“Do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather, be afraid of the One who can destroy both soul and body in hell” Matthew 10:28. “Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him: but I will maintain mine own ways before him” Job 13:15. They are closing in; they are walking, running, marching with sticks and stones to break my bones. Maybe. At least all the images from January 6 tell me so, and the images are shown over and over and over to impress upon me how tentative is my very existence. And so what am I left to do? Barricade inside? I’m almost there already thanks to the virus. Weaponize? Yeah, I know; there are more accidental shootings from guns on family than on feared invaders. Preciado cautions, ”Our disappearance, though certain, is only relatively im- minent.” So, take it easy, breathe deeply and enjoy what time you have left and even though being called names really does hurt and sticks and stones may break bones, yet, will I trust my creator even as I plead my case before that eternal lover, the only one who could utterly obliterate me, but who I trust never would, so, if they come, open the door, take them a plate of cookies, but be sure to wear a mask. No sense testing fate.
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BE kindness
The following was forwarded to me by a friend:
As the world fights to figure everything out: Biden, Trump, COVID, BLM, Life…I’ll be holding doors for strangers, letting people cut in front of me in traffic, keeping babies entertained in grocery lines, stopping to talk to someone who is lonely, tipping generously, sharing food, giving children a thumbs-up, being patient with sales clerks, smiling at passersby.
WHY? Because I will not stand to live in a world where love is invisible. Join me in showing kindness, understanding, and judging less. Be kind to a stranger, give grace to people who may be having a bad day, foster or adopt a pet!!! And be forgiving with yourself.
If you can’t find kindness, BE kindness.
Lead with LOVE is my motto
Lost But Not Found*
John Winthrop, preacher of the “City on a Hill”
sermon, “claimed the Puritans had a special pact
with God to create a new, holy community. He also
claimed that the rich had a holy duty to look after
the poor.” While “looking after the poor” reeks
of white, Anglo-European paternalism and con-
descension, the Puritans seemingly completely lost
sight of Rev. Winthrop’s “holy duty” admonition.
Condescension ain’t great but the “holy duty” is better
than nothing and we are still looking for that lost “duty,”
but there still is the “Sorry, Charlie,” sign in sign
language at the bottom of the hill for the Indians.
*quote from The Writer’s Almanac, Jan. 12, 2021
The Insurrectionists
Did they not have stories read or sung to them when they were little, like lullabies when they were in the crib and colorful, story books in their little beds? Did they not hear the fairy tales and later did they not read Raul and C.S. and J.R.R.? And the poems, the sing-song poems filled with fun and wonder? Were they not able to blend those stories with their emerging stories? Did their parents not walk them in nature so they could talk to the trees and scamper with the rabbits and hear the melodies of the birds as the beautiful birds sang their stories? Did they not get their feet wet in the creek and watch the fish swim by and hear their parents tell them that one day they would swim with the fish? And as they got older, did they not hear the wonderful stories of faith, the blending of the eternal verities of myths with history? Was there no context except being rocked in the cradle of resentments, blame, fear, finger-pointing, scapegoating inherited from those who themselves had never really heard the sacred stories of life? How can they ever know the beautiful, glorious children of love they are without the stories? *idea from a meditation by Richard Rohr, 01/10/2020
this is not about the virus
the disease unto death,
the profound illness,
circulates and permeates.
breathe in all the hurt and harm,
all the alarm,
all the fear, the great fear.
let it draw near.
be not afraid
it has been said.
when it is there,
right there,
take it in, deeply.
with arms outstretched.
let the devil’s deception
meet open palms reception.
fill your whole soul.
hold it, hold it, hold it
and then let the sin of
the world go
for the sake of the creation,
for the sake of your
brothers and sisters,
for the sake of jesus,
buddha, lao tzu
and, yes, of course, you, too.
Expectations
His expectations
of others
are fraughtfully
and rightfully filled
with hesitations,
for without that hesitate,
expectation
is a very lonely place
in which to sit and wait.
With no expectations,
he won’t need hesitations;
he won’t just sit and wait;
he’ll get on with good things
to do, without regrets,
before it is too late.
The Horns Caught My Attention
I saw the crazy guy inside the Capitol Rotunda with his tattoos, Daniel Boone cap and Viking horns and it were the horns that really caught my attention. The guy? He’s a looney-toon, 32-year-old actor from Phoenix. The horns? I guess symbols of white, male aggression, violence, supremacy. I am about 50% Scandinavian and while I have never known very much about my roots, I have mythologized what they are and therefore who I am, but, actually I’m thinking about the Scandinavia I hear about today — world’s happiest people, environment- ally aware, peace loving. Back to the horns. Symbols of savagery. I am the son of Gust. I guess that would make me a Gustafson even though I was told my name was Hanson before some ancestor changed it to what it is today for reasons never explained. While I love my long-deceased father, I actually like my baptism name better — child of God, brother and friend of Jesus; you know — Jesus, the Middle-Eastern, dark-skinned guy who is the wonderful window into the universal, inclusive, grace- filled Spirit of peace and love. Actually, I think my hornless father would have liked that. Probably my long-gone wooden- shoe wearing Dutch mother, too.
The Day After Yesterday
I read the meditations and the poems in my inbox; I started the coffee; I sat down on the big ottoman of the big chair the Chocolate Lab knows as hers and where she slept after her breakfast; I petted her; I reclined putting my head on a big arm of the big chair; I stroked her big, beautiful, brown body; I petted her head and she kissed my hand. Only then, only then, did I have the courage to go back to the computer and revisit the horror known as yesterday.
Countering Fear*
To counter the present permeating fear he said that while it isn’t all that clear, it can’t be anymore ineffective than the spewing of all the invective. And so, when encountering anyone he will say behind the mask, here is a daughter/son — Beloved Child of God — divinity to laud. And he will bow humbly in that permeating presence of God. *idea from a meditation by Henri Nouwen
choices
everyday we make choices —
do I go up, do I go down
do I go all around?
sometimes those choices
are very, very hard
to make
because things could break,
will break, have to break.
you can’t get at what is inside
without breaking the seal;
if the cancer is there,
it has to be removed
before it consumes
and destroys
everything.
to leave it
would be unethical,
immoral — unless,
unless, unless. yes,
there are choices
to be made.
life is not easy;
there are always
choices.
you can’t get the
truth without
cracking the code;
the egg is in your
hand;
do you get the yoke?
well, of course not.
you can’t get the yoke
without cracking the
shell.