all there is; liberty to celebrate the realization that God IS All.

Summer Festival Musings

In attempting to capture the essence of the Summer Festival of Light, Sound and Peace, held this year near Haliburton, Ontario, Canada, I wrote the following:

We are all actors
On God's stage appearing thus.
Love authors the lines.

Listen! Listen! Hear!
This wondrous moment is sung
By Creation's Voice.

Question all beliefs.
Tell me, what have you seen through?
Thoughts are very sheer.

Meditation stills
The ego-mind's chattering.
Watch, and smile at it.

What does this line mean?
Rhythm, balance, harmony --
Life's fire extending.

I remind myself,
I of myself can do naught.
Love performs my task.

What is my purpose?
Find all that you see held fast
In Light's sweet embrace.

Kenneth G. Mills, in a lecture entitled "The Freedom of Love" in his book, The Cornucopia of Substance, states, "It's the Invisible that allows all of this to happen, and that is the miracle of miracles: it becomes visible!"

The Wonder of Creativity

I am about to leave for an exciting week-long festival in Canada on "The Source of the Creative Impulse," or "Creativity and the Theater of Life." This festival honors the late musician and philosopher Dr. Kenneth G. Mills, whose life was filled with creativity and mentoring of artists in a number of disciplines. One of my favorite statements of Dr. Mills' on creativity and its Source is as follows:

"So, in the Invisible, the dark barren branches of the Invisible, we know That must be present, for I AM, and in That is being experienced the Creativity of the Wonder becoming the greatest engineering feat of all time: man's ability to structure an edifice of thought-projected form that he calls himself, a human being."

Dr. Mills also stated the following on arts and today's society:
"In this day and age, how can you expect to receive anything from a society that has lost the wonder of artistic endeavor and classical attainment? What is necessary? The silencing of noise."

Dr. Mills first showed me the meaning of this Biblical quote, which he paraphrased as follows:
"I of myself can do nothing; 'tis the Wonder of the Invisible that doeth the work."

I'll be back in two weeks.

Letter to a Friend

The following passage was written by Fra Giovanni Giocondo in 1513. An Italian, he joined the Dominican order at age 18, and later entered the Franciscan order. During his lifetime, he was an architect, antiquary, archaeologist, classical scholar and scholastic theologian. At least two of his letters are widely quoted today. One was written on Christmas Eve, and perhaps I will share that one this coming December. The other is simply titled "Letter to a Friend," and I reproduce it here in honor of all my dear, dear friends.

"I salute you. I am your friend and my love for you goes deep. There is nothing I can give you which you have not got. But there is much, very much, that while I cannot give it, you can take.

No heaven can come to us unless our hearts find rest in today. Take heaven!

No peace lies in the future which is not hidden in this present little instance. Take peace!

The gloom of the world is but a shadow. Behind it, yet within our reach, is joy. Take joy!

Life is so full of meaning and purpose, so full of beauty. . . that you will find earth but cloaks your heaven. Courage then to claim it, that is all!. . .

And so I greet you, with profound esteem and with the prayer that for you, now and forever, the day breaks and the shadows flee away."

Pilgrimages

The streets of San Francisco were completely still. No lights showed in any of the houses which climb the city's hills; everyone, it appeared, was asleep. I walked quietly, the heavy soles of my hiking boots making little sound on the sidewalk. I was on a pilgrimage.

In San Francisco there is a well-known hill, Mt. Davidson, with a stone cross at its summit. Every year on Easter morning, the various Christian denominations throughout the city co-sponsored an Easter Sunrise worship service at the top of this hill. And I was walking there, through the dark streets.

I had timed the walk during the day a few days before, so I would know just how early to start my trek in order to arrive in time for the service. It was early, all right -- around 4:30 a.m.

Somehow I felt this was an important gesture for me -- a kind of acknowledgment of the stirrings begun by reading C.S. Lewis and the theologians I had discovered in my religious studies class at Lone Mountain. I was developing a new interest in mainstream Christianity.

* * *

That summer, or perhaps a summer or two later, I found myself in Golden Gate Park in San Francisco, intrigued by an announcement of a re-enactment of a festival from India.

Perhaps you remember the Hare Krishna devotees, prominent in the 1970s, who wore bright gold robes and chanted wherever they went. This organization, more formally known as the International Society for Krishna Consciousness (ISKCON), was sponsoring a version of the Ratha Jatra (or Rath Yatra). This fesitval is huge in India; more than a million pilgrims travel to Jagannath Puri, a temple in Orissa dedicated to the god Jagannath, identified with Krishna.

The Rathotsavam (or "driving the chariots") carries wooden images of Jagannath and his brother and sister in giant carts, called by the British "juggernauts" because it was difficult to pronounce the deity's Hindu name. I checked assorted Internet resources today to find out more about this festival; my knowledge at the time was quite vague. One source says that the great juggernauts carry the images a distance of approximately two miles to the sea (which is what happened in Golden Gate Park, where the procession ended at the Pacific Ocean). Another source says that the juggernauts proceed from the Jagannath Puri temple to another temple approximately two miles away, which represents Jagannath's visit to an aunt.

In India, the juggernauts are built of wood and are incredibly heavy, requiring many, many priests and devotees to pull them along with ropes and endangering the life of of anyone who accidentally gets in the way. In Golden Gate Park, the wheeled juggernauts were constructed of heavy cardboard, so it wasn't as laborious to pull or push them. They were, however, as highly decorated as those in India and extremely colorful.

The procession had a powerful effect. Everyone was chanting "Hare Krishna, Krishna, Krishna," and I joined in. Suddenly, I was running alongside one of the chariots, grabbing hold of the side, and beginning to push along with the gold-robed Hare Krishna devotees and other onlookers. It was exhilarating.

That day, and ever since, I have felt that by pushing the juggernaut, I was somehow fulfilling something, though I don't know what. In some mysterious way, this fulfillment, too, must have been a preparation for what was to come.

Lost and Found

My beloved cat, Francisco, disappeared last week.

I adopted him three years ago, and apparently he had had a rough life until then. He was cautious about being touched (not a "lap cat," by any means), bit and scratched on occasion, and never purred. I showered him with affection. Since I live alone, I talked to him constantly, and he reciprocated by listening and wagging the tip of his tail in an oddly dog-like fashion. He gradually became more affectionate, rubbing a lot against my legs, joining me in bed. And, he learned to purr.

From the time he didn't show up for supper, I was concerned. He adored going outside and found ways to shoot around or between my legs when I tried to keep him in. But when he did get out, he never left the property around my apartment. He loved to roll in the dust of the parking lot, chew on long grass, poke around in an old rock wall, and hang out on a flight of wooden steps nearby. But that was as far as he went; he was never out of eyesight. And -- again, somewhat dog-like -- he would come when called, albeit often slowly, strolling nonchalantly along as though no one had really called him.

I walked around the neighborhood, calling and calling. No Francisco. When he was gone all night, I began to despair, fearing he was dead.

I recalled a thought by Dr. Wayne Dyer, who said in one of his books that fear is "false expectations appearing real." Kenneth G. Mills frequently pointed out that when you think you feel fear, know that you have access to "the Father's ear."

I made and posted signs all around the neighborhood, though without much enthusiasm. I prayed for Francisco, asking the Power we call God to take care of him, as He does all His little ones, to make sure that Francisco didn't suffer, and to bring him home.

I acknowledged my gratitude that Francisco had experienced a great deal of love for three years, and that God in his mercy had somehow made it so that I did not have to see a small dead form. And gradually, I became grateful that there was the possibility of adopting another cat, of finding newness. This was at times comforting, though all of Francisco's endearing little quirks were often on my mind.

At some point, I reawakened to the fact that Love is All. It came to me that Love cannot be divided, so that first it had an object and then it didn't, for Love is all there is. Love never ceases. It cannot be lost. Over and over I repeated, "Love cannot be divided, cannot be lost. Love is All there is!" With this renewed understanding came peace, almost exhilaration.

So, I continued to wait. Francisco's little bowls of food and water, put out on the porch for him in case he came home in the middle of the night, remained untouched.

Monday was hot, so I kept my door shut. As it happened, I was sitting in my rocking chair, close to the door. Suddenly, over the noisy hum of the air conditioner, I thought I heard an odd little sound. That sounds almost like a cat, I thought. I opened the door and there was Francisco, sitting at the bottom of the stairs and meowing. When he saw me at the door, he trotted calmly up the stairs and into the house. I was flabbergasted and overjoyed.

Oddly enough, he was not bedraggled in any way, and showed no excess hunger or thirst. He obviously hadn't been wandering through the woods for the last four days. He must have walked brazenly into someone's house (as he did occasionally at my neighbor's apartment door), then somehow gotten back to my steps four days later. Odd that no one had telephoned. Well, although Francisco is extremely smart, he doesn't talk, so I guess I'll never know what adventures he had.

I do know, with great wonder and joy, that Love is All there is, and Its boundless Presence embraces always.

Orange cat silent
Sleeps gently on my table.
Love undivided.

Patterns of Serendipity

I have just come across a term from the Tibetan language: tendrel, which means both serendipity and the interdependence of all things. Very apropos to my experience in California.

Over the years, related events may occur -- "If I hadn't done this, then that wouldn't have happened." At the time an experience occurs, do we always know what caused it or where it's leading? From another, perhaps larger perspective, could it be seen that events had different relationships altogether?

Several coincidences led me to the work I was to do immediately after graduation from Lone Mountain. A mimeographed booklet of some of my poetry made its way from my English teacher to the office of the college president, to her secretary, to a woman who edited journal articles written by physicians in the Neurosurgery Department of the University of California Medical School at San Francisco. This woman was looking for an editorial assistant.

She saw and liked my poetry. In addition, I had learned to read proof and mark it up with typographic symbols while editing our high school literary magazine years before. More recently I had learned medical terminology on the job as a transcriber at the Rehabilitation Institute of Chicago. Everything fit, and I was hired. All this in turn led to my ability to earn a livelihood for years to come. And, it led to something more.

One day, I received a flyer in the mail, announcing an unusual lecture series (for a medical school) -- the lectures were to explore some of the frontier territory between medicine and spirituality. The flyer was late, as the series was to begin the next morning. The first lecture was to be given by a man named Jack Schwarz, who had been studied by Elmer Green and other groundbreaking scientists in biofeedback at the Menninger Clinic. Schwarz was able to put himself into a meditative state and then push a large needle completely through his arm without pain. The wounds closed as soon as the needle was withdrawn.

Ordinarily, this wouldn't have been of particular interest to me. But an intuitive prompting nagged at me until I raced over to the medical school a few moments before the office closed for the day, to sign up for the first lecture. The woman who signed me up must have been more than a little surprised at the pennies and other loose change I used to pay the fee. I spent every cent I had on hand (no ATM's in those days!) in order to attend that lecture. This was a leap for me.

Schwarz's lecture turned out to be a wide-ranging exploration of the human body's chakras and auras, the vibrational frequencies of various colors and sounds, and the energy fields of crystals and herbal remedies. He danced from topic to topic, weaving ideas together in a fascinating fashion. I had never known about any of this material.

Schwarz also taught the audience to use mental imagery. First he asked us to imagine a school blackboard. I couldn't picture anything at all. Then I got the image of a whiteboard. He proceeded to have us draw a sheep on the board. My imagination drew a herd of buffalo. Then he asked us to have the sheep do a particular thing (I can't recall what). At first my buffalo just sat there; then suddenly they all got up and ran off the edge of the whiteboard. I really had to laugh at this exhibition of the stubbornness and contrariness I admitted were part of my personality.

Next Schwarz led us in a guided meditation. It was similar to those now found very commonly in use as healing or relaxation meditations. He asked us to imagine ourselves walking through a beautiful forest, and from there moved along to places we saw, beings we met, and the like. I was amazed to find that almost from the beginning of the meditation, I would see the images on my mental screen before Schwarz gave each instruction. I was "reading his mind"!

So what does all this mean? Schwarz had opened the door to a whole new, previously unknown area for me. Following an intuitive leading got me to this lecture, and again, as with my encounter with Christian Science, prepared me for an experience that would not manifest until more than a year later.

Intuition, serendipity, spiritual leadings, or being led by God -- call it what you will. To learn to follow such promptings regularly, even moment-to-moment, is a tremendously important skill!

A Christian Science Healing

It has been several months since I have told here any of the story of my "spiritual journey." I would like to continue it now.

At last telling, I was living in San Francisco and attending Lone Mountain College. I need to backtrack just a bit here. Before I moved to San Francisco, when I was living in Palo Alto, I encountered someone on a street corner who handed me a publication from the Christian Scientists. It should be noted first-off that Christian Scientists do not proselytize and that this was therefore a very unusual happening. I took it as a sign.

My response was to find a Christian Science Reading Room and to purchase a copy of Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures, written by Mary Baker Eddy, the founder of Christian Science. I read it cover-to-cover, then began studying it in more detail.

At some point, I believe after I moved to San Francisco, I went again to a Reading Room to find the name of a Christian Science practitioner. Practitioners in Christian Science have completed very advanced studies in this persuasion and counsel people, most of them members of the Christian Science Church, guiding them in their understanding in such a way that a healing of a physical or mental state may take place. I chose a name from a list of practitioners and went to this gentleman, to speak more about Christian Science as much as to seek healing for any particular condition. Our meeting was fascinating.

Some months later, I was eating lunch with several other young women in the dining room at Lone Mountain. One of the women talked about a serious ear condition she was experiencing. She felt great concern, especially since the specialist who could perform the surgery she needed could not see her for several months, and she feared she would lose her hearing entirely.

I offered her my encouragement and proceeded on to the college library to listen to a recording of a piece of music we were to analyze for a humanities course. I put on the earphones and began to listen, but found I could not keep my attention focused on the music. The face of the young woman with the hearing problem crowded everything else out.

Finally, I stopped the recording and closed my eyes. I began to recite a few phrases I had memorized from Science and Health, and spoke silently as best I could in imitation of the Christian Science session I had had with the practitioner. I continued doing this until finally the woman's image faded, and then I returned to listening to the assigned music.

The next day in the cafeteria I happened to be sitting at a table next to the one where this same young woman was eating. She said to her companions, "You know, the strangest thing happened yesterday afternoon. All of a sudden there was a sound like an explosion in my ear, and now I can hear perfectly!"

I must emphasize that I don't take any personal credit for this happening. A healing like this occurs because of Truth, not person. In this shadow world we seem to occupy, many thoughts of limitation and suffering present themselves. When the omnipotence, the all-encompassing Reality of the One called God is realized, these limits can fade away.

Mary Baker Eddy gives seven synonyms for God: Mind, Spirit, Soul, Principle, Life, Truth and Love. She states in Science and Health (page 256, lines 1-8): "The finite must yield to the infinite. Advancing to a higher plane of action, thought rises from the material sense to the spiritual, from the scholastic to the inspirational, and from the mortal to the immortal. All things are created spiritually. Mind, not matter, is the creator. Love, the divine Principle, is the Father and Mother of the universe, including man."

This surprising introduction to the power of Christian Science was only one occurrence in a train of coincidences manifesting for me in California. Though I didn't see it at the time, this acquaintance with Christian Science was a preparation.

Windows of the Soul

I am grateful for the marvel of eyesight. Thirty years ago, one of my eyes suffered a retinal detachment, and a doctor in Tucson, whose name I have regretfully forgotten, did such a finely crafted repair that the sight in that eye has been quite serviceable ever since.

In the last several weeks, I have had some further work done on my eyes that has again brought me new clarity of sight. So, my gratitude is extended to another skilled doctor and his team, who perform such a delicate and sight-enhancing art.

Sight is indeed a wonder, though it is often taken for granted. It enables us to experience the astonishing beauty and intricacy of all the details that surround us at every moment.

What magic there is in color! The blue of the jay, the soft cream of a rose, a bright pink blouse, the paint-daubed palette of an artist. And how intriguing that each subtle shading represents a different frequency of light vibration.

As one always so delighted by books and libraries, I find another gift of sight -- the cosy, always fascinating world of reading.

There can be a seeming dark side to seeing. Sight is perhaps the strongest of the five senses, and as such, very seductive. What we see can so easily entrap us into identifying ourselves with the limits of three dimensions. An old cliche notes that "Seeing is believing." And this is sadly true: If you believe the world is as it appears to be, and is the only reality, then you may be locked into a confined view and miss out on realizing the Grandeur, the changeless Real beyond all earthly sights and thoughts.

Sight, of course, has many aspects. Among them is the mystery of in-sight, the flash of knowing that requires no eyes or thinking. And there are the visionaries -- mystics, poets, and leaders who have been able to share to some extent their different visions of what is, or could be, or should be.

All in all, eyesight, vision, brings much to be grateful for as it allows us to navigate and enjoy this amazing world. I encourage you to consciously rediscover sight (and all the precious senses), to appreciate, to experiment and play with its wonders, to hold it in affection and love, so that you might come to see what else there is to "see."

Diversity and the One -- and Song

My friend Anton has reminded me that it would be well to take another step in my comments (in my last post) on the importance of cultural diversity. The beauty of multiplicity in life and spirituality is that all can be seen as expression, the activity of That One which knows no diversity and indeed, cannot be described. This "Mysterium Tremendum" might be said to be the Essence, the Light to the variegated patterns of peoples, cultures, religious beliefs, and the arts which decorate our evanescent world.

* * *

In his book The Wayfinders (Toronto: Anansi Press, 2009) , Wade Davis describes the Aboriginal people of Australia. These people, with their nonlinear way of thinking, live a very sophisticated cosmology. At the heart of the Aboriginal world are the primordial ancestors. To quote Davis (p. 148): "The Aborigines accepted life as it was, a cosmological whole, the unchanging creation of the first dawn, when earth and sky separated and the original Ancestor, the Rainbow Serpent, brought into being all the primordial ancestors who through their thoughts, dreams and journeys sang the world into existence."

A favorite picture that I keep in my bedroom shows a perfectly shaped maple tree, bare-branched, silhouetted against a vibrant orange sky. Under the image is printed this version of Psalm 50:1 (I don't know which translation this is from): "God the Lord speaks, and summons the earth from the rising of the sun to its setting."

Canadian philosopher-metaphysician Kenneth G. Mills, when asked why singing has such magic to it, replied ". . . It says that the Word was with God, and the Word was God, and it could not have helped but be a sound or a song, because in essence it was vibration." (from Question and Answer Encounters with Kenneth G. Mills, Toronto: The Kenneth G. Mills Foundation, 2008; p. 38).

Across multiple cultures, what an exquisite mystery!

Demise of Our "Elder Brothers"?

While in Arizona last month, I heard a talk given by a Navajo artist, a creator of kachina sculptures. The kachina are spirits in the Navajo belief system, and it has been traditional for Navajo carvers to create kachina dolls to educate the children about their culture. This artist said something which to me was very sad: the young people leave home to go to school and then to find work (there is little on the reservation) away from their culture, and the tradition of kachina dolls is dying.

Ethnobotanist Wade Davis, in his book The Wayfinders (Toronto: House of Anansi Press, 2009), describes a number of different cultures that he has encountered in his work. Several points he makes in his book are especially vivid to me.

Most of the cultures he describes live directly off the land -- as hunter-gatherers or farmers -- and do not see themselves as separate from the natural world. They experience all that surrounds them as sacred. In their eyes, the violation of the earth, whether by deforestation, strip mining, mountaintop removal or the like, is a puzzling and terrible act of sacrilege.

Davis describes a tribe of natives living in the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta in South America who consider the land where they live as "the heart of the world." As such, these people call themselves the "Elder Brothers," the caretakers of the whole world. The outsiders who desecrate the earth and threaten its very existence by their ignorant and careless actions are considered as the "Younger Brothers."

The other point I wanted to highlight here is that of the dying of whole cultures. Davis notes that half of the 7,000 languages spoken in the world today are not being taught to indigenous children. As the elders die, so do the languages, and within one or two generations, the social, intellectual and spiritual heritage once passed along through those languages, the culture, is gone forever.

Davis tells the horrific story of how the colonialists and missionaries considered the indigenous peoples they encountered as savage, backward, not quite human. These views persisted even into the 20th Century. And the indigenous peoples began to die off, devastated by new diseases as well as by the loss of their lands and way of life.

In this small space it's impossible for me to describe some of the truly lovely spirituality typical of these ancient peoples. Suffice it to say that their cultures represent different skill sets, artistry, and cosmology; different world views; wholly different paradigms than the"modern" way of viewing things. The industrialized mode of seeing and doing is so commonplace to many people today that they don't realize it isn't the only way of understanding the universe.

It seems to me to be incredibly arrogant that one culture would attempt to force itself on hundreds, thousands of other cultures, as though there is only one "right" way. This is not to idealize all indigenous cultures, nor to deny that these peoples must change to some extent to meet the changes in the contemporary world (such as global warming!).

Yet it certainly seems a good idea to realize: we are distressed by the genocide that still occurs in some parts of the world, but what about what Davis refers to as "ethnocide"? When a unique world view is lost, what is the cost to all of us?

Hatred No Match For Love

H.H. the Dalai Lama has said: "War and violence would become extinct in one generation if, beginning at the age of five, children were taught to meditate on compassion for an hour a week for the rest of their lives." (as paraphrased by Dr. Wayne Dyer)

This world picture certainly could use some help. This week, we hear of a new terrorism story from New York City and increasing racial slurs sufacing as a primary election approaches in one of the southern states. These are just two small examples from the U.S., let alone the racial and religious hatreds and unspeakable poverty appearing in other areas of the world.

What can one individual do in the face of such boggling attitudes and circumstances?

Emphasize compassion in your every thought, word and action, and encourage others to do the same. Expect to see compassion increase.

Pray, in whatever fashion you know, for all who appear to suffer and for all who appear to inflict suffering.

Acknowledge what you know to be true: that the Source, the Essence of all -- vast, unchanging, ever irradiant -- knows nothing of hatred and human frailty. For the shadowy world picture is like a movie, and as such, is as evanescent as a small cloud before the blazing sun. The Light is the Light of Love, and it can never be overwhelmed.

Rejoice in Love's glory!

Of Books and Cultures

This past weekend I worked at the semi-annual book sale put on by the Friends of our public library. It was gratifying to see the number of book lovers who crammed into the large sale room, looking for a good read. By the end of the 4-day sale, the Friends had gained some $10,000 to be used for special projects at the library which the meager city budget would never cover.

My love of libraries is a longstanding one. Our home in the suburbs of Chicago was located just a block from the Dole Branch of the public library, and I can remember going there from the time I could first begin to read -- and no doubt before. Children's books had a whole separate room, and I can still see vividly two fairy tale illustrations painted in bright tempera on long, vertical, cardboard flats that dominated the room. One was of a stack of animals representing the Brementown Musicians, and the other a picture of Rapunzel with her blond hair in a braid hanging down the length of her tower.

That library had a particular smell to it which is equally memorable. I still catch hints of it from time to time in libraries today, though it's blended with that of synthetic carpet and other modern odors.

I loved that children's room, but how exciting it was in the middle grades to move into an occasional volume from the "grownup" section.

My point? Just reminiscing! And urging: libraries are great places. Read a book! Tell somebody else about a good book you read. Read a book to a child. And support your local library!

* * *

Perhaps the most seminal book in my earlier education was Ruth Benedict's Patterns of Culture. By reading it and related works by renowned anthropologist Margaret Mead, I came to realize that there were many cultures in the world that didn't just look different on the outside, but which represented an entirely different world view than my own.

I'm currently reading two books by anthropologist/ethnobotanist Wade Davis. At one point in his Light at the Edge of the World (National Geographic, 2001), he quotes a linguist colleague speaking about the Penan, a nomadic tribe living in Borneo (he was studying them in the early 1990s). "There is one word for 'he,' 'she,' and 'it,' but six for 'we' . . . . Sharing is an obligation, so there is no word for 'thank you.'"

Davis goes on to say, "The greatest contrast between the Penan and ourselves may well be the value that they place on community. Since they carry everything on their backs, they have no incentive to accumulate material objects. They measure wealth not by the extent of their possessions but by the strength of their relationships."

(More on Davis' ideas to come.)

Spring into Newness

"What's new?" -- an old but very important question.

I have just returned from a visit to Arizona: Sedona, the Grand Canyon (neither of which I have ever seen before) and Tucson, where I lived for 6 years some 30 years ago. Here is newness aplenty!

What a wonder spring in the desesrt is! I always marvel at the powerful vitality of the Sonora desert; it's not just a dead, brown wasteland, but a very lively place in its own way. It's as if the life forms there radiate the energy of the sun that blazes so brightly, each tough little plant and creeping lizard very much alive.

Spring in Tucson seems to multiply this effect even more. Everything is throbbing with color: bougainvilla with its masses of astonishing deep red, ocotillo whips topped by fiery orange blooms, and along the roadsides , golden California poppies and blue-purple lupine. My friend's garden is filled with flowers of every sort. Many plants I could not name, but her roses are enormous, their fragrance out-perfumed only by the jasmine. Such amazing and riotous beauty offers a tremendous opportunity to wonder and to rejoice with gratitude.

All this is in addition to the mysterious red rock formations that circle Sedona, and the breathtaking majesty of the Grand Canyon.

The power and artistry of the landscapes were accompanied by the inspiration from a spiritual workshop I attended while in Arizona entitled "Don't Fence Me In." This is an apt title for my experiences of newness there. I came away motivated to find more that is new in my moment-to-moment life and to not pull back when I find new activities taking me out of my "comfort zone." I vowed to see new, do new, and Be new.

It's our habits that fence us in -- habits not just of actions, but of words, thoughts, emotions, beliefs, convictions. From infancy on, people learn so many habit patterns from family members, teachers, friends, the media. Such automatic thoughts and behaviors can turn into a largely unconscious, unhappy and meaningless life.

How to tear down the fences and realize spiritual freedom? A few ideas: Be a skeptic; ask questions constantly. Be aware; take in all the amazing details around you and also be aware of just where your thoughts come from and where they are taking you. A popular phrase with a lot of meaning: Be Here Now. Now and new go together.

You don't have to travel to engage newness. But you do need to be willing: willing to question, willing to change, willing to realize that the Power some call God, or Love, never changes. And That Power can lead you into constant newness.

So ask often -- yourself and others -- "What's new?"

Just One Man (Connections, Part 2)

Some years ago, I came upon a charming narration that tells of the wonder of interconnectedness. The story is called "The Man Who Planted Trees." Written by an Italian-French author named Jean Giono, it was originally published in Vogue Magazine in 1954 as "The Man Who Planted Hope and Grew Happiness." I found it in a small book published by Chelsea Green Publishing Co. in 1985, after I heard the story told orally and was deeply moved by it.

Giono tells of hiking through a desolate portion of Provence, so desert-like that he could find no water for over a day. The few tiny hamlets he passed were abandoned and crumbling.

Then he met a lone shepherd, who gave Giono water and welcomed him into his home. In the evening, the author watched with curiosity as his host sorted through a bag of acorns, culling out those that were rotten or broken or too small. The shepherd put one hundred sound acorns to soak in a pail of water. And this, Giono tells, was his first meeting with the man who planted trees.

Giono returned to see his friend periodically over the next several decades, and each time he found the area more and more transformed. Replacing the sparse wild lavender were forests of sturdy trees -- oaks in many places, but also beech trees and birches. Stream beds, formerly dried up, flowed once more with fresh, sweet water. Prosperous farms also greened the former desert landscape. As Giono puts it, "Everything had changed. Even the air."

Abandoned villages were repopulated with many times the number of the original inhabitants. And, the author notes, these people were happy. In his story, Giono estimates that some 10,000 people had been blessed by the man who planted trees.

Only a tale, imagined by Jean Giono? Perhaps, but not an outlandish fantasy. This narrative points once again to the very real, miraculous network of all life, and to the power of a single, simple man with a clear intention.

Toward the end of his account, Giono states: "When you remembered that all this had sprung from the hands and the soul of one man, without technical resources, you understood that men could be as effectual as God in other realms than that of destruction."

This is a story, too, of resurrection. Happy Easter, happy spring -- a season of eternal hope!


Note: One last change! I will be in Arizona for the next 12 days at a special Easter workshop, so there will be no post next Wednesday. See you in two weeks!

Darkness and Light

Today, Saturday, March 27, you are invited to turn off all the lights in your home for Earth Hour -- 8:30 to 9:30 p.m. local time.

Earth Hour, an international demonstration, is sponsored by the World Wildlife Fund. It is intended to be a call for action to ameliorate the effects of climate change, an opportunity to join in making a statement about your concerns. As the WWF puts it, the action sends a visual message that Americans (and people around the world) care.

Participants can be found in 115 countries and 6,000 cities. International landmarks slated to go dark include the Eiffel Tower, Hiroshima Peace Memorial, the Burj Khalifa (world's tallest building) in Dubai UAE, and the "Bird's Nest" stadium in China.

In the US, 26 states will turn off the lights on goverment buildings and in the governors' mansions. Such prominent U.S. landmarks as the Golden Gate Bridge, Mt. Rushmore, and Niagara Falls will participate. In New York City, the UN Headquarters, the Empire State Building, and all the marquees on Broadway theaters (as well as many other prominent buildings) will click off their lights for that one hour.

The results of this campaign may appear as a "wave of darkness" moving across the time zones. But that earthly black is actually a wave of enlightenment, a visible vote for good stewardship and a new way of life that works in rhythm with the interconnectedness of all.

There is much to be done; Earth Hour is only a symbolic act, which must be followed by immediate and far-reaching action at every level of society. The interesting aspect is to see how many, many people are stating, for this one hour, that they are ready for change.

* * *

To my regular readers: Apologies for the pause in posting -- the violent windstorm here in Connecticut left my house without electricity for a week , and me without regular use of a computer. I am changing my posting day to Wednesdays now, in anticipation of a number of weekend wedding engagements.

Connections

In an interview published in the March 2010 issue of Shambhala Sun, Jon Kabat-Zinn is quoted as saying, "Given the condition we find ourselves in these days on this planet, understanding our interconnections is not a spiritual luxury; it's a societal imperative."

One obvious way in which people are interconnected today is through the Internet. In the late 1960s, I knocked on neighbors' doors and stood on street corners, circulating a petition calling for an end to the Vietnam War. I eventually garnered some 100 signatures (maybe more) and traveled to Washington DC to deliver the petition to my Congressman and to a Vietnamese diplomat whose position I don't recall. With the petition I left a book published by the American Friends Service Committee regarding methods to achieve peace in Vietnam. It was a small, naive gesture on my part, though a great adventure for me that involved moving way out of my "comfort zone."

By contrast, today I can sit at my computer and receive petitions for my signature from all kinds of organizations. There are petitions from environmental organizations seeked to protect endangered species or ecosystems; petitions from political organizations regarding the status of various bills in the U.S. Congress; and petitions from global organizations regarding the welfare of people half a world away from me.

The remarkable aspect of this is that some of these petitions have been signed by hundreds of thousands of people. And they can make a difference. What a contrast to the 1960s! The Internet is a more impersonal and less demanding way to express an urgent opinion, but these petitions point to the interconnectedness of all the people on this planet.

Nature gives us clues to the interconnection of all life, with its amazing, delicate balances, from the sub-cellular level to an entire ecosystem. Human activity can disrupt these balances so easily. A respect for our environment is vital now because our connections with it, though sometimes not seen, will ultimately affect all people, including those not even born yet.

What great, mysterious Power weaves all the connections, all the intricate patterns, into another, grander Pattern?

Kenneth G. Mills, in his book Given to Praise (Sun-Scape Publications, 1976), has stated, "You are not a man of a nation. You are a Light experience, or a Conscious experience, and only secondarily a person with a nationality. You are Conscious Experience primarily." How can there be wars among nations when each and every citizen is fundamentally Conscious Experience? That is interconnection at its most profound level.

Be grateful for this connectedness, wonder at it, and strive to find it expressed in your moment-to-moment actions as Love.

A Still, Not-so-small Voice

Looking back to the 1970s, I realize that many of my actions were in response to intuitive promptings, some of which were not recognized as such until later. Intuition cannot be thought-up; rather, it is a knowing, an impetus to doing, a pressure toward newness. Its linguistic root, according to the American Heritage Dictionary, means "contemplation." What a wonder it is! Here's some of what happened:

"Don't I know you?" I was returning home from the laundromat when a man walking in the opposite direction stopped and seemed to recognize me. In the fall of 1969, I rented an apartment in Oak Park, Illinois, where I had grown up, and began attending the small Friends Meeting there. It turned out we recognized each other from the Oak Park Meeting. I set down my heavy bag of laundry, and we talked for half an hour standing in the middle of the sidewalk.

A romance ensued, and I found myself courageously dropping everything to follow this man out to California in January, 1970. This was a huge leap for me, given that I had just recently recovered from depression and several years of hospitalization.

The romance didn't work out; its ending was a time of many tears, but a strong prompting told me I had to break it off, no matter how painful this would be, for the sake of my own growth. Nevertheless, the whirlwind romance brought me to California -- the right place at the right time -- to take the next steps on my spiritual path. That relationship, though it ended in disappointment, opened the door to so much. Thank God for the power of intution, even (or especially) when it's pointing to something you would rather not do!

Soon after my arrival in California, I joined the Palo Alto Friends Meeting. A member of that meeting, Carla Taylor (Blessings, Carla!) ran a "creative dance" group at the Meeting House once a week. I joined it, and my confidence and creativity began to thrust up out of the ground like new spring shoots. The procedure for the group was perhaps typical of California at that time: just dance what you feel.

Carla gave the group occasional exercises, such as dancing with our eyes closed. One time, we opened our eyes to discover that everyone in the group was holding hands. We had formed, all with closed eyes, an approximate circle, each one holding the next one's hand. Here was intuition again, a small but beautiful whisper to everyone there.

Carla played a lot of classical music recordings, which were my favorites to dance to. My "most favorite" was Rodrigo's guitar classic, "Concerto de Aranjuez," to which I did grand sweeps around the room with moments of crouching down, then reaching with dramatic longing toward the ceiling.

When I danced with Carla's group, or when I attended the meetings for worship, a lot of old baggage seemed to be melting away. I also discovered the joys of California-style weekend workshops focussing on gestalt therapy, self discovery and expression, and the like. I began to change, rapidly. And many intuitive experiences were yet to come.

Take a moment to be quiet and consider whether you are aware of intuitive promptings in your life. Do you tend to follow them or push them away? It takes bravery to realize that you don't know what the result of this prompting will be when it is put into action. Such promptings can be incredibly valuable, leading to openings into new, less limited experiences.

"Friendly Persuasion" -- Part 2

"Quakers -- aren't they like the Amish?" I've heard this and similar remarks a number of times when I say I was a Quaker for many years. Somehow it always surprises me how many people are unfamiliar with this wonderful religious group.

The Religious Society of Friends was founded in seventeenth-century England by a man named George Fox -- a seeker who underwent vivid spiritual experiences which became the foundation for the faith and practices of his followers. Friends believed (and still do) that divine Truth is continuously being revealed and is directly available to all. Thus the original Friends eschewed the sacraments and other churchly rituals, including the need for intercession by a minister or priest. Their worship services were silent as participants "waited upon the Lord," alert for direct experience of divine guidance.

The word "Quakers," though probably more familiar to the general public, is not used officially by the Society of Friends. It may well have been derived from the admonition by Geroge Fox to his followers to "tremble at the word of the Lord."

Friends desired to see all treated equally, as they believed there was an "Inner Light" in everyone or "that of God in every man." They refused to tip their hats or use the impersonal pronoun "you" to social superiors (thus the use of the familiar "thee," still occasionally found among Quakers today). And, they refused to be conscripted into the military and renounced all war.

Although the movement grew rapidly, Friends underwent considerable persecution for their beliefs and their tendency to "publish the Truth" far and wide. Being imprisoned or beaten for their convictions, the Friends' sensitivity to injustice and cruelty led them to work for the welfare of prisoners and the insane (as they still do now), and to protest vocally against slavery.

Several centuries later, this persuasion led to the formation of the American Friends Service Committee. As the outreach arm of Quakers in the U.S., the AFSC is widely recognized today for its effective work in promoting peace and social justice.

Despite persecution, the Society of Friends continued to expand in Britain, and, soon, in America. The group ultimately was instrumental in the development of religious tolerance in both countries. They also advocated fair dealings with American Indians, and Quaker John Woolman led the outcry among Friends and other Americans, beginning in the 18th century, against slavery.

In the mid-1800s, the Society of Friends experienced several schisms, the offshoot of which can still be seen today: some Friends meet under the care of a minister, while others retain the original format of meeting together without clergy in totally silent worship.

The Religious Society of Friends can now be found worldwide.

The above is (obviously) an extremely brief history, which I have based largely on a chapter in Faith and Practice, A Quaker Guide to Christian Discipline. This particular edition was issued in 1973 by the Pacific Yearly Meeting of Friends. A volume called Friends for Three Hundred Years, by Howard H. Brinton, gives a detailed and very readable history of the Society.

Brinton has referred to the Quakers' meetings for worship as "group mysticism," noting that meeting together in unity can deepen spiritual experiences beyond those which a person might have when alone. I love the phrase "gathered meeting," which refers to a meeting for worship in which all members become aware of Divine Presence.

It was this sort of experience, along with the Quakers' pacifism, which gathered me in and led me to an association with the Society of Friends that lasted for almost two decades.


NOTE: Please expect to see my posts published each Sunday.

"Friendly Persuasion"

I had decided in early adolescence that I was an agnostic. Then, a few years later, I discovered the Religious Society of Friends, or Quakers.

Adolescence was tough for me; I developed a serious depression, for which I was ultimately hospitalized for a time at Presbyterian-St. Luke's Hospital in Chicago. There I met a psychiatrist who also worked at Chicago State Hospital, where he had spearheaded a unique (for the late 1950s) program. In this program, young people teamed together to go to the state hospital and visit with some of the patients. Sponsored by the American Friends Service Committee (AFSC -- more about them next time), it was called an "institutional service unit," or ISU for short.

On my first Saturday as an ISU-er, I entered one of the state hospital's "back wards" with some trepidation. It bore little resemblance to the shiny new psychiatric facility where I had been treated a few months before. This one smelled of urine; feces were smeared on the walls of the shower room. Many of the men were pacing or sat crouched against the walls, seemingly oblivious to everything around them. Decibel level was high, both because the room was bare, with tiled walls and concrete floor, and because of the moaning, crying, squawking and other sounds uttered by some of the residents.

Uneasy, I focussed on one of the less bizarre appearing patients, a youngish man who reminded me a bit of movie star Montgomery Clift. He was squatting by one of the walls, too, but his dress and grooming were reasonably neat and he was silent. I tried talking to him, but since I was quite shy myself in those days, I'm not sure how much I had to say.

Mostly I urged him to come and play cards or some such. Looking back, I'm embarrassed for what I must have been like -- jabbering at this fellow with perhaps little awareness of his feelings or subtle responses. He just stayed silent and let me lead him around the ward, though he never did participate in any card game or other activity.

If nothing else, the youthful members of our ISU certainly brought newness to the place. New faces, new energy, new -- if not always skillful -- stimuli for the patients. And apparently the program was having some success. The psychiatrist who had inaugurated it seemed pleased with what was happening, and Life magazine published an article about it.

The ISU was very successful in another way -- it opened a new door for me. After spending the day at the state hospital, our young crew returned to an elderly house in one of Chicago's poorer neighborhoods. The house was kept by the AFSC for various community action programs in the area. Here, everybody joined together to cook and serve dinner (pasta) for ourselves, and then ate together, washed dishes together, sang and chatted through the evening. The fellowship felt wonderful.

The next morning, our group held a typical Quaker meeting for worship. This was again a totally new experience for me. The worship was held in silence -- a delicious meditative silence that embraced and inspired. Occasionally, someone would stand up and speak briefly, mostly about spiritual thoughts or discoveries. The statements didn't interrupt, but for the most part deepened the silence.

With the ending of the worship meeting, the ISU was over for the weekend. I went back to my family's home, in love with stillness and convinced that I had found new spiritual nourishment.

"The Gentle Art of Blessing"

How many people give out an automatic exclamation when someone sneezes: "Bless you!" But do they realize this response, rescued from the automatic, can become a powerful spiritual practice?

A gentleman named Pierre Pradervand has written a book entitled The Gentle Art of Blessing (Hillsboro, OR: Beyond Words & New York, NY: Atria Paperback, c 2009). In it, he defines "blessing" as follows: "To bless means to wish, unconditionally and from the deepest chamber of your heart, unrestricted good for others and events; it means to hallow, to hold in reverence, to behold with awe that which is always a gift from the Creator. . . . To bless is to invoke divine care upon, to speak or think gratefully for, to confer happiness upon, although we ourselves are never the bestower but simply the joyful witnesses of life's abundance."

Pradervand explains that this practice can and should be used at every moment -- to bless the day at its beginning, to bless the details of your life, to bless those with whom you interact as well as the strangers you pass on the street.

Blessing might be seen as a combination of gratitude, loving, and praiseful wonder. Pradervand notes that "Many of us have been told of the benefits of gratitude, but the art of blessing is something more: extending sincere, benevolent wishes from the bottom of our heart to another person."

The practice of blessing is also a way to develop awareness and to avoid the all-too-common habit of judging. And, Pradervand emphasizes, it is equally important to bless ourselves (often the targets of our own harshest judgments), thus acknowledging the truth that we are the beloved, treasured "children" of the ineffable, universal Love.

Pradervand spends a good bit of his book outlining the universal laws that the practice of blessing brings into play. As these laws are activated, so are the blessee and the blessor both blessed. These laws, such as the Golden Rule and the Law of Universal Harmony, are not limited to any one religious faith.

Blessing is not a mental practice so much as an attitude of the heart which enriches all and often changes circumstances -- as well as other people and ourselves -- for the better. The book is filled with examples and testimonies regarding the amazing power of blessing.

My own experience of beginning to practice the art of blessing is that I find chattering thoughts quieted and a feeling of warmth, joy and happiness welling up.

The Hindus have a Sanskrit blessing that has now become known in the West as well: "Namaste" -- "I acknowledge the divine in you."

Namaste!

Grateful Resolutions

Ah, the first few days of 2010 -- many people think, time to make annual resolutions!

It would be a good idea to observe yourself and your thinking if you are going to set about making and fulfilling resolutions.

Are you saying you will accomplish the resolution "sometime this year"? Be specific! Yet remember, what we call "the future" can only be in your thought. Be aware always of the Now that is all there is, and be surprised at what appears to happen.

Are you trying to "fix" yourself, make yourself "better" (or worse yet, subtly make somebody else "better" in your resolution)? Do it with love, as Love! Could God, or the divine Principle, or a Higher Power, be disgusted with Itself, impatient with Itself, think Itself incomplete? Know now the Perfection of your true nature as Love, magically seen wearing a human garment. Then work with "everything you've got" to do your very best.

Finally, be grateful for your intention. Be grateful now for its accomplishment, although it seems not to have materialized yet. Give thanks before the blessing (and find there's a blessing right now)!

One method for offering your thanksgiving (as well as to fulfill that resolution to get more exercise) is to walk, in every weather and in every season. Appreciate the details: the sky and the changing angle of the sunlight; the subtle fragrances that accompany each season; the stalwart trees; the sound of a particular bird.

If you're walking indoors (some people recommend a large shopping mall), then use all your senses to appreciate your surroundings.

Then praise as you walk, or as you go about your daily tasks: "Glory be to Thee, O Infinite One! I rejoice in Thy beauty, Thy majesty, Thy magnificence! I thank Thee for Thy omnipotent Presence and all that flows therefrom! I thank Thee for Thy unceasing abundance, Thy grandeur, Thy awesome radiance! I rejoice in the perfect, all-enfolding Love that IS!

Such exclamations soon fill you up with a most wonderful and happy glow and a state perfect for rejoicing in the already-presence of your intention accomplished.

Another great "sound-track" to play in your mind as you walk is to repeat words and/or music of hymns of thanksgiving you may have learned in your house of worship. Or memorize simple new verses to keep the gratitude flowing.

One which I recently read is from Jeremiah (Chapter 17, line 14 in the King James version of the Old Testament): "Heal me, O Lord, and I shall be healed; save me, and I shall be saved; for Thou art my praise!"

Praise and give gratitude always. This can be a resolution in itself, as well as a great motivator to carry you to whatever is your intended resolution.

Rejoice!