Category Archives: Community

One Detail

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When I dyed my hair purple for the first time five months ago, I did it for myself. I was turning 50, and I wanted to mark the occasion. Since that time, I’ve reapplied the dye three times. It starts out dark purple and fairly quickly fades to a fuchsia color. I knew it would make me stand out in a crowd. What I didn’t know was the good it would do.

I have only ever received compliments and sometimes rave reviews about my hair. Never a negative word. This comes from construction workers driving by, shouting out, “Love your hair!” And from grandmothers who touch my shoulder and smile and say the same thing. Little kids smile and ask why I have purple hair. I answer that I had a big birthday and wanted a party on my head. Adults also asked why I colored it. Sometimes I give them the straight answer; other times I say that I woke up on my 50th birthday, and my hair had turned purple. Last week in a museum restroom, as I washed my hands, a woman waiting said she loved my hair. She said, “It makes me happy!” Walking to school with Claire one morning, a young man passed us and said hi and “Love your hair.” I said thanks, and a few steps later he stopped and turned, adding “Your hair just made my morning.” I replied that I was happy to have been able to do that.

It’s an interesting experience for a fairly introverted person receive as much attention as I’ve gotten. It pleases me, of course, yet it also pulls me into the world, into connection with people, which I am often reluctant to do. But wait, there’s more! It seems as though having a colorful head does something else. It genuinely pleases others. It inspires joy in others. It adds a little color to the world. Goodness knows we can all benefit from more joy and color. I’ve jokingly said that it’s my ministry. One detail changed. So much good fun.

kathrynharper2

Overheard Yesterday

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As they waited to retrieve their children from school at day’s end, a few parents were talking about their children’s Halloween costumes. One mother said her daughter didn’t want to just wear the princess costume, because it was too plain. In her story, the daughter said, “Mommy, I want you to bedazzle it!” The woman said, “Honey, I don’t know what you mean by that. What does bedazzle mean?”

The mother laughed and continued, “Then she said Oh Mommy, put some bling-bling on it, and sparkles, and make it shine!” The adults chuckled and the mother added, “Heh, little whore!”

The child to whom she referred was her kindergartner. There were preschoolers present with the parents. And I thought… who taught this little girl about “bling-bling” and dazzle? Who is the gatekeeper for exposure to these ideas? And why would any parent refer to her child this way, even in jest? I felt sad for the little girl who, by wanting what she’d been taught to want, was judged for it — by her own mother, no less.

Steps

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Some more thoughts from my last post — a little progress report.

I met with the director of volunteers at the Hospice of the Valley. I came away with an internal tension. One one end, I feel the calling to work the the dying and the grieving. On the other is the rest of my life, which involves parenting a lively child just entering kindergarten, being on the PTA, and being involved in other projects. The training for volunteers working with patients is intensive. However, they do have a need for administrative support, and the training for that is easier for me to attend. So I’ve contacted her to ask a few questions about time commitments, and so on. I feel that Life is saying to me that one step in that direction is sufficient, and that it’s not time yet to delve further.

I’m on the waiting list to become trained as a SoulCollage facilitator at the next training. I hope I will get in. But then, if it doesn’t happen, it’s not the optimal moment.

I have several challenges ahead of me regarding the PTA at Claire’s school. There are a number of transitions occurring, and the incoming board (of which I’m a part) has less experience than the previous. Tending to the needs of fundraising and community building needs to be my focus.

We continue to attend the UU Fellowship in Los Gatos. I feel the path widening there, as though I’m entering a fulsome space of community.

I’ve been working in bits and pieces on transitioning my art supplies to the office.

And I continue to dwell in spacious curiosity.

Flow

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A whole month passed without a post, though I’d thought about it. I’ve been immersed in some personal work and stepping out into new areas that feel exciting. The depression has abated. I feel a need to write but am doing so with interruptions by my little girl and husband every so many minutes, so this post will be less polished.

We’ve been camping twice and will go again soon for the last summer trip. In June we went to Pfeiffer Big Sur, and in July we camped at Prairie Creek Redwoods. Our next trip is to Calaveras Big Trees. We like big trees and rivers a lot, and we like the ocean some. Camping is uncomfortable and requires more work, but it’s also relaxing and restful. My body aches in the morning from the less-than-ideal sleeping arrangement, but the peace I feel compensates. I am bathed in Being, in nature, in the Mystery; living outdoors brings complete contact with the world that creates itself.

After exploring the Quaker Society of Friends, I talked with Hub about where I’m at and what Claire wants. She wants to go to church. Hub was raised Unitarian Universalist and I attended as one years ago. It’s the best fit as far as spiritual community goes. Claire loved it the first time we visited two years ago. The Quaker group only had children’s program once a month, and unfortunately the one time I brought her no one else with children came, and there was no program. I realized, too, that I need and enjoy the ritual of a service. The Quaker service was traditional silent meeting with socializing after. The UU service includes the usual ingredients of a service: hymns, readings, sharing of joys and concerns, a sermon. Hub isn’t a seeker and doesn’t have the same community needs, but we came to the conclusion that the UU church is good for me and Claire. I attended the UU Fellowship in Los Gatos the past two weeks; both Claire and I enjoyed it, and the members are very welcoming.

I had a pilot zazen session on the first Saturday in July. I got cold feet and cancelled on the one person who’d signed up; then another friend last minute showed up. As I set up the small altar on my coffee table, it felt right, like putting on a perfectly fitting outfit. I also reached agreement with Hub that I will go to Hazy Moon Zen Center a couple times a year to attend sesshin and meet with my teacher.

I’ve continued attending salons called Intimacy With Truth, led by a dear friend. They occur in a format similar to Honesty Salons but move into deeper exploration within and between ourselves. I’m learning to listen to, trust, and speak from my intuition and truth. I’m also sitting with the idea of becoming trained to facilitate Honesty Salons or becoming a Getting Real Coach with Dr. Campbell.

I’m re-reading and incorporating the practice that Eckhart Tolle’s books explore. One thing I appreciate about his work is that he echoes my favorite quote, a koan I have cherished for years:

The secret is within your self. – Hui-Neng

Tolle claims that he’s not teaching anything that we don’t already have within us. His work is guidance to excavating it.

In conjunction, I’ve started to explore the process of healing offered by Al-Anon meetings.

After years of thinking about it, I attended a mixed-media collage Meetup at Lori Krein Studios. I immersed myself in the process and enjoyed it, as well as enjoyed the other people who attended. I’ll be going back.

This encounter with collage at the studio prompted me to rearrange my art supplies so they are stored in the same room as my work desk. Proximity will probably inspire more play!

I gathered my many small pieces of art into a binder, and I was astonished at the variety and amount. Seeing them all together gave me a surge of excitement to make more. A friend has suggested I have my own art show at home; I’m not ready to do that yet, but I’m ready to show and share from the binder.

I enrolled in a November training to learn a process called SoulCollage and to facilitate in groups. SoulCollage is a creative, meditative process of exploring one’s inner wisdom in all the ways it manifests. It’s rooted in Jungian psychology.

I’ve emphasized boundaries in certain relationships by limiting what I can listen to and discuss. The immersion in repeated stories about the problems of people I love when I cannot do anything to help was contributing to the depression.

Lastly, I’m contemplating becoming a volunteer at a hospice. For many years (since the mid-1990s) I’ve felt a pull toward it, and in 2004 I took steps in a parallel direction by training to provide grief support to survivors. It was the Centre for Living With Dying. However, my father-in-law was dying of cancer at the time, and I just didn’t have the energy to serve. Since that time the Centre was bought by another social service provider, and it seems they don’t use volunteers any more. But hospice does.

The call to hospice coincides with the sad news that a friend — Jen Bulik-Lang — who is only 35 is dying of stage-IV lung cancer. She began feeling ill in October 2012, and it took awhile for professionals to come to the correct diagnosis at the end of January 2013. She’d been shopping in December for engagement rings with her boyfriend, Jeffrey Lang. She got aggressive treatment, and there was hope they eradicated it, but in mid-June she received news it had metastasized to her spinal fluid. My insides quicken with grief and love as I watch her live with this news. She chose to celebrate life, and she and Jeff got married in a marvelous wedding. I admire Jen for embracing what is and fully experiencing it as a transformation with the faith, as she says, “that [it] will benefit the highest good for all those concerned.”

So in all, the shift in my life is toward community and participating in healing myself, others, and the world. As I wrote that last sentence my self-talk was, “Boy, that sounds lofty and new-Agey, and grandiose.” And yet… The world is broken and insane and aches for love.

harvest

Harvest / 9″ x 12″ mixed media collage on canvas

Sometimes a Retreat is an Advance

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I’d sunk into a swamp of depression. Why bother going? It was only overnight. I cancelled, one day too late to get a refund. So I went.

Nearly there, I found the road blocked. The tunnel said “Under construction.” What next? Go back home? Try to find another way and arrive late? No and no.

So I broke rules. I drove around the barricade and through the tunnel. There was no ditch to fall into, no rubble to hit. I arrived. I showed up.

Teacher saw me and leaped with joy – literally! She hugged me, and I began to cry. Twenty of us sat in slience; we walked in silence. Zazen is painful drudgery. But the tears subsided.

I sat. I counted my breaths. I walked. I ate. I slept. I met privately with my teacher.

Sick of being mom, managing my child? Then be an easy mother!
Lonely? Get out of the Internet echo chamber. Talk to a person.
Bored? Reflect on what resonates; listen for my voice.
Scared about new responsibility? Just show up. Do the next task.
Stop hiding in the house. The world is right here and now.

Later, walking on the beach alone, I found rusty rose starfish washed ashore. It fit the palm of my hand. It was alive! Waiting for a return ride on the tide.

Hello, friend.

I looked up. Saw a man. Decided this discovery was too good to keep to myself. So I went up to him and shared. And he smiled and marveled. And then I did it again, with a woman jogging. And again, with another woman!

Their eyes widened, awakened. They smiled with the joy of the encounter.

Hello, friend.
****************************

Words swept from my mind
Scatter like moths in the wind
Wave meets rock meets wave

seal rocks, or

The Meeting

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Oh, to sink into silence. To breathe. To wait.
No rituals, no incense, no chants, no words. Just silence
and a straight-backed wooden chair.

The silence is alive. Traffic zips down the highway.
Chairs creak. Birds gossip. Someone coughs or sniffs.
But if you really listen, you can hear the sunshine singing.

Sometimes the entire hour passes in silence. Other times
a few rise to speak, to share whatever they felt led
to share prompted by their discernment.

To wait in the Spirit, in Love, connecting with
and through each other. The tender embrace of silence.
Opening the door within. Welcome, quietude! Welcome.

After the hour someone shakes another’s hand,
signaling the end of silent worship; then handshakes
and smiles ripple through the room.

The invitation comes to share what we did not feel truly prompted
by the Divine to share in worship. Announcements are made.
An invitation is given to refreshments and conversation next door.

That is the Meeting of Friends.

garden chair

Ideas for Practicing Love

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Today, for whatever reason, I am feeling how we all struggle to be here. How much we need to love each other, and how we need to practice that love in deed and word. Once upon a time I struggled to meet my basic needs while working to reach some lofty goals. My life, through whatever process, has transformed into something full and comfortable. I want to remember not to abandon others and to pay it forward.

So I made a list of what I can do. I’m sure there are more, but this is what my first harvest produced:

  • Donate money to community agencies that provide supportive services for housing, food, and education. There are so many, and I cannot do them all. I selected Sacred Heart because I volunteered with them some years in the past, and their mission resonates with my heart.

    Sacred Heart Community Service is dedicated to bringing our community together to address poverty in Silicon Valley.

    Our vision is a community united to ensure that every child and adult is free from poverty.

    Our mission is to build a community free from poverty by creating hope, opportunity, and action. We provide essential services, empower people to improve their lives, advocate for justice, and inspire volunteers to love, serve, and share.

    Sacred Heart Community Service is an equal opportunity service provider. No person shall be excluded from services because of age, ancestry, color, national origin, race, religion, gender, sexual orientation, creed, marital status, disability, medical conditions, or veteran status.

  • If I have any, I can give my spare change to someone when they ask.
  • I can offer my change for a cash purchase toward the purchase by the customer in line behind me.
  • I can take the time to pay attention when someone is speaking, rather than thinking about my next turn.
  • I can listen to my child and empathize with her, rather than try to manage her through my agenda. (And apply this to all interactions with people.)
  • I can breathe, which helps me to slow down.
  • I can cease judging another person by his or her past actions and perceived failures.
  • I can give another person the benefit of the doubt and not personalize their behavior toward me if I perceive it as mean or rude.
  • I can let go of predictions about how situations will evolve and how people will behave.
  • I can remember to smile at people and say hello.
  • I can say I’m sorry when I have acted or spoken in a hurtful way.
  • I can empathize when someone is angry at me rather than leap to my own defense.

Can you think of ways to practice love? Please share your ideas.

Nothing Is Lost, Only Transformed

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God pours life into death and death into life without a drop being spilled.

-Author Unknown

Until I attended graduate school at St. Edward’s University, I didn’t know much about Dia de los Muertos. In 1997, after I’d left the fundamentalist non-denominational church I’d been with for years — and with it my entire social network — I struggled greatly with loneliness and depression. Thus I found myself sitting frequently in the Our Lady Queen of Peace chapel, trying to root myself.

On November 1, I discovered an altar covered with painted skulls, candles, photos, and flowers. A number of people gathered, including Dr. Edward Shirley, Professor of Religion and Theological Studies. He led a meditation and gave a little talk about the meaning of this day. I remember at one point asking, “Is it possible to miss someone you never knew?” I was thinking about my maternal grandmother and paternal grandfather; both died long before I was born. Ed answered that yes, he thought so.

After that introduction, I got to know him and spent time talking with him. He was one of the most loving people I’d encountered. His laugh was infectious. His presence was healing. His friendship and guidance were a balm and ballast for me at this time of transition. He accepted people wherever they were at; at that point I was an atheist, certain that traditional Christianity was not my path. I searched for a way to connect with the universe and to find a vocabulary to voice this connection. It was Ed who called my attention to Buddhism.

Ed died suddenly in mid-August, leaving behind a devastated family and community of friends. His impact in the world was deep, and he was much loved. I miss his presence in this world, but his departure brought me to a threshold of understanding what Zen Buddhists call Big Mind.

So, in honor and remembrance of Ed, I offer this tribute on the day that brought us together.

shirleyobit_1541400c

Let children walk with Nature, let them see the beautiful blendings and communions of death and life, their joyous inseparable unity, as taught in woods and meadows, plains and mountains and streams of our blessed star, and they will learn that death is stingless indeed, and as beautiful as life.

-John Muir

The Most Beautiful Thing

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The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and science. He to whom this emotion is a stranger, who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead: his eyes are closed. This insight into the mystery of life, coupled though it be with fear, has also given rise to religion. To know that what is impenetrable to us really exists, manifesting itself as the highest wisdom and the most radiant beauty which our dull faculties can comprehend only in their most primitive forms— this knowledge, this feeling, is at the center of true religiousness. In this sense, and in this sense only, I belong in the ranks of devoutly religious men.

I cannot imagine a God who rewards and punishes the objects of his creation, whose purposes are modeled after our own—a God, in short, who is but a reflection of human frailty. Neither can I believe that the individual survives the death of his body, although feeble souls harbor such thoughts through fear or ridiculous egotism.

It is enough for me to contemplate the mystery of conscious life perpetuating itself through all eternity, to reflect upon the marvelous structure of the universe which we can dimly perceive, and to try humbly to comprehend even an infinitesimal part of the intelligence manifested in nature.

—Albert Einstein

On Routines and Union

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Now the same acts drew up the ties between them, put them back together, as though shaping the world from scratch. As they worked, they put the sky in place above, the trees in the ground. They invented color and air and scent and gravity. Laughter and sadness. They discovered truth and lies and mock-lies — even then, Essay played the oldest joke there was to play, returning a stick past him as if he were invisible, cantering sideways, tossing it about in her mouth as if to ask, it’s all play, really, isn’t it? What else matter when there’s this to do?

–David Wroblewski, The Story of Edgar Sawtelle