Blog Action Day: What can I do from the center of my circle?

Today is Blog Action Day. Each year on October 15, bloggers around the world join forces to write on one topic. This year's topic: climate change.

As a follower of an earth-centered or nature-based spirituality, you would think the topic would be near and dear to my heart and show up frequently in this blog. You would be half right. Since you haven't seen a lot of posts about it, you probably know which half.

Yes, I care...deeply. And it's a big, big topic...too big for me to wrap my head around most of the time. I find it easier to talk about basic human rights and gratitude because those are things that I feel most empowered to do something about. My path of action isn't as clear about everything. Scientists and environmentalists argue; politicians rail about emminent doom or scream that it's all for progress and for the best. Both the science and politics confound me.

Since scientists haven't nailed it down completley yet, I don't feel too bad.  Amid the debate of what is and what isn't really happening, my favorite definition or explanation so far is this:

Anthropogenic factors are human activities that change the environment. In some cases the chain of causality of human influence on the climate is direct and unambiguous (for example, the effects of irrigation on local humidity), whilst in other instances it is less clear. Various hypotheses for human-induced climate change have been argued for many years. Presently the scientific consensus on climate change is that human activity is very likely the cause for the rapid increase in global average temperatures over the past several decades.[22] Consequently, the debate has largely shifted onto ways to reduce further human impact and to find ways to adapt to change that has already occurred.[23] (Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Climate_change Retrieved 10-15-09)

Which brings me to the "action" part of Blog Action Day. What can we do about it? How can we "reduce human impact"... or at least make our impact positive?

Forget for a minute the political landscape, power struggles, oil companies, manufacturing...and focus on your personal environment. Picture yourself as the center of a circle with a radius of 100 feet. What is contained within your circle? Let's for a moment consider that circle your Sphere of Influence. What changes could you, personally, make within your Sphere?

I've been assessing my own Sphere of Influence, and I've come up with mixed results.

I'm at home this morning. Within my personal Sphere of Influence, the light is on the bathroom, though no one is in there. My refrigerator is stocked with food, much of which came from very far away. I have shoes in my closet that were made on another continent and had to be shipped here by a variety of coal and steam and fossil-fuel powered conveyences. My car is a mid-sized, gas-burning sedan that seats five, and it usually carries only me or, occasionally, my husband and me.

My Pagan-who-loves-the-earth score isn't very high, is it?

On the other hand, I'm working from home this morning rather than firing up the car for the 40 mile round trip to the office and back. We grew a garden this year, eating and sharing food that didn't have to be trucked or shipped from anywhere, fertilized with compost we made all year, and bearing not a trace of pesticide. That garden patch has already been replanted for fall with healthy turnip greens. My recycle bin, currently overflowing in the kitchen, is full of plastic, glass, and paper that won't end up in the landfill.

The saying comes to mind: "Just because I can't do everything, it doesn't mean I can't do something."

That saying is quickly followed by: "Just because I'm doing something, it doesn't mean I can't do more."

More garden next year means purchasing less food floated over oceans or trucked over road and rail. Moving to full-time work at home reduces emissions from car trips. Seeking out local vendors when possible reduces a little more. And it's all within my little Sphere of Influence.

Also within my Sphere of Influence this morning is my keyboard, reaching out to you to ask you to join me, to raise our awareness of what we can act on ourselves. It's admirable to understand the larger issues in climate change, to take political action and make a difference globally. It's equally admirable...and just as necessary...to take action within arm's reach.

I'm doing it now. I can still do much more. And I'd like to know what you're doing. Please share your ideas and the actions you're taking within your own Sphere of Influence. Together, we can all do more.

Illustration credit:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/notionscapital/ / CC BY 2.0

Four Thousand Beautiful Words

I haven't done a photo post like this in a while, but I had the urge tonight to just share things that have caught my eye of late. Grateful eyes see beauty everywhere. With all the rain we've had lately...well, there seems to be a theme.

A Gerbera daisy in my yard

Beads of water on a leaf on the deck

Cherry tomatoes in our garden

Water droplets on the dressina plant

All photos by Linda Davenport 2009

Sunday Sounds: Gaia Consort

Welcome back to Sunday Sounds!  Today's offering is by a Pagan-oriented band out of the Northwest, Gaia Consort.

These guys are so, so good! Pagan music in general has gotten a lot better in the last few years. Artists are maturing and, more importantly, audiences for Pagan music are growing, attracting a larger group of musicians to the genre. That's good news all around.

I've always wanted to open a Midwinter (Yule) circle with this song...and maybe this year I will. But first, I'll share it with you. The song is "Gathering" from the album, "Gaia Circles." It's a great album all around, as is everything I've heard from them. I also have "Evolve" and will be purchasing more soon. If you like what you hear, I encourage you to support Gaia Consort by purchasing their music. You can find it here on Heartsong Recommends... or at the the band's website. They've generously made MP3's of almost all their music available on the site and encourage sharing to get the word out. Of course, sharing the joy doesn't buy their biscuits, so please consider making a purchase if the music moves you. Enjoy!

From the East and in-breath of dawn
From the South, where fire is born
From the West, where the water is rising
From the North, where Gaia calls home

We have come to offer our story
We have come to open the well
It is balance we're seeking in all things
We have come to offer our selves

Salmon in the streambed, Raven in the sky
Will you be the voice of Gaia?
Willow in the marsh grass, Redwing fly
Will you be the voice of the world

Lizard on the rock face, tongue flick air
Will you be the voice of Gaia?
Heron on the tideflat, Great Brown Bear
Will you be the voice of the world?

Building up a bonfire - calling back the light
Calling up a green man - WE ARE GATHERING
Calling up a storm cloud -calling back the light
Calling up a horned one - WE ARE GATHERING

Here - now

The light on the leaves which brings flesh to the bone
which makes possible love and the dancing allowed
The salt in the sea & the sunlight reflected
like jewels in the mist that the forest will breath
The brush of the skin against skin and the nerve
that will carry the song to the tongue and the mind
The air in my lungs that feeds the fire in my blood
that brings the life to my heart and my reason for being

Building up a bonfire - calling back the light
Calling up a green man - WE ARE GATHERING
Calling up a storm cloud -calling back the light
Calling up a horned one - WE ARE GATHERING

We have come to be part of a healing
We have come to celebrate life
As we wake her, Gaia she's dreaming
We have come to call back the light

Salmon in the streambed, Raven in the sky
Will you be the voice of Gaia?
Willow in the marsh grass, Redwing fly
Will you be the voice of the world

Lizard on the rock face, tongue flick air
Will you be the voice of Gaia?
Heron on the tideflat, Great Brown Bear
Will you be the voice of the world?

Building up a bonfire - calling back the light
Calling up a green man - WE ARE GATHERING
Calling up a storm cloud -calling back the light
Calling up a horned one - WE ARE GATHERING

Calling up a whirlwind - calling back the light
Calling up a Wild Thing - WE ARE GATHERING
Lovers in the Dark Moon - calling back the light
Calling up an Oak King - WE ARE GATHERING

NOW
Copyright 1/6/97 Christopher Bingham

Waning Moon, Falling Leaves...Life Marches On

I'm working at home today, sitting behind my laptop screen at my dining room table. The doors onto the deck afford me a healthy dose of sunshine and an ever changing floor show of bird, leaves, wind, and weather.

Moments ago I heard a rustle and looked up to see a flurry of leaves falling to the ground, shaken loose by the breeze...and I was broadsided by memories of so many autumns, so many cool breezes on clear days, with skies so blue my eyes ached, leaves falling around me, crunching on the ground as I walked.

Autumn has always been my favorite time of year. As a child, I couldn't wait for the days to get crisp and cool. I would put on a cozy if ill-matched sweater and go outside, marveling in how different everything was...how the smells changed, the sounds,the light, the feel of the air. 

Watching those leaves fall brought that all back to me. I can smell the air standing underneath the two scalybark hickory trees in the front yard of a house where we lived, even though I'm in my kitchen. I can feel my red cotton Buster Brown sweater with snaps up the front and my rain boots and warm socks. And I'm crying...and I'm not sure why.

Fall comes with such regularity...no matter how sweet the summer, there is no holding back, no slowing the progression of time. This is my 52nd October...I'll see my 53rd November in just a few weeks...and while I know that there will be countless more beyond, I won't always see them. The autumn breezes that energize me and the smells of fallen leaves on damp ground that thrill me every year will go on. One day, I just won't be there to see it. And I honestly don't know if I'm crying because I know my time in this life will end or because the time I've had has been so damned precious, so sweet and juicy and rich.

I don't know what happens when we die.  Nature teaches me, though, that life is endless...that everything that lives dies...and lives again in some form. I trust that it will be so with me, too, and I'm not afraid. I'm not in a hurry...but I have no fear. If anything, my days are so much sweeter lately. The recent death of a young friend and that of at least two other young men that I'm aware of has heightened my awareness of the brevity of life and my gratitude for every moment.

One thing I do know...sitting here working when I want to be outside dancing in the falling leaves is taking every bit of discipline I have. Life is short and fall is wonderful and leaves make the best waltz partners, much to the amusement of my neighbors. Ah, but what of it? Life is too short to worry about giggling neighbors. 

I'm outta here...lunch hour will see no sandwich or soup today. Instead, I'll be twirling in the backyard, arms flung wide, laughing and singing and soaking up Mama's last dance before the long sleep.

Strike up the band...a fiddle tune, if you please...and make it lively...

Photographs: Linda Davenport 2009

Sunday Sounds: Jeff Buckley and Eva Cassidy

I couldn't decide between two songs for this week's Sunday Sounds, so you get a two-fer!

These songs are written by two immensely talented songwriters. I've heard both Leonard Cohen and Sting perform their respective songs and they moved me deeply. But Jeff Buckley and Eva Cassidy, two gifted singers who died young, "owned" these songs. When they sing the words, something more than the original composition results, something bigger, richer, purer. 


I hope you enjoy this morning's Sunday Sounds. If you like anything here and want to support the artists with a copy of your own, please visit Heartsong Recommends... where you can purchase from Amazon.


First up...Jeff Buckley singing Lenoard Cohen's, "Hallelujah."  You may recognize the song from "Shrek" where Jon Bon Jovi did a very fine job with it. But it's Buckley's version that makes me cry every time. The album is "Grace."




Well I heard there was a secret chord
That David played, and it pleased the Lord
But you don't really care for music, do ya?
Well it goes like this
The fourth, the fifth
The minor fall and the major lift
The baffled king composing Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah

Well Your faith was strong but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you
She tied you to her kitchen chair
And she broke your throne and she cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah

Well baby I've been here before
I've seen this room and I've walked this floor
I used to live alone before I knew ya
I've seen your flag on the marble arch
Love is not a victory march
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah

Well there was a time when you let me know
What's really going on below
But now you never show that to me do you?
And remember when I moved in you?
And the holy dove was moving too
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah

Well maybe there's a God above
But all I've ever learned from love
Was how to shoot somebody who'd out drew ya
And it's not a cry that you hear at night
It's not somebody who's seen in the light
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah

Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah

Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah <<(held for a long time)
Hallelujah

Sting's "Fields of Gold" is a beautiful song of love that transcends loss. Again, Sting sings his own words admirably, but Eva Cassidy takes this song to an entirely different emotional place. Someone may prove me wrong someday, but right now I don't see how anyone or anything could make this song any better than this. The album is "Songbird."




You'll remember me when the west wind moves
Among the fields of barley
You can tell the sun in his jealous sky
When we walked in fields of gold

So she took her love for to gaze awhile
Among the fields of barley
In his arms she fell as her hair came down
Among the fields of gold

Will you stay with me will you be my love
Among the fields of barley
And you can tell the sun in his jealous sky
When we walked in fields of gold

I never made promises lightly
And there have been some that I've broken
But I swear in the days still left
We will walk in fields of gold
We'll walk in fields of gold

I never made promises lightly
And there have been some that I've broken
But I swear in the days still left
We will walk in fields of gold
We'll walk in fields of gold

Many years have passed since those summer days
Among the fields of barley
See the children run as the sun goes down
As you lie in fields of gold

You'll remember me when the west wind moves
Among the fields of barley
You can tell the sun in his jealous sky
When we walked in fields of gold
When we walked in fields of gold
When we walked in fields of gold 

Remembering a Smile

A friend is crossing the veil today...and the Old Ones will welcome one of their own, a bright smile and beautiful spirit. 


Friend, father, husband, brother, son...Kelly will be remembered with love.

My eyes look to the west tonight...rest well, friend...well done.

Kelly's death is a stark reminder of just how thin and fragile is the line between death and life. We go about our lives each day as though tomorrow, next week, next year were a given. How could it not be so? To live, to participate fully in the world requires that we assume that our next breath will follow, that our heart will continue to beat steadily, that tomorrow will see us rise sleepily and start another day.

And yet we know that there are no guarantees. The next heart beat, the next second, is not a given. All that is sure is that our lives in this body will end.

We talk about the sanctity of life and take vast measures to preserve life while, all the while, our bodies are surely preparing for that life to end. As Pagans, we embrace the physical as part and parcel of the spiritual; there is no difference. We don't view our life on Earth as a trial to be endured until we reach heaven. Life is full and rich and complete right here. But it seems to me that we fall short of fully embracing this physical experience because we still haven't come to terms with death and dying.

As I wrote that last sentence, I caught myself thinking, "Who can possibly hope to come to terms with death? Dying isn't natural."  I recognize that thought as a carryover from my Christian background. In the Christian mythos, death entered the world through sin and disobedience. Before the first man and woman disobeyed Jehovah, they were destined to live forever. From that perspective, death is not a natural part of living and accepting it as such makes no sense.

But I don't subscribe to that mythos. When I look around me, everything in nature tells me that death is, indeed, a part of life...that we enter the world, grow, spread seed and set fruit, and finally slow down and die. And in all the natural world, we seem to be the only ones who treat death and the process of dying as we do. We rarely even speak the words...die, died, dead. We say "passed away," "crossed over," "left this earthly plane." We celebrate birth, idolize youth, make heroes of our adults, hide or hide from our elders, and shun death.

There is a gap in our studies, in our liturgy, our literature, and our world view. To embrace the physical life we need to embrace all of that life, including how it will end. Death has been shortchanged in our culture and in our teaching. We need to learn to look sickness, aging, and death in the eye, to meet it as squarely and with as much acceptance as meet conception and birth, to sit comfortably in the presence of our own mortality.

There are few books written from a Pagan perspective that deal directly with death and dying. I know one, The Pagan Book of Living and Dying by Starhawk, and I highly recommend it. I'd be very interested in any other recommendations you might make. ADDED 10/6/09: I neglected to mention another book, More than Meets the Eye by Yvonne Perry.  Yvonne's book is filled with stories of contact with those who have died, both from her own experience and that of others.

I'm going to buy a copy of the Starhawk book and donate it to our local Hospice library, and I'm going to make a point to do more writing and work on my relationship with life from beginning all the way to and through the end. I invite you to join me.

Poetry: Divine Mother

A cherished friend and heart sister wrote this poem recently. Her background is Christian and she has described her spiritual leanings fairly recently as a Christian-Buddhist-Pagan mix. Her words touched me deeply and I wanted to share them with you.

It is, I believe, the first stanza that captured me most. What courage lives in those three short lines..and what wonders await us when we set aside our narrow precepts and believe there could be more.

Come .. open your heart to my voice.
Set aside narrow precepts.

Believe there could be more.

Come .. allow yourself to feel my touch.
Relax in my gentle breeze.
Breathe my scent after rain.

Come .. let me soothe your thoughts.
Know my peacefulness.
Recenter in my calm.

Come .. embrace my love.
Allow me in your world.
Rest in your mother's arms.


(Divine Mother - RJH 092909)

Sunday Sounds - Sailing to Philadelphia

Today's offering: Mark Knopfler and James Taylor, "Sailing to Philadelphia" from "Sailing to Philadelphia."

I can't tell you all the ways this song moves me...two amazing singers...soul-stirring instrumentation...and oh, those the lyrics...the story...the way my heart and soul and gut can feel the dreams, the fear, the excitement...yeah, it's just a killer song. Knopfler says he "respectfully distilled" a Thomas Pinchon novel about Mason and Dixon into this two minutes of musical bliss. All I can say to that is, yes!


If you hear something you like on Sunday Sounds and want to support the artists with your own copy, please visit Heartsong Recommends... and purchase from Amazon.

Sailing to Philadelphia - Mark Knopfler

I am Jeremiah Dixon
I am a Geordie boy
A glass of wine with you, sir
And the ladies I'll enjoy
All Durham and Northumberland
Is measured up by my own hand
It was my fate from birth
To make my mark upon the earth...

He calls me Charlie Mason
A stargazer am I

It seems that I was born
To chart the evening sky
They'd cut me out for baking bread
But I had other dreams instead
This baker's boy from the west country
Would join the Royal Society...

We are sailing to Philadelphia
A world away from the coaly Tyne
Sailing to Philadelphia
To draw the line
A Mason-Dixon line

Now you're a good surveyor, Dixon
But I swear you make me mad
The west will kill us both
You gullible Geordie lad
You talk of liberty
How can America be free
A Geordie and a bakers boy
In the forests of the Iroquois...

Now hold your head up, Mason
See America lies there
The morning tide has raised
The capes of Delaware
Come up and feel the sun
A new morning has begun
Another day will make it clear
Why your stars should guide us here...

We are sailing to Philadelphia
A world away from the coaly Tyne
Sailing to Philadelphia
To draw the line
A Mason-Dixon line

Bright Yellow Conversations

Days come and go

work flows in and out

and blends into continuous shades of

gray and grayer.

We put on our corporate masks

take on our business casual aspects

and don the drab mantle of

political correctness.

Then you drop by

and for a few minutes

we talk with each other

not at each other

using real words

about real things

in a real conversation.

A spot of bright color

appears and spreads

right in the middle of my day.

Thank you, friend, for

speaking truth

laughing freely

having the courage to offend

when truth is offensive

turning on the light

and throwing a brief but beautiful

bucket of colorful conversation

against the plain backdrop

waking me from the restless sleep

of the terminally careful.

Dedicated to friends and colleagues who understand that real conversation doesn't tiptoe around; it wears big boots and wades right into the scary places, where all good conversations start.


Wishing you bright, bold, colorful conversations...everyday!


Photo by Linda Davenport 2009

May You Never Hunger

In Wiccan ritual circles, it is traditional to share a bit of food and drink near the end of the ritual. The plate and cup are passed to each participant with the words, “May you never hunger,” and, “May you never thirst.”

It’s one of my favorite parts of ritual…but I’ve always been nagged just a bit by the words. To never know hunger…to never thirst…isn’t quite right.

I don’t know that changing a time-honored and much loved ritual tradition is in order…but the thoughts beg to be shared so share them I will…with you…here.

My wish for you…

May you know enough sadness
to deepen your joy.


May you experience fear
that you may know your own courage.


May you feel loneliness
that you may cherish company.


May you be acquainted with death
that you may live fully.


May you experience hunger
that you may understand enough.


May you thirst just enough
to sweeten your cup.

Blessed be, my friends…and may you live in gratitude and abundance.

Sunday Sounds

Music plays a big role in my life. I've always felt that no one really knows me until they know the music that moves me.

So...with a tip of my pointed hat to Sitara Haye for the idea and without further ado...welcome to Sunday Sounds. Each Sunday I'll post a piece of music. There's no theme, no buried motive...just the music I love. Selections will be heavy on the singer/songwriter side of things; I love good lyrics, and there are some amazing lyricists I can't wait to share with you.

I hope you enjoy Sunday Sounds. If you like something you hear and want to support the artists with your own copy, please visit Heartsong Reommends... and purchase from Amazon.

 Now...tell me...what music moves you?

First up: Chris Smither, "Origin of Species" from the album, "Leave the Light On."

Winning, Losing, and Paying Attention

Watching a fishing show with my husband this morning, interested more in his interest and the lake scenery than the fishing, a sporting goods commercial caught my attention:

"Ignore victory; disregard defeat; look inward to what matters most."

When I look back on my life so far, there have been a lot of wins and losses. I can still feel the emotion...the elation of the win, the despair of the loss. But when I think about how my life is affected today, it's not what I won or how much I lost that has any impact. It's what I learned from the experience that remains.

I lost a job I loved, one that afforded me so many opportunities to grow and develop, allowed me to rebuild much of my nearly-depleted sense of self-worth, rediscover my talents, and find my creative center again. And I grieved that loss for a long time, and as long as I was grieving, focusing on the loss, I stayed stuck there. It was only when I let go of the loss and turned inward, examined my actions and emotions, took inventory of what I still possessed, had always possessed, that I moved forward.

The amazing win, the agonizing defeat...don't mean anything unless we learn something from them. And in the introspection, as we examine what got us into the winners' circle or the losers' bracket, lie the seeds of the next victory, the next stage of growth and development.

I believe that our purpose in life is to be the very best at being exactly who we are. All the wins and losses we accumulate along the way are just markers, stopping points that direct us inward for introspection, self-examination, and growth. It doesn't matter if you won or lost. It matters that you paid attention.

Be Amazed and Delighted!

What fascinates you? Captures your attention, fires your imagination, drives you to learn more, and creates in you a sense of mystery and wonder?

I was playing around in my photo editor this morning, working with a photo I'd snapped of a Gerbera Daisy in my garden after a rain shower a few days ago. I dropped out all the background and adjusted the colors for more or less pure primary hues - blue, yellow, and red.

While not exactly high art, the result made me smile. It reminded me of the fascination I had as a child learning the color wheel. The idea that all the beautiful colors in the world can be traced back to just three primary colors was extraordinary knowledge for me. I had the keys to the kingdom! I could make colors...glorious, unlimited, vibrant, rich, joyous colors...from just three little pots of paint! Oh, the messes I made with that little bit of knowledge!

My fascination with the properties of color never went away. While most of the other kids were worried about whether to sharpen their crayons or peel and color sideways, I was happily exploring opposites - green and red, blue and orange, purple and yellow - and finally figuring out the difference between red-violet and violet-red.

As I reminesced about my joy, I wondered: When did I last feel that way? As adults, we seem to lose much of the sense of wonder we had when we were children, and I don't know why. We certainly haven't learned everything! There's a world of knowledge, a universe full of miracles and wonders that, like the mystery of color, can capture and fire our imaginations. How do we let ourselves miss that?

So here's my wish for today: Let's be fascinated with something. Find a mystery and delve into it with enthusiasm and wonder. Let's close our eyes for a moment, and open them as the eyes of a child, amazed and delighted.

"Let the fascination come on and rain all over me..." - Melissa Etheridge

Photo by Linda Davenport 2009

Love in Action - Here's a Plan

I found this quote this morning in my "A Word A Day" email from Anu Garg:

All I ask is this: Do something. Try something. Speaking out, showing up, writing a letter, a check, a strongly worded e-mail. Pick a cause -- there are few unworthy ones. And nudge yourself past the brink of tacit support to action. Once a month, once a year, or just once. -Joss Whedon, writer and film director (b. 1964)

What a great plan for turning passive love into an active verb. And Mr. Whedon hits on one of the biggest reasons why we don't always love as actively as we wish. It takes courage and effort to break inertia, to move from a body at rest to a body in motion. And his suggestion to do something...anything...is the only recipe for turning a body at rest, wanting to stay comfortably in that place, into a body in motion, one that wants just as much to remain in motion.

Thank you, Joss Whedon, for a well-stated call to action. Thank you, too, for Buffy and Angel and oh-my-yes Firefly and Serenity. But I digress. :)

Pain, Wisdom, and Love in Action

Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding. It is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self, so therefore, trust the physician and drink his remedy in silence and tranquility. - Kahlil Gibran

I attended a community ritual last night. It was a beautiful ritual about remembering where you come from, knowing that all that has transpired in your life, good and bad, has contributed to who you are. To forget even the painful parts is to disregard an opportunity to learn, to grow wiser, stronger, more whole. It was about forgiveness, not for the sake of the transgressor, but for ourselves, freeing us of a burden that keeps us from moving forward.

In the course of the ritual, two unrelated young people, one a teenager, one just barely twentyone, were sobbing. Knowing a bit about both of them, I know that their pain was genuine, the kind that, in both cases, comes from people they love doing things they can't understand. And it struck me that their tears, the pain they were feeling, was just as Gibran said, "...the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding." I pray that they will keep growing, keep chipping away at the shell, and that they'll allow the outpouring of love from their larger community to hold them up while they grow through the pain.

Last night was an opportunity to witness many wonders.

When the young man was so obviously hurting, several men in the community stepped around the circle to enfold him, hold him in hugs close and strong, kiss the top of his head, speak to him softly. Men...big, beautiful, strong, loving men...doing what men in our culture have so often forgotten (or never learned) how to do...to care for each other, to nurture their boys into men with both strength and tenderness.

The young woman received the same kind of support, more from the women but not exclusively. And in both cases, the parents...the young woman's father, the young man's mother...both standing beside their children and feeling that pain as surely and as deeply, were encouraged and supported, too. I remember thinking as I watched the young man and his mother that it must be like giving birth all over again for her.

Part of the understanding that comes from going through our children's pain with them is that it is their pain, their growth. We share the pain, but we can't take it away from them, can't do it for them, and can't lead them to wisdom on a painless path. In my experience, that's been the hardest part of being a parent.

Earlier in the evening, a beautiful young mother and wife with a disease that causes her terrible pain was sick. A number of us tended to her as best we could, using touch and energy work to aid her. Later, when the young people were hurting so, she was right there, comforting them, sharing her own precious energy to help them through pain when she has so much of her own.

Love is a verb or it's a lie. My husband says that frequently and I've come to understand the absolute truth of it. Love acts. There are times when the only act possible or advisable may be a silent prayer, but even that is a conscious action. Answering honestly, can any of us say that we always act in love? Do we always do what we can, when we can, including offering that heartfelt, silent prayer when that's all we can do?

I can't say it, though I wish I could. It's a goal of mine to use my hands, my voice, my strength and energy to be a loving force in the world. I have to remind myself frequently that I can't do everything, but I can do one thing...that I don't know everything but that doesn't mean I don't know anything...that if I can't heal or feed or hug or tend the world, I can heal or feed or hug or tend one...now...with love...and when I have neither a dollar nor an hour to give, I have a voice with which to be an advocate.

I am but one, but I am not the only one. Love acts.

9/11 Remembering...learning...acting

I, like many if not most Americans, have had the events of 9/11 on my mind all day. My heart still aches for those who died in fear and pain, and the families, friends, and shell-shocked nation they left behind. That pain extends to the perpetrators of the attack, who also lost their lives in an attempt to fulfil what they believed to be a God-given mission. My heart aches, too, for the affect that event had on this country and the world.

My friend Sitara sent a private email that I found particularly insightful and on target. With her permission, I'm sharing it here. It's a powerful call to action that each one of us can answer and that, if answered, can change the world.

Please read with an open mind, an open heart, and a willing spirit. Let us build peace from the ashes.

Greetings, dear friends...

Today is the anniversary of a recent disaster: the bombing of the WTC in New York. As you go through your day, you are likely to see many references to this event, memorial services being held, news coverage and hype. There's even a ritual vigil at the Chattanooga Spirit Gathering this evening (if you're planning to attend).

Remembering 9/11 isn't about hyping our military or the war or terror. As much as it may offend someone to hear it, those that died in the WTC bombings are no different or more special than anyone else who is the victim of a violent crime spurred by hate and prejudice in which the victim loses their life. Those that died on 9/11/01 are no different or more special than those killed by gay-haters, wife-beaters, child-molesters, rapist-murderers, Neo-Fascists, or the good old boys down the road who don't want a black person on their block. We have funerals for people lost to tragic circumstances, but rarely do we have repeated funerals, every year, with the brand of Patriot Day slapped on the funeral event to muscle everyone behind the memorial lest they be branded unpatriotic.

So, rather than light a candle and sit passively by looking patriotic, I would like to ask each of you a simple question:

What do you do daily to encourage peace?

The memorials being held are still mostly about the people holding them -- "Look at me! 9/11 is still important! I'm so patriotic! I'm so sad for the people who died and the families left behind!" But at these vigils, where is the money being taken up for Anti-Violence associations? Where is anything being done to change the NOW? A lit candle in the darkness does NOTHING except provide a bit of light to show the face of the person holding the candle. And if it's all about you, then it's not all about them, or the cause you're speaking out about.

We cannot bring about world peace by lighting candles. We can only bring about that peace by being the light. By becoming that force for good in the world, standing up for those oppressed, giving our time and money to organizations that mobilize for those goals. We bring about peace through our actions, and the first action must be seeking and embodying peace within ourselves so that we move in peaceful ways each day.

So tonight, I ask that you light no candle. I ask you to stand in the darkness and realize that you are the Light. I ask you to commit to one thing that you will do actively this year to promote and create peace, preferably in a way that extends beyond yourself. You may choose to pray daily, to volunteer for a local organization or make a monetary donation to a larger one. It's up to you.

Don't stand around holding a candle. Choose to be the fire that transforms the world.

Blessings on this day of action,
Lady Nefersitara

Photo by RickyDavid via Flickr

Another Treasure Found

Today my old hippie soul rejoiced and laughed and smiled and nearly cried. The cause of all this ruckus? A beautiful blog I found today.

The Hippie Parade is full of love and peace and life and the ups and downs of every single day with your eyes open to look for love and peace and life. And even if you've never considered yourself a hippie, old or otherwise, you will find a blessing in the pure poetry and art.

Go there when you have some time to spend...and spend it.

Peace.

The Work of Transformation

I am always looking for ways to better articulate things I believe, things I know...those bits of hard-earned (or generoulsly gifted) wisdom that have made such a difference in my life. For all the certainty I feel about these things, finding the words eludes me. As you can imagine, that's a frustrating state for a writer.

Once in a while, I come across another writer's work that accomplishes what I could not. I want to share with you the words of Christiane Northrup, M.D., from The Wisdom of Menopause. If you're a man, or if you're not at midlife or approaching menopause, please don't stop reading now! What she has to say here applies universally.

"This process of transformation can only succeed, however, if we become proactive in two ways. First, we must be willing to take full responsibility for our share of the problems in our lives. It takes great courage to admit our own contributions to the things that have gone wrong for us and to stop seeing ourselves simply as victims of someone or something outside of ourselves. After all, the person in the victim role tends to get all the sympathy and to assume the high road morally, which is appealing; none of us wants to feel like the bad guy. But even though taking the victim role may seem a good choice in the short run, this stance is ultimately devoid of any power to help us change, heal, grow, and move on to a more fulfilling and joyful life.

"The second requirement for transformation is more difficult by far: we must be willing to feel the pain of loss and grieve for those parts of our lives that we are leaving behind. And that includes our fantasies of how our lives could have been different if only. Facing up to such loss is rarely easy, and that is why so many of us resist change in general and at midlife in particular. A part of us rationalizes, 'Why rock the boat? I'm halfway finished with my life. Wouldn't it just be easier to accept what I have rather than risk the unknown?'

"The end of any significant relationship, or any major phase of our lives, even one that has made us unhappy or held us back from our full growth and fulfillment, feels like a death - pure and simple. To move past it, we have to feel the sadness of that loss and grieve fully for what might have been and now will never be.

"And then we must pick ourselves up and move toward the unkonw. All our deepest fears are likely to surface as we find ourselves facing the uncertainity of the future."

Thank you, Dr. Northrup, for this clearly articulated truth.

All that I can add is this: the process of transformation, of accepting our own responsibility and, in doing so, claiming our own power, is simple...but it is never easy. Transformation is hard work and, in my experience, it never ends.

Simple? Yes. Easy? Never. Worth it? Absolutely!

Participate in the Pagan Census Project

If you identify as Pagan in any of its various forms, please consider completing the Pagan Census Survey. This survey was first conducted 20 years ago and is being conducted again to measure change.

I'll be completing the survey later today, and I hope you'll add your answers.

And here in the United States, today is Labor Day. May the labors of your hands and hearts be blessed; may you always find something to be "about"; and may you know deep, restorative, rest. Blessings!

Love is a Verb - Possible Dreams International

“Each time a person stands up for an ideal, or acts to improve the lot of others, or strikes out against injustice, he sends forth a tiny ripple of hope, and crossing each other from a million different centers of energy and daring, these ripples build a current that can sweep down the mightiest walls of oppression and resistance.” -- Robert F Kennedy

"Love is a verb or it's a lie." - Jim Davenport

When people put love into action, it's worth celebrating. Whether it's a tender word, a loving touch, a meal, a pair of shoes, or a silent prayer offered when no other action is available, acts of love ripple and vibrate the web of life.

The folks at Possible Dreams International are putting their love into action in a time and place where it is sorely needed. One of my heroes in the blogosphere, Maithri Goonetilleke, and his fellow doctors, nurses, and other caregivers have formed an organization to further the work they've been doing all along in Swaziland.

Swaziland is an area of Africa with the largest prevalence of HIV/AIDS in the world. According to Maithri, the community of Setiki in Swaziland has more coffin salesmen than grocery stores. The stories he shares in his blog, The Soaring Impulse, are stories of love, courage, and hope.

I know all too well the despair of feeling like I have no power, no way to influence and alleviate suffering. I don't have a lot of extra money. I can't go to Swaziland. Each time I think these thoughts, I remind myself that even when I don't have a coin or an hour, I have a voice. I can speak loving words; I can tell the truth; I can spread the word.

Please take a moment and visit Possible Dreams. Learn about this fledgling organization and the beautiful people they serve. They are love in action, a verb and a truth.

Spread the word.