Celtic Advent: Watching the World Stand By

 As you've probably noticed, I'm a couple of days behind.  I may catch up, if the spirit moves me to write another post later today. And two tomorrow... One of the things about this pandemic is that I've lost what sense of time and place I had.  And I didn't have much to begin with. Sometimes I think I'm eight years old. Another time I'll wake up and I'm 20.  With the pandemic, I'm 30 something again.  I'm home with my (grand)kids, focusing on their needs, worrying about their growth.  My children are grown now, but I don't always remember that.  They are no longer my business, except to say "It's wonderful to see you. Thank you for your help. Thank you for being wonderful people."

Part of this Advent journey is birthing myself. Again.  That's going to involve watching the world as it moves very slowly around me.  Watching myself, going inside to the dark, dripping, scary places. Watching my fears and where they came from.  Observing the development of my prejudices. Examining the arcana around my inner round table.  Who talks the most? Who is silent? Who has forgotten how to speak?

Frankly, this feels a little forced, but steps... baby steps.  And I'm fairly comfortable watching. It's the not judging yet that is going to trip me up.

 

Celtic Advent: slipping into the season

Celtic Advent begins on the evening of November 15.  Like Lent, it 40 days.  Like Lent, it is a time of waiting. Like Lent, it is a time of preparing for a great change.

In my church, Advent is four weeks and is the color blue.  Sacre bleu, the sacred blue of Mary as she grows and prepares.  Don't tell them that. Some will love it and some will not.  Ahh family.

This year has been a year of upheaval, waiting, worrying, resting, hoping, despairing.

Covid-19 has hit near me, but not that close.  It is getting closer. I know we won't be untouched.  I don't live in fear. I live in caution and respect, as I do with the ocean or the mountains.  Or God.

The election has given me a result that I like and I know the struggle to reclaim the nation has just begun.  It's not just the anger on both sides. It's the weeding of the Dandelions who have become entangled in our national identity since the beginning.  The question of who are "the people" and who government will serve.  What is economic justice? What is environmental justice? What is racial justice? What is justice for people of all genders and sexual preferences? Again, "Who are the People?" "Who is my neighbor?"

My health is not super. I think I'm sicker than I feel or seem, and now I'm beginning to feel a little sicker. I would like to walk off my pain and exhaustion. I'd like to just eat well and do yoga and dance to fun music and feel better.  And maybe I will, after a small and exciting operation that is not the panacea I want but much better than not doing anything.

And here I am, taking my journey through Advent.  Bitching like I did in my first trimesters of my pregnancies. 

Step one: reopen Canva. Make pretty pictures.  Create things.

Step two: reopen this blog, which is old and comfortable and not terribly fancy.

Step three: Read Christ Walk: a 40 day spiritual fitness program by Anna Fitch Courie. I'm using a few Celtic Advent books for Devotionals.  Celtic Advent by David Cole. Prepare the Way: Celtic Prayers for the Season of Light, by Ray Simpson. Thin Places Everywhere by Bruce Epperly. Living into God's Dream: Dismantling Racism in America by Catherine Meeks.  The journey is inside and out.

Step four: walk as far as I can.  Which may be to the end of our urban driveway and may be around the block. It may end up being a mile at the Congaree National Monument (the swamp) with a camp chair so I can rest.  

I am embarrassed to admit how low I am right now. My mother did not believe in God or sin, but there was definitely wrongness in illness or weakness.  That is a long story that includes a lot of women in my family and their views of their places in the world.  Maybe I'll spend some time there in addition to the places where she built a better world for all of us.

As Lao Tzu said, the journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.  And Rumi said, as you start to walk on the way, the way appears. 

Here we go.
 

Blogblast for Peace 2020: Cosmic Latte

 

Cosmic Latte.  It is the color of the universe. Someone studies all of the colors of stars and supernovas and bits of in between and discovered that the color of the universe is Cosmic Latte.

It's a light color, something you might call ecru or cream.  Some people see a bluish tinge. Some see yellow or brown or green.  I see the color I grew up with. The color my mother painted almost every room in our house.  Cosmic Latte.

And so the oneness was reflected back at us as children.  Without knowing why or what, our parents reflected oneness, unity, compassion for self and others back to us and to everyone who knew them.

They reflected it in the wide variety of oddballs, creatives, scoundrels, and angels who sat in our house talking about the universe.  The universe in the local county council election.  The universe in a budget for a regional university campus. The universe in the stories that may or may not have happened, but were always true. The laughter and the yelling and the tears.

We struggled against it.  I painted my room a darker latte -- more coffee, less latte, and although Mom was appalled, she let me.  We might have wished for parents who cared only about us and not about the world.  Parents who didn't see the other side of our battles. That was really annoying. But we got parents who saw the oneness.

We saw the universe too, eventually.  When I was in college the first time, I realized that major or hometown or political view were not what made a person "one of mine." It was a spark I saw, across a debate stage, in a dark bar, in a crowded classroom. We gathered our own motley crew of people like us. We still had others, though. We didn't always see the spark.

In these times of division, it feels as if  chaos demon has spread a reddish haze of anger and fear.  In that haze, it is harder to see the spark unless it is very close.  Together in a meeting. In the classroom.  In the same office.  It's hard to see the spark in across the debate stage or lines of demarcation in social media. Duality is the king for the day.  

Yet duality is not the stuff of our universe. It is not the stuff of our faiths.  This is what we learn: Love others as God loves you. Love your neighbor as yourself. Allah has made you to know each other and not to despise each other. Everything that exists, seen and unseen, is connected. I am he as you are he, as you are me and we are all together ... I am the walrus.

It is our responsibility to clear our haze and find the sparks in other people.  To find compassion. If we have social media instead of face to face conversations, let's find a way to see the spark.  It's hard. This is our path to peace. 

If you tell me it can't be done, I'll block you. Kidding, maybe. I'm too good at troll hunting.  I'm too good at sarcasm. It's my thing.  My Individuation. What makes me special. So, yeah, I have to give that up gently. I want to return to the reflection of the oneness.  It's my road. It's your road. All roads lead to ...

The cosmic latte.