i am of apollo

I have grown weary and worn and discouraged and even hurt by the dividing that happens in this "kingdom of God".  Wheat or tares, sheep or goats... Driscoll or Bell...  in or out... weren't we told by Jesus that was a job for the angels???

I am far from the place I began my journey sitting with my head covered, silent in that little Bible Chapel on Walworth Street in Lake Geneva, Wisconsin.

I have felt the sorting.  The dividing, the parsing into clubs that so many need to feel safe. I have been made to feel many times that I have stepped off that straight and narrow path I was raised on... how tragic it is that for me personally this path I tread now has lead me deeper and farther into my own heart and the heart of God than I have ever had before.

I found at a time, when everything tasted like dust, words and thoughts that very few in the kingdom would dare to utter.  They were life to me.  A clarion call through the fog that my spiritual life had become.  Creativity and soul and poetry and art were supposed to be a part of this journey, not a trivial waste of time or effort?!?!  I found those words in the mouth of a boy named Rob Bell... he was a punk kid at a conference I attended, in a little room at a big hotel, late at night while rock concerts were going on in the big room.  He had made a movie, it was like 6 minutes long... and nobody knew who he was.  He was humble, quirky and deep.  I liked him instantly.  There were only about two dozen of us in the room.  He talked about his idea to tell the truth, but tell it slant (not his words, but mine...errr. well Emily's)  And I have followed him since.

I never really had a pastor before that time, mostly they were my husbands bosses, or back in the old days pastors were not "biblical"... so Rob Bell became a pastor to me, far away, words listened to through my computer, films watched on dvd... words read on pages of quirky weird postmodern books, but they fed a part of my soul that had been starved since I was a child.  Life became much more full, I became much less morose and God incarnated within me and gave birth to a soul that I never dreamed could be possible.

Is this the path everyone should be walking? I don't think so, but for me I honestly can say it changed everything.  It may have even saved my life.  I have felt great shame for my emerging soul.  I have kept much of my writing and passion to myself because of that severe judgement and wrath sent upon the heads of those who stuck their necks out.  I have lost friends, family and relationships because of my journey.

My word for 2012 is BRAVE.  As a part of embracing that word I have decided that I'm going to let the chips fall where they may.  I'm tired of feeling ashamed for something that brings me great joy and life - and I'm done hiding my self, silencing my voice and folding myself into tiny little pieces to keep others mollified.  I will not argue. I will not debate. But I will not be silent any more.  More light than heat is what I long for.  I'm weary of that age old division, that snide looking down the nose of those who hold their faith in exclusive clubs.  I don't belong, I never have, but I have found a place where I have community, and deep conversation and inspiration and real life.  I am of Paul... I am of Apollo... I am finished.  I am beginning.

This morning I was pushed by the words I read, again, by Rob Bell in his farewell to his church, many of them have had to sit with the same judgement and disdain that I have felt - his response and encouragement to them took my breath away. 

"i write this to you because of how many of you have been
challenged about your participation in the life of this
church, often with the accusation: but what do they believe
over there at mars hill?
as if belief, getting the words right, is the highest form of
faith. Jesus came to give us life. a living, breathing, throbbing,
pulsating blow your hair back tingle your spine roll the
windows down and drive fast experience of God right
here, right now.
word taking on flesh and blood.
and so you've found yourself defending and explaining
and trying to find the words for your experience that is
fundamentally about a reality that is beyond and more than
words.
so when you find yourselves tied up in knots, having
long discussions about who believes what, a bit like
dogs doing that sniff circle when they meet on the sidewalk,
do this:
take out a cup
and some bread
and put it in the middle of the table,
and say a prayer and examine yourselves
and then make sure everybody's rent is paid and there's
food in their fridge and clothes on their backs
and then invite everybody to say
'yes' to the resurrected Christ with whatever 'yes' they
can muster in the moment and then you take that bread
and you dip it in that cup in the ancient/future hope and
trust that there is a new creation bursting forth right here
right now and
then together taste that new life and liberation and
forgiveness and as you look those people in the eyes gathered around that table from all walks of life and you see the new
humanity, sinners saved by grace, beggars who have
found bread showing the others beggars where they found it
remind yourselves that
this
is
what
you
believe.
remember, the movement is word to flesh.
beware of those who will take the flesh and want to turn it
back into words"

Beware of those who will take the flesh and want to turn it back into words...

I welcome you to break bread with me - to find the common in and amongst our uncommon ways.  I bless you on your path, and know that mine is mine alone - and I walk with those limping, misfit, rag tag bunch of ragamuffins I adore.

You can find the complete farewell here:  Rob Bell's Parting Epistle to Mars Hill:  Grace + Peace

Fair Trade Christmas Gift Links

A friend posted a plea for help in finding fair trade Christmas gifts as their family gift exchange requirement was that all gifts be fair trade.  It's a great idea and I offered to help with the links that I have culled over the years - and instead of posting 15 different facebook updates I thought I'd put them all here so that she and anyone else looking can have this reference.  I will be happy to update the list if you leave me links in the comments with your favorite products and sites.  These are in no particular order and I am not affiliated or associate or benefiting from any of these links:

• Saints Coffee - fair trade coffee - support Orphan work done by Tom Davis and hopechest.org
• Bead for Life - jewelery and beads to diy your own jewelery made in Uganda
• Sole Rebels Footwear - shoes, slippers and boots - all hand made, sustainable and fair trade, made in Ethiopia
• Krochet Kids International - hats, hoodies - one of my favorites - college boys make good - must just go and look around the site
• Equal Exchange - fair trade coffee, tea, chocolate, nuts
• Pants to Poverty - undies for men, women & kids (British term PANTS means bad or rubbish and underwear -so the pun is intended)
• 10,000 Villages - Stores, online and traveling markets - tons of beautiful products from all over the world - a store in Columbiana, Ohio in Das Dutch Haus mall (friend lives close by)
• Trade as One - like 10,000 Villages -nice Christmas items
• 31bits - Fair Trade Jewelery - really beautiful pieces
• A Trade for Trade - fabric, stamps (for Mom Laryssa!) and recycled Sari linens - so beautiful
• Green Heart Shop - lots of products - toys are cute
• Little Footprints Toys - sweet toys
• One Mango Tree - clothing, accessories, jewelery 
• Natural Candy Store - some fair trade candy and lots of more organic non-additive candies
• Modern Homesteader Green Gift List  - list of some fair trade, but lots of sustainable, green items and products

These are not necessarily "fair trade gifts" - but support great work on the ground in locations where these NGO's are located:

• Gifts of Compassion  - Compassion International
• World Vision Christmas - World Vision
• Oxfam Unwrapped - Oxfam International

Hope that helps - by no means exhaustive - but will give you a good start :) (again, will gladly add any links to other fair trade items left in the comments)

Wonderstruck

I love Brian Selznick's original book The Invention of Hugo Cabret so much and cannot wait for the movie this Christmas - his second work Wonderstruck just released yesterday and I am excited to get my little hands on it.  Selznick not only authors the works, but uses the most detailed pencil sketches.

This book weaves two stories, one told in text, one told in illustrations together until they become one.  I cannot wait to read it.  Here is the beautiful teaser Scholastic put together for his new work.  Enjoy!

Don't miss the great article in Brain Pickings - Wonderstruck: Remarkable New Work from Brian Selznick

September resolutions

It seems to me that January resolutions are about will; September resolutions are about authentic wants.... The beauty of autumnal resolutions is that no one else knows we're making them. Autumnal resolutions don't require horns, confetti and champagne. September resolutions ask only that we open to positive change.

Source: Sarah Ban Breathnach, Simple Abundance via herondance.org

Real

"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but really loves you, then you become Real."

"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.

"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real, you don't mind being hurt."

"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?"

"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't often happen to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out, and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real, you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."

Source: The Velveteen Rabbit

The Fantastic Flying Books of Mr. Morris Lessmore

A small gift of a film landed in my lap today. I found myself feeling melancholy about the loss of my fall position as librarian and caretaker of the stories at the elementary school I have been working at for the past couple of years. Most of the time I don't dwell on it, but with the dreary rain today and the smell of fall in the air already my heart began to break again for the loss of those small wee faces upturned to hear me read to them my favorite stories and to help them find their own.

I can't even re-create the steps that brought me to Moonbot Studios website for morrislessmore.com but I was instantly enchanted. I poked through the site, watched all of the vimeos available and was hooked enough to lay down real money to download the short award winning film. It is stunning and heartfelt. Have not been so moved by film since the first 30 minutes of Pixar's Up.

It begins in New Orleans and tells the story of the hurricane stealing everyones stories. Miraculously no words are spoken but hope is restored for this community as Morris finds his own story again. Watch for the little red head at the end of the film... she too was a keeper of stories, even for a short time.

Please make sure to click through this link to watch a tiny preview - it won't let me embed it here - you won't regret it, promise.

The Fantastic Flying Books of Mr. Morris Lessmore

Humpback whale says thank you to the people who saved her

This is so moving - an incredible metaphor for freedom - the joy with which she explodes from the water afterward is magical.

Don't turn your back on the possibility

To embrace one's brokenness, whatever it looks like, whatever has caused it, carries within it the possibility that one might come to embrace one's healing, and then one might come to the next step: to embrace another and their brokenness and their possibility for being healed. To avoid one's brokenness is to turn one's back on the possibility that the Healer might be at work here, perhaps for you, perhaps for another.

Source: Robert Benson, Living Prayer

inward/outward

Soul Gardens

Here's the link to the talk I gave last week at church - I was really happy with the way it all came together:

Soul Gardens

The spaces in between

What makes a fire burn
is space between the logs,
a breathing space.
Too much of a good thing,
too many logs
packed in too tight
can douse the flames
almost as surely
as a pail of water would.

So building fires
requires attention
to the spaces in between,
as much as to the wood.

When we are able to build
open spaces
in the same way
we have learned
to pile on the logs,
then we can come to see how
it is fuel, and absence of the fuel
together, that make fire possible.

We only need to lay a log
lightly from time to time.
A fire
grows
simply because the space is there,
with openings
in which the flame
that knows just how it wants to burn
can find its way.

Judy Brown
Source: Teaching With Fire
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Don't even know where to start

I have been such a negligent blogger as of late - mostly just putting quotes in place so that I can reference them at a future time...  on the bright side my life outside of the internet is lovely.  We played host to University students as they prepared for their Europe term, they are traveling now and our home is much quieter and we miss them dearly.

On the sculpture front we realized in April that the idealism of fall - doing a major outdoor project before May - was naive at best.  We informed the head of the competition that we would still be very interested in participating, but we would be unable to make the end of May deadline as the weather has just not been our friend this year.  I guess growing up in Southern Wisconsin & Ontario gave us a false sense of what spring could be - and this spring here in New Brunswick has been non-existent.  So glad we made that call, and that we have been invited to participate in next years competition - so we will be using the summer months (if we ever really get a summer) to create the sculpture and enter in next years competition.  Good news all around.

I am heading to a 3 day silent retreat tomorrow and really looking forward to it.  It is sponsored by my spiritual director and while I am a bit anxious the idea of silence and solitude, harvesting my journals and being creative without words will be special, maybe even sacred.

We are making good progress on our yard and hope to have the stone patio in place in a few weeks and then we can begin to focus on making the outdoor brick oven we hope to have in place by the end of summer.  So hard to accomplish any of this with all of the yucky weather we've had, but when you look at the flooding, tornadoes and wild fires others are dealing with I guess grey, rainy days should be the least of our worries.

Hope this finds you all well, miss the heydays of blogging we used to have.  But I guess that season helped us all get to where we are now.  Doing a lot of writing off line now...  maybe one day I'll be back to a regular blog, until then I guess it will just be random updates and interactions.  Take care!

Note to self

…gradually you come under the right influences, picking and choosing, and being selective, and then maybe your voice is the combination of 6 or 8 other voices that you have managed to blend in such a way that nobody can recognize your sources. You can learn intimacy from Whitman, you can learn the dash from Emily Dickinson…you can pick a little bit from every writer and you combine them. This allows you to be authentic. That’s one of the paradoxes of the writing life: that the way to originality is through imitation.
 

— Billy Collins, at the White House’s Poetry Workshop

Watch the broadcast Heidi!!!

again from Austin in Austin

Ah - this is so ME!

PHENOMENON: When you read more than you speak, often you don’t pronounce the words properly in your mind when you read. So what you end up with is a new 2 second lag before you figure out how to say certain non phonetic words you lazily read incorrectly all of the time.

— Kelly Oxford (Yes.)

 

Austin (again)

Hoarding ashes

“The impulse to keep to yourself what you have learned is not only shameful, it is destructive. Anything you do not give freely and abundantly becomes lost to you. You open your safe and find ashes.”

- Annie Dillard, The Writing Life

via Austin Kleon

Do not despise the here and now...

"In order to arrive there,
To arrive where you are, to get from where you are not,
You must go by a way wherein there is no ecstasy.
In order to arrive at what you do not know
You must go by a way which is the way of ignorance.
In order to possess what you do not possess
You must go by the way of dispossession.
In order to arrive at what you are not
You must go through the way in which you are not.
And what you do not know is the only thing you know
And what you own is what you do not own
And where you are is where you are not."

- T.S. Eliot, a small sliver from his poem "East Coker"

thank you Erin.

Do Not Be Ashamed - Wendell Berry

You will be walking some night
in the comfortable dark of your yard
and suddenly a great light will shine round about you,
and behind you will be a wall you never saw before.
It will be clear to you suddenly that you were about to escape,
and that you are guilty:
you misread the complex instructions,
you are not a member,
you lost your card or never had one.
And you will know that they have been there all along,
their eyes on your letters and books,
their hands in your pockets,
their ears wired to your bed.
Though you have done nothing shameful,
they will want you to be ashamed.
They will want you to kneel and weep
and say you should have been like them.
And once you say you are ashamed,
reading the page they hold out to you,
then such light as you have made in your history will leave you.
They will no longer need to pursue you.
You will pursue them, begging forgiveness.
They will not forgive you.
There is no power against them.
It is only candor that is aloof from them,
only an inward clarity, unashamed, that they cannot reach.
Be ready.
When their light has picked you out
and their questions are asked,
say to them: "I am not ashamed."
A sure horizon will come around you.
The heron will begin his evening flight from the hilltop.

but I say hello....

“Goodbyes always make my throat hurt…I need more hellos.”

- Charlie Brown

A Purification

At the start of spring I open a trench
in the ground. I put into it
the winter's accumulation of paper,
pages I do not want to read
again, useless words, fragments,
errors. And I put into it
the contents of the outhouse:
light of the sun, growth of the ground,
finished with one of their journeys.
To the sky, to the wind, then,
and to the faithful trees, I confess
my sins:that I have not been happy
enough, considering my good luck;
have listened to too much noise;
have been inattentive to wonders;
have lusted after praise.
And then upon the gathered refuse
of mind and body, I close the trench,
folding shut again the dark,
the deathless earth. Beneath that seal
the old escapes into the new.

Source: Wendell Berry, Teaching With Fire

Add your thoughts at inward/outward

A profound mystery

The leavening of yeast must have seemed to ancient men a profound mystery, and yet something on which they could always depend. Just so does the supernatural enter our natural life, working in the hiddenness, forcing the new life into every corner and making the dough expand.

If the dough were endowed with consciousness, it would not feel very comfortable while the yeast was working. Nor, as a rule, does our human nature feel very comfortable under the transforming action of God, steadily turning one kind of love into another kind of love--desire into charity, clutch into generosity, Eros into Agape.

Creation is change, and change is often painful and mysterious to us. Spiritual creation means a series of changes, which at last produce a Holiness, God's aim for us.

Source: Evelyn Underhill, The School of Charity

Read more and add your thoughts at inward/outward

Dry Ground Planting: Before Easter

Harold R. Wilkins

For Karis - Happy Birthday my friend!

~I~
When I was little
we stepped down hard
on our dark iron spades
previously sharpened by hand
with whetstone and well water
til the shovels’ edges
shined a silver hem all around
their cutting aprons...

all in order to turn the dry person,
I mean, the dry earth
over for the new outlook to be
forced into the dead ground
of the mind and heart,
I mean, the seed, of course,
the seed to be forced
into the winter weary ground...
and all this
in the time before Easter...

far down in the bodies of humans,
the river Esperanza, Hope
is buried in the unconscious,
but has kept the human heart alive
even through deadened life, I mean
of course, the land, I meant
the dry land of the Midwest contained
this secret miracle
that the spade brought to light...
Though a mile away, the St. Joe river
had kept the earth deep down
moist, a little mucky even,
and ready to clasp
the seed just right
til it could break through to the Light.

~II~
Sometimes, hitting a stretch
of fine, dry topsoil
our grandmothers,
in a display of strength
enough for nine men
and nine horses,
would throw shovelfulls
of the black dust up
into the air,
grab our little hands,
and we would rush forward...
eyes clamped closed and
holding our breath...
we would rush
through the cloud of
airborn earth,
coughing after,
but feeling holy

And our grandmothers
over so many years,
telling these ways of
living more
and freshly every time,
would aver that no matter
what week it fell
or falls upon in this year,
This opening of the earth
and turning it over
from its dry side
to its wet side
was our Ash Wednesday
the original sacramental...

that is...
the original remembering
of the battering
the New Child of Light
both receives and takes,
and that this Child of Light,
regardless of the 40 days
of suffering the hail of fists
or like our fields, the hail
of ice; the starvation of
no water but gall given,
or like our fields,
the gasping for lack of water...
that the Holy One, even if in
retreat, like our fields
in fallow or draught,
seeming with green song dead,
will nonetheless Live
again, come back to life, again,
no matter what.

~III~
Thus in all these years
when I am as old now
as my grandmothers were
back then, and
my silver lipped spade
has become my pen,
and the earth that has
wintered so hard in the field,
is now my body and my mind,
my heart and spirit,
my soul ...

and my thoughts
‘that once were’--
are the dry dust now.
And the thoughts
raining into me now,
sucking for ‘new life’-
are the wet side of the earth,
now cut into me,
spaded down deep in me,
hefted and turned upward
with great effort, slammed
down hard
to break the clods
open.

This spading will go on,
cutting, hefting, slamming
and breaking
as all are readied to receive
the hand-chosen seeds
kept safe over winter.

When the flower is greater
than the weather, we will
be done for now.

Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estes