Inhaling the sun

 

I live next-door to a yellow dwarf star with the official designation: “GV.” Stars in this classification have a surface temperature between 5,300 and 6,000 Kelvin, and fuse hydrogen into helium to generate their light. They live around 10 billion years.

 

 

Molecules collide in a welter as

a wild star’s whirling exhalations caress 

my home, this tiny planet.

 

Particles of light and heat 

stream into elision with my own warm body,

for I am a child of that star.

 

Stellar wind has traveled into others before me, 

finding secret doors and carrying life.

It will travel ahead into lives I will never see

and thus are we all bound, past and future.

 

We are golden vessels of the sun’s wise love.

Light overtakes us, re-creates and 

renews deep places in each beating heart—

we who are the remains of stars ourselves.  

 

Sun’s breath reminds us of living and then 

 

with each word, 

each prayer, 

each sigh,

 

leaves us to bless other lives. 

 Cutting Off My Arm

a white person confronts her racism

 

On April 26, 2003, Aron Ralston was canyoneering alone through Bluejohn Canyon in Utah. Somehow a boulder became dislodged while he was climbing down from it, crushing his right hand against the canyon wall.

 

I grew up in a white world. I was white. I didn’t know that Whiteness had me plucked and skewered to a marble wall. 

After days of being trapped, the dehydrated and delirious Ralston decided to amputate his arm in order to escape. After experimenting with tourniquets and exploratory cuts to his forearm, he realized that to free himself he would have to cut through the bones.

If asked of my life I would have said, “really peachy!” Peachy was finding a job, birthing a family, buying a house. Peachy was claiming creature comforts for my own and searching for an American Peachy dream. Peachy was reaching toward a meringue covered pie in the sky future built on the smooth lie of whiteness.  

Ralston carved his name, date of birth and presumed date of death into the sandstone canyon wall.  In a hallucination, he saw himself playing with a future child while missing part of his right arm and some part of him believed he might live.

Too slowly I found that there had always been a different world where white was only emptiness. Here mahogany, ebon
y, cinnamon and chocolate are warm earth and heart’s ease. I wake to find love slapping the scales from my eyes and Rumi yelling in my face to not go back to sleep. In this world light teaches me the long history of betrayal, slavery, genocide, murder. I fight to stay awake. No peaches—only reality with a strange part of me trapped and growing uglier by the minute.

After waking at dawn the following day Ralston discovered that his arm had begun to decompose. With surprising strength, he torqued his arm against the rock to break both bones. He then amputated his forearm with a dull two-inch knife and pliers for the tougher tendons. He took care to leave major arteries until last.

 

Each moment I stand in a red pill world holding my dull two inch knife out in front of me.  My whiteness has the sweet smell of gangrene and I know there is no future in holding onto this rock.  

After freeing himself, Ralston climbed out of the slot canyon in which he had been trapped, rappelled down a 65-foot sheer wall, then hiked out of the canyon, all one-handed. He was rescued approximately four hours after amputating his arm.

Lord let me be as strong as Aron Ralston.

Trees and Death

 

I want to talk about trees.  

 

Recently there have been a number of botanists who have discovered a remarkable network of communications existing between trees. 

·     The trees use a fungal, underground network to discuss diseases, carbon loads, insect infestations, and water resources.  There is usually one larger, older tree in each grove or forest that coordinates the information and sends out calls for assistance.  With their deep roots they draw up water and make it available to shallow-rooted seedlings. They help neighboring trees by sending them nutrients, and when the neighbors are struggling, mother trees detect their distress signals and increase the flow of nutrients accordingly.

 

·     These trees have their roots fixed very firmly in service to the forest.  They spend their lives in this invisible communications about the minute to minute needs of those around them.  They network.  They assist saplings.  And when they die they dump their entire store of carbon into the soil for others to use.

 

But there is another side of the tree, is there not?

Each leaf of each tree is facing the sun, absorbing its rays, transforming light into nutrition.  While the constant communications and struggle to survive is happening below ground, the trees are turned to the sun, taking in the rays and converting them to sap.  The leaves absorb the rays of the sun, winding light and heat into their very being. 

 

And when a tree does die, and that light and heat unwind back into the world it’s life doesn’t end there.  Millions of insects and bacteria and fungi use every last scrap of that tree as home or nutrition.  WE use that tree to build our own homes.  Other trees are able to utilize the space and the old root systems.  The life of each tree continues on into other kingdoms: the animal and the human.  

 

We contain oxygen produced by trees.  We have been nourished by fruits and nuts from trees.  We have enjoyed the shade of trees as they turned sunlight into fruits and nuts and oxygen.  We write our poetry and songs on the corpses of trees.  They warm us in winter.  

 

Trees don’t die.  They were custodians of the light while they were alive and they helped each other during their lives.  They live on in other kingdoms of God after they die.  In that way, each molecule of a tree moves on into more light, more service.

 

What can we learn from trees about dying?

 

Here is part of a quote from Abdu’l-Baha—

Therefore total annihilation is an impossibility, and existence can never become non-existence. This would be equivalent to saying that light can become darkness, which is manifestly untrue and impossible. As existence can never become non-existence, there is no death for man; nay, rather, man is everlasting and ever-living.

 

In this same quote, he says, 

The conception of annihilation is a factor in human degradation, a cause of human debasement and lowliness, a source of human fear and abjection. It has been conducive to the dispersion and weakening of human thought whereas the realization of existence and continuity has upraised man to sublimity of ideals, established the foundations of human progress and stimulated the development of heavenly virtues; therefore it behoves man to abandon thoughts of non-existence and death which are absolutely imaginary and see himself ever living, everlasting in the divine purpose of his creation. He must turn away from ideas which degrade the human soul, so that day by day and hour by hour he may advance upward and higher to spiritual perception of the continuity of the human reality. If he dwells upon the thought of non-existence he will become utterly incompetent; with weakened will-power his ambition for progress will be lessened and the acquisition of human virtues will cease. 

 

Perhaps we would do well to be like the trees.  The trees never stop their work, not for a minute.  They send those roots out looking for water, they communicate through the fungal networks, they cooperate with other trees to manage nutrients.  And what do they all do, all the time?  They turn toward the sun. 

 

There are four things that Baha’is are asked to do, and they all help us get ready for what is called death. 

We are asked: 

To PRAY.

To Meditate everyday

To Study God’s word

And finally to Put into Action what we have learned through prayer, meditation and study so we can be of service to the world of humanity.

 

“the realization of existence and continuity has upraised man to sublimity of ideals, established the foundations of human progress and stimulated the development of heavenly virtues;”

 

If we think about the tree metaphor, we are here to support and nurture each other.  Abdu’l Baha said, “What are the fruits of the human world? They are the spiritual attributes which appear in man. If man is bereft of those attributes, he is like a fruitless tree”

 

But we have to keep that turning up toward the light.  WE have to be custodians of the light.  

 

Each molecule in existence moves through all of the kingdoms of existence at one time or another.  Mineral, vegetable, animal, human.  But this world is just a matrix, or womb, for our souls, which continue to progress beyond this physical plane of existence.  Here we learn how to turn to the light.  Everything is here to teach us perfectly. Abdu’l-Baha calls it our pilgrimage through the human world.  The whole of creation is a school for our education.  The manifestations of God and all of the religions of God are here to teach us how to turn to the light, how to serve our fellow humans, how to get ready for the life to come.

“One whose aspiration is lofty and who has developed self-reliance will not be content with a mere animal existence. He will seek the divine Kingdom; he will long to be in heaven although he still walks the earth in his material body, and though his outer visage be physical, his face of inner reflection will become spiritual and heavenly.”

Another thing Baha’is are asked to do is to bring ourselves to account each day.  Were we faithful to our prayers?  Were we of service to the world of humanity?  Did we gossip a little and not realize it?  Were we unkind to the shop person who was not knowledgeable about our needs?  We reflect on our life each day, pray about these things and ask for help in doing better.  We figure out ways to curb bad habits and instill new, better habits.  Just like looking at our bank account we look at our souls and see how we can make tomorrow better than today.  

 

It is very hard to get to the end of your life and THEN wonder what it was all about.  At the end of life most people are really tired.  They sleep a lot.  I need to say here that dying is work, just like being born is work.  Letting go of things you’ve been doing for your whole life is hard.  How do I stop breathing?  How does my heart stop?  These things happen automatically but the process isn’t easy.  And during this time people really don’t want to interact much with other people.  They are reflecting on their lives and trying to make sense of it but if they don’t have the habit of reflection it can be very disturbing and even painful.  

 

If we have been reflecting on our lives for our whole life then this process comes more easily.  There is more trust in the process.  

 

How do we bring ourselves to account?  Here are some practical actions.

 

1.    Have a will.  Baha’is are told that we must have a Will and testament, but it’s a hard thing to get started.  “I don’t have anything to pass on” is the most frequent thing I hear, but really, there may be an item or two, and your bank account will need sorting, and you want someone to take charge of your wishes after death.  And in your Testament you can tell people what kept you going through your own life, giving your loved ones a final lesson.  

 

2.    Have an advance directive.  (not an advanced directive.)  Who do you want making medical decisions for you if you are unconscious and can’t talk?  What instructions to you have for that person?  Do you want a feeding tube if you can’t eat?  Do you want CPR if your heart stops or a ventilator if you can’t breathe?  Medicine is much more complicated than it used to be and it is worthwhile spending a little time thinking about the kinds of diseases you might have as you get older, and what your wishes might be.  Appoint a Medical Power of Attorney.  This person can make medical decisions for you IF YOU ARE UNABLE TO MAKE THOSE DECISIONS.  

 

3.   Appoint a Durable Power of Attorney to take care of business matters and sign checks when you are unable.

 

4.   Put your papers in order and put them in a safe place so that someone can find them and make sense of them.  

 

5.   Think about funeral plans.  Children will want to follow their parent’s wishes but they need to know what those wishes are.  Baha’is have very specific burial requirements and can have their shroud and ring ready. Anyone can plan their best party and leave behind thoughts about a memorial service.  What music?  What readings?  You can choose and make things easier for those left behind. 

 

6.   For Baha’is we can think about Huquq’u’llah.  This is a practical way to plan ahead that will attract blessings to us and our families.

 

 

Above and beyond all of these things, things which are like the roots of trees taking care of business, always have your heart turned upward toward the light. Pray, in whatever way you know how.  Sit calmly with your love and your questions as you meditate.  Study the Word of God each day.            And then act:  

Mother’s day, 2018

To my siblings,

Dear loved ones,

A week before Dad died, he called me into his room.  He was having a hard time getting words out, but I could tell there was something he needed to say to me.  I knelt down on the shag carpet in that little yellow room, next to his narrow bed and held his hand.  He was crying.  

With a lot of false starts and repeated words, he told me that when I was very little he had done some very bad things to me.  “Messed with you” were his words.  He was sorry. So sorry.  Would I forgive him?

Yes Dad, I said.  I forgive you.  there was little more conversation after that.  I kissed his forehead, he patted my hand and went to sleep for a while, exhausted from this difficult work that not many have the strength to undertake.  He died just days later. Years later I’m still processing that conversation.  

Here are the lessons I’ve taken so far.  I’m sure I’ll be learning from it for the rest of my life.

1.    Forgiveness is a mysterious process and this moment really seared it into my consciousness. He asked for my forgiveness.  I gave it.  It took two of us.  He wasn’t asking for absolution of sin (that belongs to God alone) but for the bond between the two of us to remain strong even in the face of hurt.  

2.    I didn’t remember the incident.  I actually remember (have always remembered) a conversation with Mom about it—I had to have been 3-4 years old because I remember where I was and how small I was. Even so, there are things in my adult life that are probably a result of that incident, up to and possibly including my divorce.  Pebbles in the water creating ripples and all that.  

3.    It’s crucial that I forgive when asked.  Now, when I have hurt someone’s feelings, or have done something in an unfeeling/unthinking way I always specifically ask for forgiveness.  I don’t say “Sorry” anymore.  I want the process to be a two-way street.  Not that they have to grant forgiveness—but I always have to ask for it.

4.    There is never a time when my being “right” trumps someone else’s heart.  When I’m dead and thrown into my hole in the ground, my being “right” won’t amount to a hill of beans.  I would have been “right” to march out of the house and never gone back when Dad told me his story.  Sometimes we hurt hearts and justify it by saying, “We were right.”  It is never right to hurt a heart.  We make mistakes, we admit our mistakes, we live with the consequences.  We are human. Asking for forgiveness says, “I hurt you.  Are we still connected?” Forgiveness says, “You hurt me AND our hearts are always connected with love.” 

That’s my story to this point.  As we do, I learn more with reflection and hope to grow wiser with each passing day. I am bound to each one of you with indissoluble bonds that the changes and chances of the world cannot break.  

loving you a bushel and a peck and more.  

Mothers of Mercy

kecharitomene

Carven, gilded, broken, winsome,

         sinless, frowning, tearful, smiling,

Held by angels, glued to dashboards,

lissome, frozen—

plastic, stone—

         flesh or gold.

Many mothers.

         

We walk in  museums of mothers.

         We live through millennia of mothers

all holding this one child,

         this every child,

this child of a million mothers.

These mothers transubstantiating one cell 

         into someone ready to redeem the manifest—

         into something ready to reclaim the hidden.

Sweet babe aborning with hosannas,

and stars and rosy light and hope,

         torn from its tomb,

landing in this hellish, muck-filled stable of a world.

This amazing image:

Mary—all of us—man and woman alike—all of history,

         laboring to birth one child.

Transforming almost nothing

into Salvation.  

She woke one day to the realization 

that everything had been stolen for her 

from other people.

This worried her greatly. 

“It’s just the way of it,” said her parents. 

“Someone stole from us, 

we stole all of this, 

and it will be stolen again in the future.”

"I don't believe it," she said.

“Oh yes,” said her many elders.  

“We were enslaved, 

we enslaved others, 

and someday we shall be slaves again.”

They spoke with the conviction of history and sorrow, 

but in her body she heard something else:

She heard singing in a language she struggled to understand.

She woke one day to the realization 

that she had always heard the song

It told her that the air pouring into her 

and flowing out from her 

had been in the hearts and minds of another people; 

a people who sang with this very air in their lungs.

She heard that the food she ate had grown in an earth 

holding the sacred remains of another people, 

and they were still singing.

“It is all sacred,” said the song.

“We are related to all things,” said the song.

She woke again, and made haste to leave so much behind

—so much of it unnecessary

           —so much of it drowning out the song.

She hastened to let go—

                                 To cleanse—

                                      To quiet—

To stand with both feet

on the sacred, singing soil,

Adding her own breath to the song.

Cave Sedem!!!!!

Cave Sedem!

Beware the deadly Sitting habit,

Or, if you sit, be like the rabbit,

Who keepeth ever on the jump

By springs concealed beneath his rump.

A little ginger ‘neath the tail

Will oft for lack of brains avail;

Eschew the dull and slothful seat,

And move about with willing feet.

Man was not made to sit a-trance

And press, and press, and press his pants;

But rather, with an open mind,

To circulate among his kind.

And so my child, avoid the snare

Which lurks within a cushioned chair;

To run like hell, it has been found,

Both feet must be upon ground.

Theodore F. McManus (1800 something until he died.  )

(probably of too much exercise.)