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!
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Saturday, March 27, 2010
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.
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.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
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.
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.
Monday, March 1, 2010
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.
"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.
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