Mothers and Peace

Julia Ward Howe was the founder of our Mother's Day celebration. In 1870, a Woman's Day of Peace was observed. Today we have commercialized this day and have forgotten the original meaning. The following is the proclamation that explains the original goal for this day. Happy Mother's Day to all of you beautiful, powerful women out there, whether you are a mother biologically or spiritually or both.

Arise then...women of this day!
Arise, all women who have hearts!
Whether your baptism be of water or of tears!
Say firmly:
"We will not have questions answered by irrelevant agencies,
Our husbands will not come to us, reeking with carnage,
For caresses and applause.
Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn
All that we have been able to teach them of charity, mercy and patience.
We, the women of one country,
Will be too tender of those of another country
To allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs."

From the bosum of a devastated Earth a voice goes up with
Our own. It says: "Disarm! Disarm!
The sword of murder is not the balance of justice."
Blood does not wipe our dishonor,
Nor violence indicate possession.
As men have often forsaken the plough and the anvil at the summons of war,
Let women now leave all that may be left of home
For a great and earnest day of counsel.
Let them meet first, as women, to bewail and commemorate the dead.
Let them solemnly take counsel with each other as to the means
Whereby the great human family can live in peace...
Each bearing after his own time the sacred impress, not of Caesar,
But of God -
In the name of womanhood and humanity, I earnestly ask
That a general congress of women without limit of nationality,
May be appointed and held at someplace deemed most convenient
And the earliest period consistent with its objects,
To promote the alliance of the different nationalities,
The amicable settlement of international questions,
The great and general interests of peace.

Perché

"Have you been writing?" Four words, and the answer a sheepish "not really." Hence the post, a post that has no agenda, no theme, no direction. But for me the very act of writing brings me great joy, so why haven't I been indulging? I could list my excuses here; maybe even provide you with a PowerPoint presentation on my busy schedule, daily routines, how I have to feed the cats and the birds, plan lessons, pack lunches, and do my taxes. Yes, these never-ending tasks take up large chunks of my day; I do have to grocery shop and exercise and wash the dishes. The dogs do need to go to playgroup. But I also spend a lot of time surfing the web, chatting on Facebook and procrastinating. So I sit here today and vow to give myself the gift of words today, directionless words, just because I am worthy of taking a few minutes away from tasks that will just need to be redone tomorrow. When I finish this post I will feel peace-filled. Maybe that is why I have been "forgetting"  to write. There could be a part of me that needs a little anxiety or upheaval just to shake things up a bit. Life seems smooth today, I am happy with the direction it is taking. I am surrounded by people whom I love. I am secure. I am even content with the  overabundance of short sentences in this post. So why haven't I been writing really? My favorite word in Italian is "perché." Not only do I love the sound of the word when it rolls off the tongue, but it has two meanings. When asked it means "why," and when answering it means "because." So today's question. Why write? And the answer, because. It doesn't matter that it has been a while, I dare not even look at the date of the last post. What matters is that today I am giving myself the gift of ten minutes. Ten minutes of the sound of the computer keys clicking away, and ten minutes of joy. 

Likely Story

We humans have been telling stories ever since we rose from the "primordial ooze." The caves of Lascaux in the Pyrenees Mountains hold some of the earliest examples, drawings on the cave walls, some 17,000 years old. Humans thrive on story, from reading to television to gossip, we are walking histories. We like to think that our histories shape the people we are and the cultures we belong to.  In the fourteenth century the Florentine writer Giovanni Boccaccio wrote The Decameron, a book of one hundred tales told over the course of ten days during the time of the black death, which killed 30 - 60% of Europe's population. Later medical treatises  recommended listening to literature and soothing music as a way to stay healthy in times of epidemics. Some scholars speculate that these treatises were written after The Decameron, a book in which the main characters fled the plague in Florence, escaping to the countryside and spending their days telling tales and singing songs. I like to think that these early "doctors" held an answer to our modern ills. Although we are bombarded daily with television news stories, I think that we have become disconnected to others, and that disconnection comes from the lack of real face to face contact, of the act of sharing our stories with another. To have someone listen to one of our stories and empathize, to "know" what we are going through, that very connection is what our Facebook culture lacks. There is a void. And just as in the fourteenth century, that void may be filled by personal contact with our fellow human travelers, to listen to their words and identify with their struggles.

The Great Blush Revealed: Adventures in Humility

"Humility" has always been a concept that I have had a hard time grasping. What exactly does it mean? The online dictionary says that it is "the quality or condition of being humble (modest, inferior or respectful); modest opinion or estimate of one's own importance, rank, etc." It goes on to state the synonyms: lowliness, meekness or submissiveness. The antonym is pride.   I can go down the road to humility by being modest, but as a woman growing up in a culture that devalues my gender, I can take humility (by the dictionary's definition) to an extreme. I can think little of myself, because isn't that what the world's religions teach us? And doesn't my culture display women as body parts? (Sorry, just had to get the dig in.) I have come to have a different relationship with the word however. A friend of mine, Fred, always said that humility is teachability. Do I accept constructive criticism? Am I able to make changes in my behavior and admit when I learn I am in the wrong? I am not always wrong, and to be humble I do not have to be submissive. However I need to have a balanced notion of self. I have noticed lately that I tend to blush when community members with a so called "higher rank" than I, approach me. This is not humility. This is an extreme reaction where I do not feel equal. I believe that we are all God's children, and that as a child of God I stand on the same ground as my fellow human. (I believe that animals are equal as well, but I will save that argument for a different day.) I am not better than or less than anyone. Just because I have a "better" job, "better" rank in society, or I make more money, have a greater education...just because my hair is blond or my feet are a size 9-1/2 or eat only yogurt for breakfast...these exterior trappings do not make me a superior human being. The opposite is also true. I am not inferior because I make minimum wage and drive a foreign car. Today I have added a prayer to my morning routine. I have asked God to help me to be right-sized, to remain teachable. I don't have to kiss your feet, or expect you to kiss mine (they get kind of smelly, especially after a run.) That for me is my entry into a humble life. The Budoshin Jujitsu Philosophy states that humility is: "your ability to be humble while maintaining your integrity. You do not need to be boastful or tell people how wonderful you are or how much you know or what you can do. Although you may be quite knowledgeable or competent, it is for others to discover through your behavior and your actions. It is your ability to sincerely apologize when you have erred and help others who are in need without expecting thanks or compensation. Humility is based upon your sense of integrity and respect for yourself and others." (http://www.budoshin.com/philosophy.htm.)

God 301 Intensive

The move is complete, I am settling into a beautiful new home and I am grateful. Most of the boxes are unpacked and I am slipping into a new routine. I look out the window at the mist sinking down onto the mountain, my Christmas tree is nestled into the bay window and a water fountain adds some soothing noise. This is where God has led me, I had been scared to leave my old place, scared that I would miss the beauty of the backyard and pond, but I have slipped into a space that suits me and everything I love. The brain shoots right back to fear though and I could be admiring the view and the creamy colored walls and want more from God. I can zero in on what my life lacks right now, and the only thing my ego thinks it lacks is a full time "real" job, a constant source of income, guaranteed with health insurance to boot. I am currently in an on call position which requires constant surrender. I need to surrender my schedule and my paycheck to my Higher Source. I don't know from day to day if I will work and that is scary. But as I sit here today I realize that I have always had enough, no matter what I take home via payroll. I always have a home, food and heat, somehow these details are taken care of, but with vigilance on my part. I have to surrender my fears and my will and my life over to God, on a daily basis. It feels as if I am trudging my way through a 300 level class at college. But as with the class, if I do the work, keep up with the course load and go easy on myself, I end up making it through. I won't be in this financial position forever, I did the leg work, got the degree, I search the job boards and I understand that I will receive exactly it is I need to receive, and usually the gifts are greater than I ever could have imagined. I know that as fact when I look around my living room and curl up with a book and blanket.  

Moving...

I haven't written much lately as I have been getting ready to move after Thanksgiving. It hasn't been altogether that difficult however, because I had started the process of purging after my son left for college. My empty nest syndrome manifested in a psychotic obsessive need to get rid of everything I haven't been using. I went through closets, tossing Easter cards from the 80's along with other useless articles. I purged old files, burning tax returns and bills that had long since been paid off. I donated clothes and left extra furniture on the side of the room for passersby. The payoff for this fall cleaning is a simpler move for me. And so I enter another transition period.  This time I am allowing God to help. Although I love the apartment I am in, I have been lead to my new living quarters, which are closer to my partner. This seems like a big step for me, I am feeling a wee bit tender although I usually don't have a problem forging ahead in relationship. That is my problem, forging ahead, a sort of compulsive doing. I am either full steam ahead or crashed on the couch. This relationship has been growing steadily for the past five years. So it now keeps growing. This morning a great blue heron flew over the road in front of me, landing in the adjoining woods. I caught his picture standing there and watched for minutes as he just was, turning his head from time to time, I am sure wondering what that blue hunk of steel was beside the guardrail. I soon became impatient with our meditation and got out of the car to try to get a better look (and picture.) Needless to say he flew away. There is a time for everything, a time to move, a time to sit and pray. What becomes of this process when I am patient with God, when I move when it is time instead of forging ahead? The results are miraculous. I will be leaving one beautiful home on a nature preserve and moving into a more beautiful home with views of the Berkshire Hills, in close proximity to my loved ones. Today I am moving toward instead of away from. And that type of movement is best done slowly. I am not running today, forging ahead. Because when I slow down I have the space to see the heron, sitting by the side of the road. 

The Light at the End of the Tunnel

A brilliant man said today, "there is always a light at the end of every tunnel." So many times I forget as I am experiencing strife, that I always come out of that difficulty and into the light. However I can always choose to stay in the tunnel, to stay in the darkness or the problem. The light is scary sometimes, it is bright and many times it is an unknown. I believe I have made it to the other side of a period in my life that I have perceived to be difficult. After graduating from college I was plunged into unemployment, without the check. I was without an identity and an income. I wrote about it (on this blog), I shared it, I prayed, I read and I learned (slowly mind you) to slow down and savor each moment. I realized that I don't necessarily need to thrive in a fast-paced, workaholic environment. It is possible that the pace I held for years, ever since I began working at fourteen,was masking the woman I am, or the woman I want to be. We live in a productivity based culture, the more you do, the more you make, the more you achieve, the more you are esteemed. If I were to say to you, "I spent three hours meditating today," you might think, "ok, whatever." If I were to say, "I spent three hours at work today and invented the antidote for warts," you might congratulate me. Doing is valued. Being is not. But this summer I was forced to Be. I was forced to sit back, after I had done the footwork (action is required), and allow my Higher Power to take over. Forcing solutions backfired. Quiet contemplation prevailed. Today I am choosing to leave the tunnel and to walk out with my friends and my God. The light is bright and my eyes haven't quite adjusted, but I have faith that soon I will know which way to turn.