Zoomer Chronicles: Gunnit!

     I confess, I am finding great pleasure in an unfamiliar source of aggression.  But...but...before you pass judgment, you must know the source--the reason.
     I do not own a gun.  I never will.  Yet, I DO Gunnit!
     When?
     Across intersections.  Up curb cuts.  Up skyway inclines.
     My very survival depends upon it.
     Gunnit!
     Gunnit is one word, contrary to what you may think.  With a walk signal lasting only a few seconds--with oncoming traffic--there is not a spare moment to waste.  No time--no space--for the space between two words.  The meaning is the same.  Gun it.  The urgency demands it,  Gunnit.
     Gunnit!  Joy the Joystick, Gunnit!
     The secret to my success--the key to greater confidence?  Gunnit.  At top speed--4--at the speed of a hare, success, and safety rule the day.  Practice.  Gunnit!
    At the lowest speed--1--at the pace of a turtle,  death comes in slow, excruciating motion.  Horns honk.  My heart pumps out of my chest.  I will be run over.  I will never get across the intersection.  The offering of the Hail Mary prayer does not have a prayer.
     Gunnit!  Joy the Joystick, Gunnit!

Zoomer Chronicles: Pacifism.

     Sunshine, and 66 degrees Fahrenheit are Minnesota callings to go outside.  The destination?  Outside.
     Inclines.  Curb cuts.  Intersections.  Curb cuts. Hills. Curb cuts. Sidewalk. Curb cut.  Home.
     Speed.  1?  Slow.  A snail's pace.  2?  Some UMPH to get over thresholds.  3?  Moderate speed.  A safe speed to avoid taking out anyone, who crosses my path.  4?  Indoor straightaways where no one else is in sight. 4?  Intersections.
     Torque.  A turtle's pace?  A hare's race?
      A turtle's pace?  My condominium walls--narrow openings.  Tight spaces.  Elevator doe-si-doing.
      A hare's race?  Intersections.  Inclines.
     My credibility is being challenged--my values tested.  I thought I was a pacifist.  No pleasure taken in being aggressive. No aggressiveness in my bones.  Or so I thought.
     The first day out,  each intersection was preceded by an offering of the Hail Mary prayer.  That and facial contortions to ensure a safe expedition--a safe arrival on the other side.
      I thought I was a pacifist.....But....
      Today.  Steep incline.  Sidewalk.  Curb cut.
     4....a Hare's Speed...Gun It!!!
     Safe landing.  Curb cut.
     4...a Hare's Speed...Gun It!!!
     Touchdown.  Sidewalk.  Curb cut.
     4...A Hare's Speed...Gun It!!!
     Sidewalk.  Curb cut.
     4...A Hare's Speed...Gun It!!!
      Intersection.
      4....A Hare's Speed...Gun It!!!
      Patty:  Gun It!!!
      Zoomer:  OK.  OK.  I'll Gun It, You Pacifist.

A Universalist Catholic

     I am a Universalist Catholic.  Being raised as a Universalist informs my Catholic being.
     In 29 years, my understanding of being Catholic has evolved.  Raised as a Universalist, more commonly referred to as a Unitarian, my basic orientation was different than it is now--not in opposition, but different.
     Catholic means universal.  For many years, I was timid in admitting, "I am a Catholic."  That proclamation was ladened with many stereotypes.  To say, "I am a Universalist Catholic," sounded as a contradiction of terms.  It is not.
     Just now, I am able to articulate a distinction that has been elusive to me.  By external terminology, the name Universalist-Unitarian Fellowship identifies the religion.  
    Faith is a term anthetical to many Universalists, or Unitarians.  I was raised to believe that intellect and faith were mutually exclusive.  I continue to discover how faith is informed by the intellect, and how the intellect is informed by faith.
     I did not know any Unitarian individuals by name.  Yet, I had a sense of a distinction between the two.  I am willing to be challenged as to my claims.  Yet, I resent attempts to engage in "gotcha" discourse in which  my knowledge is challenged as a means of discrediting me.  The first is possible.  The first is enlightening.  The first is engagement that broadens everyone involved. "Gotcha discourse" begins when someone asks what you know about a given person, term, or basic tenet central to faith and religion without any interest in broadening anyone's understanding.
    Being raised in the Universalist tradition, I was raised to believe that there is good to be found in all world religions--in all traditions.  Although I identify myself as Christian, and Catholic now, my belief that there is good to be found in all world religions--in all traditions--is strong.  It is alive and well within who I am, and how I pray I live in communion with family, and friends.
    Although I never knew an individual who identified themselves as Unitarians, I had a militant sense of what it meant to be a Unitarian.  Part of that sense was in the context of the time--the end of the 1960s in the midst of the Vietnam War.  I do not know if there was a Unitarian church in my area that was engaged in a vociferous protest of the Vietnam War.  The sentiment was certainly the same in the Universalist church community in which I was raised.  The distinction I sense may be Uni tarian versus trinitarian.  There was no way to intellectualize the Holy Spirit.  The notion of Holy Ghost was still alive and well casting white shadows over any understanding that may have existed.
   My return to my Universalist roots is inspired by a change in pastors, where I belong.  My approach to any announcement was cautious patience.  I wanted to wait until I met, and worshipped with the priest before making pronouncements about those in leadership, who are responsible for the naming.
   I am encouraged by what I have read and heard.  I do not want any excitement I feel cloud my experience of his preaching--of his pastoral care.  I want a keen ear, and an open heart to greet him--to greet how we come together in communion.
    Much has changed in 29 years.
    I entered the Catholic Church with clear values, and instructions.  Be intellectual.  Obey my admonitions.  "Don't keep your mind outside the door of the church."  "Know the meanings of the words you utter them."
   Twenty-nine years later, different values guide me.  I have not abandoned my intellect.
   I am guided by different voices.  Although the voices have no human faces visible to me, the message is clear.
  Don't let your mind consume awe--swallow wonder.
  Treasure each moment.
  Life is a gift.
  For better or for worse, life is a lesson to be learned--answers to be lived.