Across, Beyond, Through

2003-06-12T14:39:00.000-07:00

It's DONE! Please join me at the new and improved ACROSS, BEYOND, THROUGH at http://www.acrossbeyondthrough.com Thanks for your patience--See ya there!

2003-06-12T07:12:00.000-07:00

Hey all you blog investors! Look what the Blogshares analysts have to say about Across, Beyond, Through: "Analysts Report This is a growing blog (BUY) This stock is underpriced (BUY)" What are you waiting for?

2003-06-11T16:49:00.000-07:00

I came across this poem this afternoon and it just went --zing!!-- I knew it was what I needed. I knew I needed to ponder it. I knew I needed to breathe into it, lean into it, recover that part of my soul that trusts. Amen. Answered Prayers (excerpt) by Kathleen Norris It was then I knew it had to be like prayer. We can't ask for what we know we want: we have to ask to be led someplace we never dreamed of going, a place we don't want to be. We'll find ourselves there one morning, opened like leaves, and it will be all right.

2003-06-11T07:26:00.000-07:00

Okay friendly readers, this is a HEADS UP! In the next few days, I'm moving outta here. I have come to hate blogspot and am working, with good help from Dean on moving this blog to its own domain and powering it with Moveable Type. I'm already tired of having no reliable archiving and not enough features to make blogging fun. Besides, being on blogspot is just a blatant admission of being a know-nothing, newbie blogger. And I'm vain. So, in a day or two (I'll let you know when) I'm going to put you through the minor inconvenience of changing your bookmarks, links, etc to acrossbeyondthrough.com. It won't be that painful, really. Until then, I'll enjoy my new status of "Flippery Fish" over at NZ Bear's Blogosphere Ecosystem. Now we'll see if I can convince the Google Ghouls over at Blogger to give me my money back!

2003-06-10T09:09:00.000-07:00

"The seed of god is in us. Given an intelligent and hard-working farmer, it will thrive and grow up to god, whose seed it is; and accordingly its fruit will be god-nature. Pear seeds grow into pear trees, nut seeds into nut trees, and god seed into god." ~Meister Eckhart, ca. 1300

2003-06-09T12:00:00.000-07:00

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2003-06-09T10:04:00.000-07:00

The Strange Little Things That Make You Happy I can't deny it...I've been in a bit of a funk lately. My sweetie says I have all the signs of depression, but since I've never been prone to it, I think it's just situational. The exhaustion of the end of a church year, the stress of seeing the kids off to camp, and stuff like that. But a couple of things have made me feel good today. One was a very nice review of this blog over at Tiger: Raggin' & Rantin'. I was nervous, since because Blogspot had "lost" all the archives, I couldn't receive a single vote in Truth Laid Bear's New Weblog Showcase. Tiger is right about Blogspot. It won't take me much longer to get out of here. Blogspot stinks. They're slow, they lose all the archives, and they don't support comments or trackback. As soon as I get time and money to investigate all my options--or as soon as my brother gets back from Japan to lend a hand, I'm outta here. One other thing on my list of "strange things that make you happy." A few weeks ago we bought a lowly hermit crab. My daughter had gotten one for her birthday and when we learned they don't like to be alone, we went to the local pet store and bought Bob. He was small, feisty, and fun to watch. The problem was, he came in a shell that was ugly, tiny, and had several nasty holes in it. We've been providing him with a variety of shells ever since and finally, sometime last night (now that the kids are away and can't see it, of course!) Bob molted! Here's a picture of him in his shiny new shell: It's a small thing, it's a strange thing, but it did make me smile!

2003-06-07T15:38:00.000-07:00

I've been so busy. And now the kids are gone. Off to camp for four weeks. I won't see them again until July 7. It's weird. I've been struggling to be civil to these preteens with immense attitude for weeks. And now I miss them. It's been four hours and already I miss them. I thought I'd get at least four days! Eventually I might get a glimpse of them here, but no phone calls or emails. I can email them and they are required to write home once a week, but it already seems like not enough. To tell the truth, even though they are 12 and 11 years old, I've never been away from them this long. And my sweetie and I, who met when they were 5 and 6, have never been without kids for more than ten days in our entire relationship. It is going to be strange. (good? bad? both?) I'm betting on "all of the above." More later. Right now I have to go experience how quiet my house can be...

2003-06-05T13:02:00.000-07:00

A lot of interesting conversations in different places have gotten me thinking about intimacy. Some of what I've been reading has been about Unitarian Universalists' fear of intimacy and how that may affect theology and worship style. Do UU's fear intimacy? Probably. Any more or less than any other group of people? Not that I've noticed. Maybe my congregation is different, but I'm seeing a marked longing for intimacy. Small groups are springing up all over the congregation. There are groups for families; dinner groups; theology discussions; a group that calls itself SANTAH for secularists, agnostics, non-theists, atheists and humanists; a "religious transitions" group for people who are leaving or have left a powerful religious past; Evensong groups, men's journaling groups, dream groups, and more. What do they all have in common? They are fostering the two things that another favorite theologian, James Luther Adams said are the answer to the question, "Why church?": intimacy and ultimacy. Intimacy and ultimacy have been on my mind a lot lately. Probably because I am wrestling with my own theology. Over the years, I've had quite the theological journey: from Methodism to Congregationalism to Fundamentalism to Paganism to Unitarian Universalism. Whew! That's a lot of "-isms"! Lately, as the question of religious language has come up in UU circles, I've been asking myself "Why not God?" Over the years I've become comfortable with ultimacy. I believe and am grateful that there is something bigger than me. Sometimes I think that "something" is the human community.Sometimes it's just a higher power. Sometimes I think it's the universe. Sometimes I think it is my own "best self" calling me. And sometimes, I wonder if it's God. A few days ago I read Real Live Preacher's story He wrote: In our world we have separated mind from body to our great loss. Here a man may betray his wife and neglect his children, but say he loves them “down inside”. Bullshit. There is no “down inside.” Love is something you do, not something you feel. Likewise, we think having faith means being convinced God exists in the same way we are convinced a chair exists. People who cannot be completely convinced of God’s existence think faith is impossible for them. Not so. People who doubt can have great faith because faith is something you do, not something you think. In fact, the greater your doubt the more heroic your faith. I learned that it doesn’t matter in the least that I be convinced of God’s existence. Whether or not God exists is none of my business, really. What do I know of existence? I don’t even know how the VCR works. What does matter is whether or not I am faithful. I think faithful is a hell of a good word. It still has some of its original shine. It still calls us to action. Now, if I were to go back to being a Christian, I'd want to be one like that. Less arguing (with others and with myself) about if God exists and if so, whether it's as one or three in one or whatever. More living faithfully. More willingness to say, "Hey, there's something bigger than calls me to be faithful. That's all I need to know." Of course, the problem then becomes, what does it mean to be faithful? How do I live faithfully? How do I know what in the heck this "something bigger" wants me to do? And that's where Christianity has dropped the ball. As many of my Universalist and Unitarian Christian friends say, "It's become a religion about Jesus instead of the religion of Jesus. If Christianity were really about loving God with heart, mind, soul, strength, and loving my neighbor as myself, I'd be okay. It's all the other stuff that's gotten tangled up with it that makes it impossible for me. Most importantly, it's Christianity's arrogance in thinking it is the only way to approach ultimacy that makes it impossible for me to want anyone to think of me as a Christian. Besides, even if I am a Christian, I am also a pagan, and a Jew, and a humanist, and a Buddhist, and a transcendentalist and definitely an agnostic. I'm probably a few more things too, I just haven't encountered them at a deep enough level to feel the sacredness they express. I have no problem with ultimacy--God is everywhere and nowhere, sacred Mystery, ineffable, and yes, Across, Beyond, and Through... But intimacy...hmmm...that's harder for me. I have deep relationships with other people. I have a partner, children, and friends who know me inside and out. With them, the masks are put away, the walls are down, the pretense is gone. That's intimacy. But intimacy with God? With that ineffable, mysterious, indescribable, beyondness? Hmmmm....I don't know about that. I resist anthropomorphism. If I know anything about this godstuff, it's that I know very little about this godstuff. I imagine things. I create metaphor. I illustrate and tell stories. I feel and experience. But do I know? Not really. Perhaps the key is in there after all. I do feel and experience something sacred in my life. I feel the pull--the lure--of the divine. I feel what I cannot know. It is, perhaps, the most intimate thing in my life. I rarely find words that adequately describe it and so I cannot really share it. It's not a "guy in the sky" who tells me stuff and makes requests. Instead, intimacy with the sacred is that deep down feeling when something is right or needs doing or shouldn't be taken for granted. It's something like conscience, but not limited to keeping me from breaking the rules. It's like a positive conscience that I hear inside me saying, "Yes, yes, that's the way. Yes, yes, take the risk. Yes, yes, well done, my faithful one." A still, small voice indeed. From the Unitarian Universalist hymnal "Singing the Living Tradition" (#391): Voice still and small, deep inside all, I hear you call, singing. In dark and rain, sorrow and pain, still you remain, singing. Calming my fears, quenching my tears, through all the years, singing.

2003-06-04T18:04:00.000-07:00

Guilt. Guilt. Guilt. That's what I feel about not having posted for a few days and I'm reminded what a singularly unhelpful emotion it is. Every time I've even thought about posting, I've run up against a screaming wall of guilt and I've turned and fled. Nothing about the shouting critics in my head was useful in getting me to sit down and write. It's hard to believe that all this pressure is coming from...well...me. The only one with expectations of daily entries that drip with meaningful commentary on important topics is...well...me. Why can't I stop and give myself a break? Yes, I said I'd return and comment on Chris Walton's post about Whitehead. I wish I had the time I need to sit, to read, to ponder, to formulate an articulate reply. It's just not happening right now. Instead, I'm rushing around trying to prepare to send my kids off to summer camp for a month and dealing with all that is happening at the end of this church year. I did take the time to apologize to the church member I offended. She was gracious and I think all will be well. A colleague of mine reminded me today of the best advice she ever got on ministry, "Be prepared to apologize twenty times a day." It may be a bit of an exaggeration but I have found that the most important skill I've learned is to be non-defensive. Because integrity is what most people are looking for in a minister and have a hard time trusting, any whiff of defensiveness is like a whiff of fear to a mad dog. In this case, I did make a mistake, and it would do no good to explain it or try to excuse it. The only thing that works is a genuine, "I am sorry." It was easy this time because I am genuinely sad and sorry. I just ran across this poem again, by a colleague of mine, Nancy Shaffer. (In her book Instructions in Joy) It will have to do for my commentary on religious language and "god-talk," at least for now: For Margaret, Who Fights the Same Battle Over and Over Listen: When you quarrel with God really you are quarreling with those who have come after God. It is not God who taught you only a certain prayer or said reward lies in only one direction. It's not God who said reward rather than embracing love, which is everwhere; not God who taught you to hate God, shun God. Those like you-- two-legged and mortal--did this: those also hurt, in turn, by others before them. You could leave off this quarreling: just begin again, with just yourself and God. You can choose a different name for the Holy; stop cringing when I say mine. Each is only a word for what can't be said, the barest beginning, a glimpse. The rest you may do in private. But see, what you do there in private shows: what you come back with is written all over you. It doesn't matter what the particular word is. Only that you have been there to fetch it. Only that you return there often, opening yourself to everything that makes it. Those who taught you what to pray and how to pray were wrong, if what they taught you, you hate. You can begin again.

2003-06-01T17:40:00.000-07:00

It's going to be hard to post eight days running because that means I have to find a way to post on Sundays, and Sundays are tough for a minister. After the early morning preparation and writing, the mid-morning preaching, managing and greeting, and the post-church events and discussions, I am always exhausted. After a late afternoon nap, I hope to reconnect with my family before the next work/school week begins for them. Trying to find the time and energy to write is going to be hard. I definitely want to spend some time thinking about what Chris Walton's just posted over at philocrites.com. It seems Chris and I share a favorite philosopher, Alfred North Whitehead. We also seem to share a common feeling of appreciation for complexity. I love the way Chris applied North's thinking to the current discussion of adding more "traditional religious language" to our Unitarian Universalist Principles and Purposes. He makes some points that I want to think about. I'll post my thoughts once I've had time to think 'em! Complexity is on my mind for another reason. I got a good reminder today that one can never predict what will go well and where the problems will be--at least in church life. Today's service which seemed so scattered in the planning turned out beautifully. I wrote a reflection from the heart this morning, not having a clue how much time I'd have or how exactly everything would come together. Not only did everyone else show up to do their part, it all felt relevant and related and we moved easily away from the "awards banquet" feel and on to something more profound. And the service took exactly 58 minutes! ( a good thing--no one likes it if we go more than five minutes under or over an hour.) It's a good thing, too because the place was packed with visitors, many of whom felt welcomed and connected enough to come to the church picnic afterwards. Remember how I said that the workshop with Parker Palmer reminded me that there is a grace at the center of life I can lean into? If only I could remember that while I'm worrying about everything! But of course, along with all that went well I also learned today that I hurt the feelings of someone in the congregation. It's a misunderstanding, but a sad one for me. I've said and done something that made someone feel unimportant and overlooked. It wasn't intentional and in fact, I respect and trust this person very much. As is so often the case with these things, it is simply something I did in haste and said without thinking. And as hard as we ministers try to be diligently thoughtful in all things, we sometimes fail. So as soon as I know I've moved through any defensiveness or need to explain or excuse what I said, I will call and apologize. The hardest part is knowing that I've disappointed and hurt someone I care deeply about. And I know it will take time to rebuild not only her trust in me, but her confidence in herself. This is, for me, the hardest part of ministry--this being human, making mistakes, disappointing people, and hurting the people I care so much for and have been called to serve. More deep breaths and forgiveness for myself and for us all.

2003-05-31T05:52:00.000-07:00

Good morning. It's early because I have to prepare for today's Board retreat, but I am still working on establishing a habit--or discipline--of writing, so here I am. Yesterday's workshop with Parker Palmer was more important for me than I knew it would be. Late May and June are hard months for ministers. We've been at it all year and most of us are feeling tired, worn, and less hopeful than at the beginning of the year. What was amazing about the workshop is how three hours of thoughtful conversation managed to deeply refresh my spirit. The topic of the day was "The Teaching and Learning Community" and what Parker did was create and facilitate a teaching and learning community among us. We listened to poetry and a teaching story and let it work in our thoughts and in our souls. We listened to each other. We shared from our own experience. We talked at length and experienced a bit of what Parker calls, "reuniting soul and role." I was particularly encouraged to hear how much he values public school teachers and the program he's begun for them. Somehow, just participating in this deep discussion renewed my hope and helped me remember how wise, funny, and strong human beings are. And it reminded me that there is a grace at the center of life that I can "lean into" when I'm tired and sad and celebrate when things are going well and I am feeling good. It reminded me again that something sacred is present in moments of real meeting and that each of us carries within us a fragment of the divine. It was a bit like remembering to take a slow, deep breath. Or remembering to slow down enough to notice the beauty around me. Or hearing, deep inside, that quiet voice that says, "Be not afraid..."

2003-05-30T06:54:00.000-07:00

Well, heck. Now I have to start my habit-forming eight days all over again. That's the trick...it has to be eight days in a row. Yesterday I just gave up b/c I felt like I had nothing to say. Of course, the problem with that is that I feel the same way today. I have noticed a few new links to the site, which is great. I've linked back to them on the left. Maybe that's the pressure. Now that I know that a few people are reading, there's more pressure to be astute, funny, relevant...anything but boring! And I feel completely boring today. I'm also pressured in other parts of my life. Tomorrow is our spring Board Retreat and I am the program. And this Sunday's service, which is a celebration of the year and appreciation of teachers and other leaders, has been a real bear to put together. No one seems to want to commit to anything. "Oh, I'll have something ready by Sunday. How long will it be? Oh, I don't know. Put me down for 5 to 10 minutes." How am I supposed to create worship that is actually meaningful if I don't have a clue what will be said? Oh, and my favorite part: everyone wants their part to be a surprise and NOT in the order of service. So we'll have a blank order of service with way too many presenters tripping over one another saying, "Now? Is it my turn?!" I did put my foot down and let everyone know that there would be no surprises. People can have their moment of surprise when they open their order of service and say to themselves, "Me? They're honoring me?!" And I put myself down for a mediatation and a reflection to *try* to make the thing seem like something more than an awards banquet (with no food.) It's days like these when I envy more traditional churches that use the lectionary and therefore have a sense of purpose and direction that keeps them "on track." Of course, the other time I envy them is when I'm trying to come up with sermons for the year. Oh, the "freedom" of having predetermined topics... Maybe that's what I should do here. Come up with a "lectionary" of topics so that when I feel boring, I still have something to talk about. Off to see Parker Palmer now. I'm sure I'll have something to say after that.

2003-05-28T07:56:00.000-07:00

For those of you interested in this post-modern religion and spirituality stuff, why not take part in the next blogger chat hosted by signposts? The topic will be about Christendom/Post-Christendom and leadership. Here are their definitions: CHRISTENDOM: A hierarchical system in which authority flows from the top down. POST-CHRISTENDOM: A system where leadership and direction are shared by those set apart, trained and commissioned, and by those of every rank and status. Details on how to get connected are there, including a browser based client for those of you who may be more theology geeks than technology geeks... It's interesting that this is the topic, since I just started (re)reading a book by one of my colleagues, Roy D. Phillips, that has a very similar take on things. It's called Letting Go. One of the things I like about the book is its focus on ministers and teaching us a new way to lead. If I had to summarize the book in a few words, I'd say, "Most often, to lead is to get out of the way." Roy makes a connection with another book I'm reading, Parker Palmer's The Active Life. Palmer talks at length in this book about the ways that our culture has "professionalized" much of what we used to do for one another. Here's a quote: There was a time when some mental health crises (grieving, for example) were cared for by the lay community rather than by trained therapists. But as we have abandoned the responsibilities of community, we have lost its benefits as well, and the only friend some people can find is one they pay by the hour. ...[T]he true professional is a person whose action points beyond his or her self to that underlying reality, that hidden wholeness on which we can all rely. The grieving person does not need professional technique so much as a restored confidence in the elemental grace of life, the grace forund in community or in nature or in the self. The true professional is one who does not obscure that grace with illusions of technical prowess, but one who strips away all illusions to reveal a reliable truth in which the human heart can rest. We talk a lot about "shared ministry" in Unitarian Universalist circles and I firmly believe that this is what's healthiest for a congregation. I've served after ministers who made themselves the center of everything and been there to pick up pieces in a congregation that had no idea how to be a church without that minister at the center. It was sad to watch a church fall apart because they had no idea how to do all the things a minister had done. I spent much of that ministry saying to them, "It's your church. What would you like it to be for you and for the world?" Now my ministry centers on providing what will nourish, sustain, empower, and bring out the best in others. It is more fun and more satisfying to lead a congregation of people who are leading their own lives and creating together a religious community that is meaningful, relevant, and real. Yes, I struggle with my ego when they don't do what I think is best, but I also get to experience the grace of knowing that I can trust these wise people to find the way that is best for them. What a privilege--to have such amazing work!

2003-05-27T06:49:00.000-07:00

Well, this is the first true test of my blogging discipline. The family spent yesterday at the local amusement park and this morning I feel as though it drained me of any capacity to think coherently. It was loud, hot, and exceedingly tiring. And now I feel I have nothing relevant to say. I am reading an excellent book. It's called Bone Black and it is made up of essays or stories or prose poems about feminist theorist bell hooks' childhood. My favorite so far is the story of her "coming to Jesus" and baptism. There is something poignant in the way she describes her worries that meeting God in such a public way might somehow mean that the more private, intimate moments of meeting would suddenly stop. I dare not excerpt it because the language is so powerful, so poetic, that it needs to be read as a whole, but here is a bit from another chapter--just to give you a taste: Country churches were the places where folk just went wild with religion--singing, shouting, praying, praising the lord all over the place. Those churches never had air conditioners, no it was as if the lord kept them from getting enough money just to sweat the sin out of them, just to make the overweight ladies faint, just so the ushers could give out those paper fans, the only beautiful printed images of black people we ever saw... There you go. Have a great day.

2003-05-26T07:26:00.000-07:00

The other day, while I was at the doctor with my kids, she mentioned that it takes eight repetitions to create a new habit. So if I post every day for eight days, it will become a part of my daily routine. Hey, why not? Today is Monday and it's Memorial Day. Isn't the internet strange? I just got a "Happy Memorial Day" e-card from my mom. Who sends Memorial Day cards?! Ah, the power of the net at its best. I was also happy to receive a gift of a hundred shares in Frankly, I'd Rather Not on Blogshares. The value of his blog is rising fast, so his generosity is appreciated. If only it were real money. I'm trying to get this blog (ABT) listed, but blogger seems to be having a glitch with its templates and so I can't add the required code. Never fear, intrepid investors, the problem will be solved ASAP. After yesterday's long soul search about fathers, I sat down with my most recent copy of Sacred Journey and read a wonderful interview with Marcus Borg. In the interview he says, "Tell me your image of God and I will tell you your theology." He then goes on to describe his first image of God: Let's start with my early image of God. I felt sinful, guilty, and earnest for repentance from a law-giving, finger-shaking judge--God. In my book, although I change the name to protect the family, I describe the pastor of the Swedish Lutheran church I attended in my youth. He was tall, straight, towered over us in the high pulpit, always dressed in black robes. There was ritualized confession followed by absolution. Naturally, the child's mind would assume this image for God." The interview got me thinking. How much of my image of God is still based on my own father? I've spent a lot of time trying to untangle that strange connection. Almost twenty years ago I tried to be a good fundamentalist Christian. It was always the images of the "Father-heart of God" that made me weep and wish to be a better person--a better child. As I grew, I gave up trying to please the Almighty, Omniscient Father-in-the-Sky and tried to reshape my image and sense of the sacred. In the process, I very much deconstructed and depersonalized God. God is not a father, not a male, not even a person to me. God is godness. God is "is-ness" to borrow from Thomas Keating. God simply is. The "I AM." God shows up most often in moments of connection--often unexpected connection--with the earth, with other people, with the mysteries of my own soul, with the Mystery that is in, around, across, beyond, and through it all. A rejection of my father? Perhaps. But also a way for me to grow a larger God image--one that isn't limited by my own pain or tainted by thousands of years of justification for the ugliest kinds of oppression. Whatever the truth is about God, it's so much larger than my little mind or even the collective minds of any one tradition could grasp or describe. Maybe that's the entire point. We don't really grow in our religious minds or our spirits until we become willing to admit that whatever God may be, it's something bigger than us, bigger than our minds or hearts can grasp, bigger than our particular tradition can hold, bigger even than our questions. The scary thing is...now that I'm a minister, maybe some little kid in the congregation thinks God is like me. That's just another reason to remind us all that God defies our images and our tiny little imaginings...

2003-05-25T06:50:00.000-07:00

I don't know why I'm awake so early. Maybe because I'm a minister and Sundays are a work day, so even though I have today off, my body won't let me sleep in. Or maybe it's because I woke up mulling over something exciting that may happen this week and I can't find the "off" switch in my mind. Whatever the reason I'm up and wide awake while the rest of the family happily snoozes. I started this morning by checking my brother's blog. He's the real geek in the family. I'm always disappointed when there's nothing new, though I can't say I blame him for taking a vacation. He deserves it. He just started another publication, uptime, that I've also been reading. He just added a new contributor, Dave Moore, which is kind of weird for me. I followed the link to Dave's blog and found myself reading about the life of someone who to me, has always been an enigma. This mystery man is my brother's dad. Growing up I knew that we had different fathers, but I never thought of "Dave Moore" as being any more real than Davy Crockett. He was the long-gone and not-much-missed ex-husband of my mother. When he was mentioned, it wasn't too favorable. But since he predated my existence, it felt like myth. Strange to read the blog of a mythical man... I've been following their reunion through my brother's emails, his blog, and a few phone conversations. I have to say that sometimes I'm a bit jealous. This mythical man, Dave, seems to have grown up and gotten his life together. My brother speaks of seeing for the first time how much of himself is somehow connected to Dave. They both love computers and are Linux geeks. They have similar gestures and habits. They have reclaimed their bond as family, as father and son. So what does all that have to do with me? Perhaps my mom just had bad taste in men, but my dad and I have been estranged for years. It's a constant source of pain, though that pain has become kind of like an old, mostly-healed injury. I hardly notice it anymore unless it gets strained. But when it gets strained, I get reminded of how long the pain's been there. It's not that I want to reconcile with my dad. Not anymore. At least, not as he is. It's been over ten years and for most of that time I've felt mostly relief. My father seems to hate who I am. He hates the parts of me that are most important to me--my compassionate religious liberalism, my beautiful multi-racial and interfaith family, my hard-fought and deeply satisfying identity as a gay man. I seem to have become the epitome of everything he hates and fears. I don't want to let that kind of hate into my life or my children's lives. And yet, seeing my brother return "home" to his father, I feel the shadow of sadness that is always there. This is, perhaps, the very definition of "bittersweet." I am happy for my brother, for his father, and for the possibility of healing. And while I prefer the cool shade of loss to the hot glare of hatred, there will always be a part of me that longs for that moment of reunion with my own dad--or at least, the mythical man I've always carried around inside me. The one that is proud of who I've become. The one that loves me as I am. The one who looks at me and says, "Well done."

2003-05-24T10:46:00.000-07:00

Don't you hate it when you don't live up to your own standards of behavior? I've been grumpy today, to say the least. I just had a go-round with my son. It wasn't terrible, just more intense than I intended. I guess my worries about him needed a release valve and he definitely got an earful. Luckily, I was clear all along that I worry because I love him. He's just entering adolescence and I am already tired of feeling like an enemy. A few months ago, he was still letting me read his emails to and from the girl he likes. Today, everything I said was interpreted as negatively as possible. Eventually, though I do think I got through to him a bit. I hope he heard my main message: Be the great person I know you are and worry more about making yourself proud than how you look to anyone else. Of course, then his sister got into it. She and the friend that is visiting were walking around the house making obnoxious noises, just to bug us. I told her to stop and she shot off some comment that started with, "I was just..." I interrupted with "...being annoying." When her brother laughed, she went off on him. And I went off on her. Sigh. What it comes down to is that I am tired of feeling like I live in a family where very little respect is shown. My partner and I have always said that in our home there is only one rule: "Respect." That means respecting one's self, one's family, one's friends, the earth, the sacred...etc. And lately I guess we've all had a hard time doing that. Three deep breaths, a dose of forgiveness, a genuine smile, an "I love you"-- for each of us, I think.

2003-05-23T14:07:00.000-07:00

MOCKINGBIRDS by Mary Oliver This morning two mockingbirds in the green field were spinning and tossing the white ribbons of their songs into the air. I had nothing better to do than listen. I mean this seriously. In Greece, a long time ago, an old couple opened their door to two strangers who were, it soon appeared, not men at all, but gods. It is my favorite story-- how the old couple had almost nothing to give but their willingness to be attentive-- but for this alone the gods loved them and blessed them-- when they rose out of their mortal bodies, like a million particles of water from a fountain, the light swept into all the corners of the cottage, and the old couple, shaken with understanding, bowed down-- but still they asked for nothing but the difficult life which they had already. And the gods smiled, as they vanished, clapping their great wings. Wherever it was I was supposed to be this morning-- whatever it was I said I would be doing-- I was standing at the edge of the field-- I was hurrying through my own soul, opening its dark doors-- I was leaning out; I was listening.

2003-05-23T12:53:00.000-07:00

Here's a picture for the visually curious. I'm the one on the right.

2003-05-23T10:54:00.000-07:00

It's been almost a month. I'm hoping that blogging becomes a habit or more accurately, a spiritual practice. (Yes, Christine, even a spiritual discipline!) I am, after all, a Unitarian Universalist minister. Sometimes that's what seems to get in the way of blogging. I often feel as though my job requires me to create so many words, sentences, articles, sermons, meditations, prayers...that by the time I sit down to blog, there are no words left. But then today, a colleague of mine (someone I only know through his presence on our minister's chat) asked if any other ministers were blogging. His new blog gave me another reason to continue. The conversation that is just beginning in Unitarian Universalism is one I hope to be a part of. After only a few years as a minister, I am already tired of avoiding "God talk." I am particularly frustrated whenever I try to articulate my passion for social justice. If I can't use religious or moral language, then I'm left with a lexicon that lacks both power and authority. At the same time, if you were to read Scott's blog and mine anticipating we'd agree on most things theological, I think you'd find your assumption was very, very wrong. I am not a Christian and not a conventional theist. I most often describe myself as a "spirtual humanist." What is sacred to me (God) resides within human beings and among them. I love the old story from Kabbalistic Judaism in which, when God tries to let a little of God's presence into the world, the container shatters and shards of Godness are scattered all over creation. In this way of looking at theology, it's our job to find and repair this shattered God. Most often I find the pieces in unexpected, graceful moments of real connection with another human being. Of course, yesterday, I was pretty sure I saw a piece of God in the yard...or was that simply a late blooming tulip? One can never be sure...

2003-05-07T07:25:00.000-07:00

Existence is beyond the power of words to define: Terms may be used but are none of them absolute. In the beginning of heaven and earth there were no words, Words come out of the womb of matter; And whether we dispassionately see to the core of life or passionately see the surface, the core and the surface are essentially the same, Words making them seem different only to express appearance. If name be needed, wonder names them both: from wonder into wonder existence opens. ~Lao-Tse

2003-04-07T08:01:00.000-07:00

I am beginning. Across Beyond Through.