September 15, 2009: Beyond Words

On my couch are lovely, artisan pillows from Armenia, Greece and, now, Turkey, souvenirs from countries with centuries of hatred towards one another. In Istanbul last week, walking a few paces behind my sixteen-month old (step) grand-daughter, seeing the soft, “ahhh” eyes of Turkish men melting at the sight of this adorable, determined toddler, I remembered the many horror stories told by Greeks and Armenians of “those horrible Turks.”

How do we relate to one another from that gentle, loving, “ahhh” place, I wondered in worship on Sunday. Good question, huh?

On my way to Meeting on Sunday, I had walked past St. Anthony’s just as the congregation was singing a hymn I’d fallen in love with in Cuba. Hand on my heart, I stood on the sidewalk and listened. I don’t remember the words to that hymn either in Spanish or English (I vaguely recall something about Jesus and boats). Because, somehow, the hymn’s words don’t matter. It’s the melody which directly and profoundly speaks to my gentle, loving, “ahhh” core.

When we put language to that-greater-than-ourselves, that’s when it gets dicey. Love, Light, Peace, God, Christ, Allah, “There is a Spirit that delights to do no evil;” whatever word(s) represent our gentle, loving, “ahh” core, may we speak from that place to one another.

August 25, 2009: This will be a little longer

Within minutes of posting the last, brief acknowledgment of  discouragement, my doorbell rang. My neighbor and her sister wanted copies of my book. They also urged me to contact Oprah! Now, we all know what a long shot that would be. But these two women’s encouragement and enthusiasm came at just the right time. Their visit made me cry.

And yesterday, I met with my amazing godson who gave me excellent feedback re some downloadable discussion questions I plan to add to this website. (Apparently I have some more work to do!)

So I leave tomorrow for a two-week adventure in Turkey, “renewed and refreshed.” Thank you, Spirit.

One of the things I will be doing in Turkey is making a (brief) pilgrimage to Konya where the poet Rumi  is buried. Since my spiritual journey lately seems to be about embracing Mystery (how else to describe a doorbell ringing JUST when needed?), I’ll close with an appropriate poem by the “Mevlana” (Our master):

The Mystery of the Moment

by Rumi

To the mind there is such a thing as news,/ whereas to the inner knowing, it is all/in the middle of its happening./ To doubters, this is pain./To believers, it’s gospel./To the lover and the visionary,/it is life as it’s being lived.

December 22, 2008: Happy Hannukkah

The problem with not writing for The Somerville Journal anymore AND taking a break from novel-writing is that everything, EVERYTHING becomes a possibility for this blog. The early morning light sparkling through the massive icicles hanging from our neighbor’s porch? The overheard comment at a Somerville Avenue gas station  today? A (probably Arabic-speaking) guy pumping gas said to an SUV owner: “You’re better off with a Toyota than that thing.” The politics of who makes way for whom when two strangers approach each other on a narrow, snowy sidewalk pathway?

But in honor of Hannukkah, I think I’ll talk about light/Light. Which, as I’m sure you’ll recall, was the theme for my Christmas stocking gifts last year. (This year’s theme: From Around the World.)

[FYI: Something like what I’m about to say was said yesterday at Meeting by dear friend/Friend Mehmet Rona:]

It’s a miracle, isn’t it? As of yesterday, the days are getting longer. Right at this moment, the sun’s starting to melt our icy sidewalk. When you REALLY contemplate the miracle of light, then it’s pretty easy to accept that, yes, it was possible that only enough oil for one day miraculously stretched and stretched, right?

In honor of this miracle, today at Cambridge Naturals, I bought Sunbeam Candles, 100% beeswax, as stocking gifts.

“Wait a sec,” you say. “Light was last year’s stocking theme.”

Oh. Did I fail to mention that these candles were “Created with Solar Power”? How People’s Republic of Cambridge can you get?!

December 17, 2008: “Christmas happens.”

Yesterday, at Porter Square Books, I ran into Wendy Jehlen. In her mid-thirties, daughter of good friends Alain and Pat Jehlen, mother of two beautiful daughters, Wendy is a gifted dancer who’s also an interpreter for the deaf. Seconds before she’d entered the bookstore, apparently, Wendy had learned that the mother of one of her daughter’s friends had just died. “She was my age,” Wendy said tearfully.

The grim faces of the people I’d passed on the way to  Porter Square very much on my mind (people, I’m guessing, suffering from what’s happening to the economy), Wendy’s sad news, and knowing how many of my own friends and family are presently going through hard times, I commented on what a challenging Christmas this was going to be.

Wendy’s face brightened: “There’s a wonderful piece written right after Pearl Harbor,” she informed me. “I’ll try to send it to you. But basically it’s saying ‘Christmas happens even in the midst of hard times.’ ”

Ah ha! We’d talked about exactly this same concept in yoga class last week. Annie Hoffman, our amazing teacher, had read us something about how we’re essentially and fundamentally joyous beings. Sounds like the Quaker construct of Inner Light, doesn’t it?  Put in another way: Within each of us is Joy, Light, That of God, Love, or as this shiny, hopeful, loving and generous whatever-it-is thing is sometimes called at this time of year, Christmas Spirit. (Since we’re talking constructs, here, I can be a little sloppy with language, right? YOU try writing about the Unexplainable!)

That’s the thing about essential and fundamental: Like the sun, it’s always there. Even at night. A New Yorker short story about a deeply unhappy family on a ski trip who, to their surprise, were touched by the spirit of the season, ended: “Christmas happens.”