I Can't Remember When....

Most people lament, "I remember when..." with the delusion that those words spoken may turn back the clock to a different time.  Frequently, this is spoken regarding a job--a bad, boring job.  For many, many years I worked in a job from which I felt that my full potential was not being employed.
As many years as vehemence flowed constantly, I cannot remember that feeling.  I do not want to be taken back to that time.
In 2009, I had to stop working.  I have been known to say, "My get up and go got up and went."  Essential tremors and osteoarthritis allied with the well-entrenched cerebral palsy, and her silent partner, epilepsy to execute a "successful" coup d'etat over life as I knew it.  In 2009, I could not fathom the notion that I might live without working in the paid workforce.
Every 18 months or so, I must submit myself to an external reexamination of my incapacity to return to the workforce--a reverse performance review, if you will.  I am not a submissive person.  For now I must be.
Every 18 months or so, I must return to four humbling questions:
1. Has there been a change in your condition in the last 18 months?
2. If  "Yes" please describe the specific change or changes?
3. Please list all of the types of activities that you do during the course of a typical day.  What do you do from the time you arise in the morning until you retire at night?  Do you require assistance?
4. Please place the number shown next to the statement that most accurately reflects your ability/inability to perform each of them:
(1) I can perform this activity independently
(2) I can perform this activity with the use of equipment or adaptive devices
(3) I cannot perform this activity
      a.  Dressing
      b.  Toilet
      c.  Feed yourself with food that has been prepared and made available to you

            d.  Voluntary bladder and bowel control or ability to maintain a reasonable level of personal hygiene

e.         e.  Bathe (tub, shower, or bath)

            f.  Transfer from bed to chair

     On the one hand, there are many reasons why it seems that I should not make the confession I do now, I must submit to this confession.  As easy as it may seem to some to be hereto submissive, let me set the record straight.  It is not.  I understand the need.  Yet it is not easy.  

    I seek no dramatic persona.  Purely and simply I am brought to my knees whenever these questions are set before me.  The first time I faced these questions, they were excruciating.  These are not questions that elicit dignity.  These questions redefine what honesty must be--what the honesty of daily life is.  Try as I will to soften the blow, each time these questions bring me to my knees.

     My concept of someone who is no longer able to be in the paid workforce is that they are bedridden.  Yet, I am not.  

     I live within my limits working with what remains--an important part of those limits is that I cannot employ my body in the paid workforce.  

     I cannot remember when I worked by the time and revenue demands of a large corporation.  

     I pray I may work my way through this reexamination with honesty, integrity, and my dignity intact.  When can I nap?  Where is the Breyer's?

Driven to a Healthy Pondering

     The U.S. Supreme Court is hearing arguments regarding the 2010 Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act.  Some call it, "Obamacare."  I cannot--I will not--stoop to that level.
     I have simple questions.  Health insurance.  Auto insurance.
     Tell me.  Drivers must purchase automobile insurance in order to drive an automobile.  Is that correct?
     I am not a licensed automobile driver.  I want to ensure my facts are correct.  If my statements are not correct, I welcome being corrected.  The truth is more important than my ego.
     I have simple questions.  Auto insurance.  Health insurance.
     Much ado is being made regarding the personal mandate portion of the act--the requirement that everyone purchase health insurance.  I confess.  I have stopped listening.  My mental well-being is more important than my civic responsibility to be an informed voter.  Listening to every last argument regarding an issue is no longer my definition of what it means to be a good citizen.
     Tell me.  Is there a parallel to be drawn between the requirement to purchase auto insurance, and the personal mandate requirement that every individual purchase health insurance?
     Tell me.  Is the purpose of auto insurance to provide financial remuneration, and protection to automobile  drivers in the case of an accident?
     Tell me.  Why is no one raising these questions?
     Tell me.  Why is no one offering this parallel in defense of the personal mandate case?
     Tell me.  Why is hyperbole valued more than reason, logic, calm, and integrity?
     Tell me.  When will it be safe to listen without fear of hyperbole hijacking reason?
     Tell me.  Is there a parallel to be drawn between the requirement to purchase auto insurance, and the personal mandate to purchase health insurance?
     Tell me.  Do I understand the basic premise of auto insurance?
     Tell me.  Is there a parallel to be drawn between auto insurance and the personal mandate to buy health insurance?
     Tell me.  I am listening.  Tell me.

PeaceNext...Intimate...Self-Disclosure...

     During the 1960s, long before the advent of the World Wide Web, and social media, my parents involved our family in a foreign exchange program of social workers--the Twin Cities International Program--TCIP.  Mom and Dad served as a host family to Knut from Denmark, Ilsa from Austria, Jun Bok from South Korea, and a man, whose name I believe was Daniel.  These three  men and one woman stayed with us during four years before I was ten.  Knut seemed old to me, although he was probably 50:) Mature may be a more apt description than old.  He was tall with balding light brown hair.   I remember he gave me a book of Hans Christian Anderson's fairy tales.  I think Mom and Dad still have the book.  It has been many years since I have read the book.  It is fairly small book with an ivory cover, and a picture on the front cover.  Then there was Ilsa.  Her father carved wood.  Mom and Dad still have a shallow wooden plate with the names of my parents, my brother, sister, and me, carved around the edge.  My parents have it mounted on the wall at the top of the bookshelves in their library.  I can think of no more treasured symbol of our family.  I do not remember much about Daniel, other than that he was from Italy.  Jun Bok.  Ah yes, Jun Bok.  He was a borderline operator--definitely a character.  He gave my parents at least one bottle of tabasco sauce.  More memorable was his observation of my dad trying to assemble a new Weber grill.  Dad  was having the difficulty inherent to any item with the instructions, "Some assembly required."  After watching Dad struggle for quite some time, Jun Bok said, "American technology.  Nothing works."  Jun Bok returned to South Korea many years ago.  I do not know what has happened to him.  Yet his words live on in my memory.
     Each of the individuals we hosted, in addition to individuals from all around the world--not just Europe and Asia--who visited our home and attended a number of pool parties my parents hosted broadened my childhood horizons.  Although I have not kept up with any of the individuals--a sad reality of life--I do bring from that experience openness to, and individuals from other countries.
    I treasure the perspectives I have been given when I have spent time with individuals from other countries while at home, or when I have visited other countries.  I will always remember with great fondness the conversations I had with a number of individuals from Norway while I spent nine days as a graduate school course.  The  Norwegians I met apologized to me  for their poor English speaking skills.  Such was not the case.  My understanding of Norwegian was rudimentary at best.  Yet, my love of the country--the fjords, the brisk air--is difficult to describe.
    Now I find my connections to individuals in other countries through the World Wide Web--through e-mail, and social media.  A skeptical eye is given to  social media.  I would warn against brandishing all social media outlets on the basis of how some individuals on some sites choose to use the sites.
    PeaceNext.  I am an incorrigible pacifist.  Some say pacifist is synonymous with weakness, in a pejorative sense.  I beg to differ.  My interest in ecumenism led me to the PeaceNext website.  The subtitle following the "PeaceNext" website title says, "Council for a Parliament of World Religions."
    How, as someone raised to believe that there is good to be found in all world religions, could I pass up the opportunity to explore a network committed to integrity in nurturing constructive dialogue.  Slowly I find myself open to friendship from around the world.
    Some hesitate to engage in online networks of any form due to concerns for security, or personal disclosure.  Others hesitate to engage in discussions of religion--it is too personal.  Well....On one level--on an intellectual level--I understand.  I respect the right of other individuals to not so engage.
   Yet....yet....I cannot follow suit.  It was not until this moment that I understood why.  I am not a Bible-thumping woman on the street corner trying to force beliefs down people's throats.  I try to be more subtle than that.
    Long before I understood the intellectual nuances--the spiritual dimension--of engaging in social communities rooted in integrity, such as PeaceNext, I was confronted with the reality of bodily engagement.  Not physical combat.  No.  Misunderstanding of my bent right arm, and my limping right leg led my peers to tease me.  Kids mimicking my bent right wrist of my face was, "Palsy Patty."  I was called to make myself understood--to make myself palatable in the eyes of people who met me.
    No one may endanger me.  My exterior is deceiving.  As my sister says of me, "I don't worry about Patty out on the streets, I worry about the people who encounter her."
     My life calls me to unequivocal self-disclosure.  If I do not share of myself--if I do not reach out to other people-what am I living to do?  I am called to find opportunities, such as PeaceNext, and other in-person, and online forums for the sharing of diverse perspectives dedicated to deeper understanding, and transformation.

Words. Abbreviated. Language. Corrupted.

     Obamacare.  "Ronnie Ree gun."  Pro-life.  Pro-abortion.  Romney-care.

     I am not a fan of  any of these words.  Corruption of words.  These four phrases are not political statements of my beliefs.  Not at all.

     Abbreviation of words.  Corruption of language.

    I value health care.  I am not opposed to Obama's health care programs.  "Obamacare" obliterates the reasons--the objections--people who use the phrase have.  Romney-care is nothing more than a knee-jerk reaction--an attention-getting word created specifically to express objection.

     Obstruction of justice.  Obamacare.  No, I don't mean "Obamacare" program is an obstruction of justice.  Obstruction of justice?  The term "Obamacare" obstructs the ability to revisit areas, which may be problematic in the execution of the statutes.  If Senators, and/or Representatives want to propose any provisions to correct unintended consequences of the program, their efforts are hindered by the emotionally-explosive term, "Obamacare."  O falls into the same pitfalls as does "Obamacare."

     Abbreviation of language.  Corruption of words.

   "Ronnie Ree' gun."  My elders have referred to President Ronald Reagan as, "Ronnie Ree' gun."  Contrary to the pronunciation the President preferred during his political career, "Ronald Ray' gun."  My sense  is that he may have used the previous pronunciation during his movie career.  If that is true, that does not forgive a "Ronnie Ree' gun." moniker being ascribed.  Those who know me know that I am not a Ronald Reagan-apologist.  I abhor name-calling.

     I do not feel particularly effective in affirming my convictions.  I pray my convictions will be heard without full benefit of my clearly-expressed thoughts and words.

    Abbreviation of words.  Corruption of language.

    Pro-life.  Pro-abortion.  Pro-choice.  Anti-choice.

    Abbreviation of words.  Corruption of language.  

   I intend no discussion of the issue of abortion.  Many people on both sides of the issue are far better advocates than I could ever be, or aspire, if I were so inclined.

    Life.  Abortion.  Choice.  Respect.

    Broad scope.  Vast intent.

    I treasure life.  Abortion has never visited my door.  I cannot speak from experience, or invest my precious energies in fighting for or against an issue with which I have no experience.  My life has given me a well-spring of experience to which I feel called to advocate.  I revere life.  I value choice.  I have made many choices, which are at the core of my past, current, and future life.  I have deep respect for each human being I have met, know, love, and  will  never know.

    Yet, I cannot distill my beliefs, simplify my convictions into nicknames, and slogans.  My convictions exceed the tight spaces afforded by abbreviated language.  My beliefs deserve more deliberation than nicknames, and abbreviated language afford. 

   Whatever the word, the language, or cause may be, may we abide by the treasure of life, the chalice from which our choice is poured, and the revere what respect deserves.   This is my prayer.

Changes of Worship

     In college, my political science advisor instructed us to begin with the primary source documents, rather than secondary analyses on any given subject.  He was not dismissive of the value secondary sources provide.  Yet, he advised that any quest for information begin with primary source materials.
     Such might be said of the upcoming revisions to the Catholic Mass.   Deafening analysis of the changes is being given before the changes have been implemented.
     Much is being spoken of the changes that will take place in the Catholic liturgy, before we have an experience of how we will live the changes.  Honestly, I do not know what it will mean to live the changes.  I do not have the requisite experience to reflect on how change of the Mass I celebrate will change me.
     Will it damage me?  Will it diminish my spirituality?  Will it destroy me?
     Liberals are quick to say that religious conservatives, who hold on to the words, and practices of the past, are damaging, diminishing, and destroying the Catholic Church by their resistance.  I question that.  Rather, I wonder.  As a liberal, is there any room within the upcoming changes to enrich my spiritual life--to enrich our communal spiritual life?
     I was raised by a father, who experienced rote Catholicism.  I entered a Church far different from the one he left.  Since 1982, I have been blessed by a wide variety of vibrant faith communities.  The closest I came to the Church my father left was my time at a small, traditional Catholic parish several blocks from my home.  Although I did not experience vibrancy in much of my time there, I remember with fondness the gift the Irish priest gave each Sunday.
     Father Philip nurtured in me a personal bond to God.  How?
     Children of God, was his invitation.  I shudder to think of the foundation I had, when I met him each Sunday.  Any intellectual foundation I might have had needed to be instructed--seasoned.
     Father Philip's beaming smile, and his deep faith were his invitations.  His deep faith was his prayer for mercy.
     Forgive us of any skepticism--distrust--of the motives of other people.
     Those were not his precise words.  Yet, that was the message that I heard.
      I did not embrace many of his words.  Most of what he said is lost to my memory.  Yet, I treasure the personal bond he nurtured.
     People of God.
     I needed years of instruction, much seasoning, before I was worthy of being invited to, "People of God."

     I remember earlier experiences going to Mass on campus.  I was deeply moved by the weekly exchange, "Peace be with you."

     It took me many years to be comfortable with the fullness of the exchange, "May the peace of Christ be with you."  My faith--my understanding--was not deep enough to extend myself in that manner.  I needed tremendous mercy before I was able to affirm, "May the Peace of Christ be with you."
     A friend, who was a child during the 1950s, and embraces the Catholic Church that Vatican II has nurtured, offered a telling observation.
     "Well, it is back to the 1950s."
     I do not have the credibility that living in the 1950s Catholic Church affords.  I pray her words may be an invitation, rather than a eulogy.
      I do not know what her experiences were.  I was born in 1960.  I was raised as a Universalist, some say Unitarian.
      With that said, I pray.
       May we listen to the words we utter.  May we breathe the changes that will be ushered into the Catholic Mass.  May we exhale the cynicism that some meet the changes.  May we come to the changes attentive to the nuances they might offer to us.
     I am not an apologist for the changes that Advent will bring.  I do not know enough to be so.  I welcome the challenge to discover the nuances--to uncover the pearls of wisdom--that the changes might offer.

Being a Follower

     I have never considered myself to be a mindless follower.  The appointment of a priest new to our parish community last July put that to a test.  I was not familiar with the priest by name, although most everyone else seemed to be.  I did not know what to expect.

     Fears before the appointment were that a very conservative priest would be assigned to our parish community.  I did not engage myself in the fear.  I had a choice.  I vetoed the worship of doom. I feared the tailspin such engagement might engender in me more than I did the appointment of a conservative priest.  Not for any high-minded reason.  I could not afford to do so.

     The tension between fear and physical health is greatly underrated.   Physical calm.  Breathe in.  Breathe out.  Physical calm. 

     With the July, 2011 announcement all fears were allayed.  So would seem the end of the story.  The liberal...no...the spirit of engagement--engagement of the mind, spirit, and Body--would continue.  Case closed.

     Well...not so fast...

     The priest joined the community--the priest became pastor to our community.

     Whew!  We are safe.

     Well...not so fast...

     Symbolic of the affection for the new priest is a woman, who was a member of the previous parish to which our priest pastored.  Some refer to her as a "groupie."  I have not met her.  I know little more than the back of her head.  Yet, she came in hopes of hearing the words, and receiving Holy Communion from this priest.  After she satisfied that hunger, she left.  Or so it seems.

     It is easy to scorn her.  Tempting to say, "Move forward.  Welcome the priest, who pastors your parish now."

     Well....not so fast...

     Hospitality is not closing the door on someone on the basis of geographic boundaries.  Our parish is enriched immeasurably by the geographic diversity that is the fabric of our community.  

     The "groupie" puts a question to me, "Are you listening to all of his words, and attending to all of his pastoral actions?"  Or, "Are you getting up, walking out, and closing your ears and eyes to what you do not want to see or hear?"

    It is tempting to do nothing more than "Like" what he, or anyone else in the Church, or community might say, in order to be in good standing.  Yet, I find myself trying not to end with a Like link click, but, trying to begin with the Like link, and seeing where it leads me.

     Where do I take it?  What do I do with it? 

Avenging Death

     Can you help me?  Math never has been my strong suit.  Can you help me?
     What is the sum of the following equation:
      Number of People Killed in the September 11th Attacks x Terrorists Involved= ???
     How many terrorists must be killed in order to avenge--inflict harm in return for (an injury or wrong done to oneself or another)--the deaths of any act of terrorism, or war?
     Are we so caught up in justified grief that we are willing to engage in ill-defined actions of retribution?
     CBS News is one organization of the Fourth Estate, who has used the phrase, "US hit list" to describe the strategy used to fight terrorism.  What does that strategy say regarding the model democracy patriotic Americans strive to present to the rest of the world?  Does that strategy speak with integrity?
     I am not someone who can quote chapter and verse of the Bible.  Innumerable problems have resulted from that practice.  With that said, I offer for your consideration the passage from Exodus 21:23-26:
     But if injury ensues, you shall give life for life,
     Eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot,
     Burn for burn, stripe for stripe,
                                                  Exodus: 21: 23-26                                                
    I am not a biblical scholar, I have tremendous difficulty with how the term "patriot" is used in common parlance.  I am at peace with how the term "pacifist" is defined.  So much so that I describe myself as a pacifist.
    Do those facts disqualify me?  Do those facts strip me of any credibility, and integrity my conclusions might have?
     I hope not.
     Is it plausible that families of terrorists pursue peaceful endeavors?  What would the effect of avenging death have on the families of terrorists?  Are all family members committed to engaging in acts of terrorism?
     I have so many questions.
     Can you help me to understand?

You are an Inspiration

     Many times, I have heard news features that say, "She is an inspiration."  
     I do not mean to denigrate good intentions.  I offer alternative intentions.
     Inspiration is a noun, which is derived from inspire.
     -ation is a suffix used to form abstract nouns from verbs.  It is sad.  To abstract the potency of inspire is sad.
      To say, "You are an inspiration to me," does not offer the hope that action will be taken.
      I accept the compliment.  I celebrate when I--when anyone--may stimulate anyone to leaven the gifts they have been invited to offer.
      I wonder.  What would the world be if each of us--if all of us--accepted the invitation to fully engage our gifts?

Civic Responsibility

     More and more, as time goes on, I find myself much less ardent in my advocacy for a given cause.  Although if called to label myself politically, I would describe myself as liberal, that does not suffice to describe my perspective.  I am far more ardent an advocate for civility, respect, pragmatism, and civic engagement.
     I am a resident of St. Paul, Minnesota.  As such, I witnessed an irresponsible government shutdown.  Irresponsible--the negotiation strategies employed, rather than any of the facts that resulted in the shutdown warrant irresponsible.  Time elapsed.  Compromise prevailed.  Now, the Minnesota State government is open, and operational now.  I was not affected directly.  I am a friend of a state employee.  I am a citizen of Minnesota.  Yet, on a day-to-day basis, the shutdown did not have a short-term impact on me.
     Civic responsibility.  The debt ceiling negotiations.  I am not an economist.  I do not play one on television.  I am a citizen of the United States.  I am a recipient of SSDI.  Neither of these elements of me may have any part in the debt ceiling negotiations.  Yet, both elements lead me to reflection.
     Many people are heard to say, "throw the bums out!" in relation to officeholders, who vote for a given piece of legislation, or a given political persuasion.  I am not so inclined.  I vote on the basis of the current needs at Election Day, and the needs I perceive for the future.  I do not vote for a given political candidate as a vote against the opposing candidate.  Such an approach does not give anyone the mandate he or she needs to govern.  I do not engage in name-calling with regard to a given officeholder, candidate, or political movement.  To do so dilutes my integrity, credibility, and influence for my convictions.
     Principled pragmatism.
     Typical  of many college students, I was an idealist.  I was a passionate advocate for issues of personal interest, knowledge, and understanding.  Had life been perfect, I would have pursued paid work promoting the awareness of disabilities.
      With time--with the realities of career disappointments, among other factors--I became more of a pragmatist.  College ideals gave way to the need for a job, health insurance, among other things.
      Recently, I have listened with disgust to the individuals engaged in the debt ceiling debate.  Participants are so firmly entrenched in their principles that there is no room for compromise--for pragmatism.
     Principles and pragmatism need not be diametrically opposed.  In fact, they are intimates.  Principles are the starting point from which negotiations regarding any debate.  Yet, at the point that listening, understanding, pragmatism, and compromise are left out of the discourse, principles--however genuinely held they may be--lose their credence.
     Civic Responsibility.  Principles.  Listening.  Understanding.  Listening.  Pragmatism.  Compromise.  Principled Pragmatism.  Civic Responsibility.   These need not be complicated undertakings.  These are worthy of celebration.  When they prevail, we may inhale civility's breath.

Geography of Respect for Life

     I am perplexed by the geography of "respect for life."
     Affirmation seems to come too easily--what is one's positions on abortion, the death penalty, commitment of military forces to quell upheaval, and wars against humanity, as well as support for killing a despot, who orchestrated those wars?  Less immediate, although no less important are those who engage in the birther movement, and political rancor over so many issues--health care, and the federal budget, most notable to me.
     Cries for support of "respect for life" are usually singular proclamations, "I am pro-life," or "I am pro-choice."  Little more needs to be said, or so it seems.  I have never been faced with that question in my own life.  I have not known anyone closely, who has been faced with that situation.
     The death penalty.  I have known no one, who has confronted the death penalty.
     Most poignant to me seems to be the unabashed affirmation of killing despots--Osama Bin Laden, and Gadhafi come to mind.  There seemed to be great satisfaction, and accomplishment felt, when Saddam Hussein was killed.  I may be wrong, but in each of these cases, the satisfaction felt is an affirmation, "By the death of this individual, we have rooted out all evil from our lives.  We shall live in paradise from this day forward," or something to that effect.  This unabashed affirmation is the plateau of Respect for Life's Geography.
    Was there a birther movement prior to the presidency of Barack Obama?  If so, when?  Who was, or were the individual(s) targeted? If birthers were to prove their accusations, how would their priorities regarding the future of our society be changed--advanced?  I am of two minds.
   I have my own beliefs regarding the birther movement.  I shall share them shortly.  Yet, before I do so, I must be clear.  My questions are meant to imply no cynicism.  Are there more constructive means by which to address the doubts as to whether Barack Obama was born in the United States?  Is anyone, who is in the birther movement, proclaiming "respect for life" as one of their values?  Do they offer their thoughts as to how these two are reconciled within their value system?  With all due respect, I have not heard the juxtaposition of these beliefs expounded upon, or explored.
     The health care debate is one that I hope has ended.  I believe essential issues, and questions were at stake.  Yet, the tenor of the debate was not conducive to thoughtful, deliberative discourse.  The decibel level of the debate exceeded my tolerance level.  Guilty though I felt as someone who values my citizenship, my mental health was more important.  I needed to value my own mental health, if I expected anyone else do so. I needed to respect my own life, if I had any hopeful expectation that others might respect their own lives, and the lives of other human beings.
     I do not look forward to the Medicare debate.  Discourse regarding its future--how to strengthen it--is essential.  Yet, I fear that the decibel level will rival that of the health care debate.
     I shudder to use "respect for life," for fear that I am corrupting the phrase to bring integrity to my beliefs.
I pray that my affirmation, "I have a commitment to "respect for life," is understood with the full complexity with which it is lived.
     If profiled in traditional terms, I would be identified as a woman raised as a Universalist, who is now a Catholic.  I am a pro-choice woman, who opposes the death penalty in regard to any criminal offense.  I am a pacifist.  I take no satisfaction in, nor do I understand why it is thought that killing any despot will eliminate evil.  Yet, that profile of my beliefs does not reflect the texture---the complexity--of my commitment to "respect for life."
     I pray each of us who utters, "respect for life" does so with thoughtfulness--with reverence.  May we respect the convictions of others', whose convictions differ from our own.

Belittlement. Respect for Life.

     Once again, this afternoon, belittlement reared its ugly head, or so it felt.  I try to live with respect for different religious perspectives than my own--there is good to be found in all world religions.  I try to resist temptation--the temptation to be defensive--to say, "don't you know me well enough to know the serious reflection I bring to living a life of faith?"
     Ironically, a discussion of "respect for life,"--mutual sadness that the breadth of the term does not seem to be a part of its use--led to the derivation of the story of Maundy Thursday, and the actual events of the story.
Our agreement regarding the narrow use of "respect for life" in some discussions was missed.  A precious opportunity was missed.
    Taking biblical stories literally, or symbolically became a "gotcha" moment.  My antenna went up.  "Quick, an attempt of entrapment is forthcoming."
    I succumb to defensiveness.  "Many Catholics take a broader view.  Not every Catholic view 'respect for life' narrowly."  A defensive volley was lobbed back at me--reference to those who do have "a simple faith--a simplistic Catholic view."
    I grieve.  I mourn.  Three people of integrity.  Trapped in different ages of the same Church.  Pushed away...Drawn into...a Universal Church.  Different faces.  The same heart.
    There is good to be found in all faith traditions.  "Affirm, defend and promote the supreme worth and dignity of every human [being].  I mourn.  All three are members of the Universal church.
     "Support the free and disciplined search for truth..."  Though packaged differently, at the core, Universalist, and Catholic search for truth with the same depth of commitment.
     There are differences--important differences.  I mourn.  Yet, in my mourning, I question--do important differences preclude unity?  Do important differences preclude a unified pursuit for truth made the stronger by the diverse perspectives of the same truth?  Do the important differences preclude embracing the truth in Paul's words to the Corinthians?
    "So faith, hope, love remain, these three; but the greatest of these is love."

Free Speech and Name-Calling

     Just now, someone commented on the burning of the Koran.  Evidently, on April 18, 2011, Andrew Ryan--a former English soldier--was sentenced to 70 days in jail for burning the Koran.  The commentator said that he understood, and defended the right of free speech, yet, something to effect that this idiot needed to be stopped from his action of burning the Koran.
     I do believe in the freedom of religion.  As a citizen of the United States, I did not face any action from the American government--state, federal, or local--when I changed my religious affiliation from Universalism/Unitarianism to Christianity.  When I joined the Catholic Church, I did not fear any adverse action from the government.  Concerns I had with regard to my actions--my affirmations--related to individuals, not to the government of my native land.
     I do believe in freedom of speech.  I am enriched by sharing ideas with people, whose ideas differ from my own.  If we are open to being enlightened, both of us will grow from the free exchange of ideas.  I am a native-born U.S. citizen.  I have never been faced with the choice of affirming my allegiance to a country external to my birth.  So, in some ways, I feel less qualified to speak as someone who appreciates fully the right to speak freely--to speak freely without suffering retribution from my government.  Technology is a partner with freedom of speech that makes this blog, and many other blogs viable forms of expression.  I do appreciate that opportunity.  No, it is a guilty pleasure:)
     Yet, as strong as my commitment is, I cannot reconcile the acceptability of name-calling.  I abhor it.  No amount of commitment to free religious belief, or free speech gives license to any name-calling.  It just doesn't.   Whether the name-calling be done to the face of the individual or group being targeted, neither is acceptable.  Neither form of name-calling is moral, just, ethical, or humane.  Many people refer to respect for life, and never consider name-calling to be subject to standards of human decency.   I am a very open-minded, reasonable, and rational individual.  I am open to compromise on most everything else.  Yet, name-calling is not open to compromise.   If I arrive at the precipice of name-calling, then I am being called to make amends with the soon-to-be target of any name-calling.
     If I were to resort to name-calling, then I would be missing the opportunity to transform my venom into passionate advocacy for an issue or individual being denigrated.  I cannot commit myself to name-calling.  I cannot avoid opportunities to serve as an advocate.

A Decibelic, Hyperbolic Fast

     Lent in the Catholic Church is a time of fasting.  Food.  The only form of fasting seems to be food.  With tremendous guilt, I have resisted the admonition to fast.  I felt that to fast for a short period of time with the full knowledge that returning to the old ways defeated the purpose.  My understanding of fasting was to commit to a different long-term behavior that would contribute to living with greater commitment--with greater integrity.
     Yet, I have been offered more palatable forms of fasting to which I may be committed--to which I may will it so.  The U.S. budget debate is one offering of the inspiration to be differently committed.  My objective is to find reasonable, and logical options to participate in the debate.  I do not mean in the form of legislative proposals, or policies.  That is not where my life is centered, such that I could offer any worthy contribution.  As a child, I thought that listening to television news on a religious basis was the solution to be informed, if not directly involved.  When I left the work world, I committed myself to listening to television news as I distracted myself from personal issues beyond my control.
     As the decibel level of debate increases, fasting needs redefinition in my life.  Television news is comfortable white noise.  It does provide a marvelous front row seat to history--to Tahrir Square, most notably.  Condemning all of television news is just as bad as watching news comprised solely of hyperbole, and vitriol.
     Fasting, in my life, will be a commitment to avoid mindless listening to the vitriolic news I identify.  Fasting is a commitment to silence--to intimacy with her.  Fasting is a commitment to music to cleanse my mind of the noise around me--to direct my mind toward more constructive ideas, and perspectives that I may offer.

Honesty. Humility. Integrity.

     Personal indignation and corporate humility intersected today.
     I believe firmly that experiences I share in my writing are by no means my sole province.  My hope is to illuminate what is common within us, that we might be comfortable to explore what we have been unknown to us, or too threatening to confront.  I use the pronoun we intentionally.  When I begin writing any post to this blog, I do not know what my conclusion will be.  What I do know is that I am called to be reflective.  I endeavor to heed that call with a keen ear--I listen for unresolved issues.
    Today I told the medical vendor I have been working with for three and a half months that he WOULD tell me the delivery time of my wheelchair within the next 24 hours.  I was not saying that I wanted to know when the delivery time would be.  As uncharacteristic as it is of me, I did not equivocate.  I declared my needs.  My threshold for delay had been surpassed.  My patience for a wheelchair was spent.  My heart raced.  Yet, my ankle received her due advocacy today.
     I am a peaceful person.  I live my days in reason, logic, and compassion.   Often, I put on a happy face on less than happy realities.  Some of my happy face is important to a positive outlook--mental health.  Yet, when I overdue happy face, I deserve the moniker given to many in the State of Minnesota, where I live.  Overdone happy face makes me eligible for Minnesota Nice.
    Today's events--today's interactions--were as far from Minnesota Nice as I get.  Within four hours of my first phone call with the medical vendor, I had two messages from him confirming that delivery will take place tomorrow.  As uncustomary as my assertions were, I achieved my goal.
     I learned about corporate humility today.  The medical manufacturer is sending a letter of apology to the vendor for all of the mixups--the omission of a joystick on my wheelchair.  I do not know that I can take any credit for inspiring the corporate letter of apology.  Without having too inflated a sense of myself, I did convey on numerous occasions the seriousness of my need.
    I well may never know the precise contribution I may have had in the communications regarding the acquisition of my wheelchair.  None of us may know the precise contribution we make in our daily communications.  Yet, what we can control is to communicate with integrity.  We must communicate our needs honestly--without exaggeration of content.  We must not affirm our needs with increased decibel levels.    The higher the decibel level of our speech, the more likely it is that our affirmations are false.
     May each of us, and all of us speak with honesty, humility, and integrity.  May we ever be cognizant of the fragility of making amends within our daily lives.
     This is easy to say.  I know that whatever the degree of commitment to these beliefs, I will fall short of sustaining them.

Spiritual Divorce???

     Several hours of love, spiritual commitment, and celebration of our lives' joys and sorrows leads me to wonder regarding the future of our worshipping community.  An Archdiocesan action may well result in a change of priests.
     I cannot respond in anger, submissiveness, hostility, or cynicism.  I responded to spiritual vacancy quite early in my adult life by converting to Christianity from Universalism.  I did not abandon my Universalist roots.  They inform my Christian life.  Twenty-nine years after my conversion, I cannot go back.  I cannot live by my intellect, logic, and reason alone.  Faith is essential to my life.  I have been spoiled by the integrity of the Catholic parishes--the Catholic worshiping communities in which I have lived.
    I have experienced the closing of one campus worshiping community due to an Archdiocesan action approximately eleven years ago.  Though painful, I am much stronger--much richer--by the move into a different Catholic faith community.
     Trademarked words that represent the best in their respective product, or service fields lead to the making the names verbalizing imProper nouns--trademark.  We wipe our tears with Kleenex, clean our ears with Q-Tips, we google the world wide web for information, etc.
     A spiritual profile of myself is not simple.  It complexity is essential to understand, not elusive, but, essential.  Most identifiable to most are the words Catholic in ritual, Christian in my living.  Not perfect, by any stretch.  Yet, isn't that what it means to be Christian.  It is an imperfect striving to be perfect?  Were our strivings perfect, then what would the need be for perfection? After all, wouldn't perfection be an achievement, and not a goal?
    Catholic and Christian are words that describe me as an adult seeker of ritual, and life.
    More elusive to many are my childhood cornerstones--Universalist, and Unitarian.  I understand them more as one fellowship today.  As a child, there seemed to be a more peaceful, maybe less militant understanding of what Unitarian meant.
   Only as an adult have I come to understand that each fellowship shapes, or expresses what it means to be Universalist, or Unitarian.  I was raised in the First Universalist Church in Minnesota during the 1960s.  Although the denomination was always known as the Universalist-Unitarian Fellowship, the individual churches were known as either Universalist, or Unitarian.  I don't remember knowing any Unitarians.  I understood "Unitarians" to be more militant in the expression of their commitments.  I have no recollection of what led me to that sense.  It may be the stark contrast between Unitarian versus the Trinitarian foundation upon which Christianity is built.  Universalism, I was raised to believe, was built upon the belief that there is good to be found in all world religions.  My child sense of the Universalist church that I was raised in was composed of individuals who were quite active in their support for the United Nations, and the World Federalists.
    Only as an adult have I begun to understood how the current affairs in the world shape how each Universalist, or Unitarian Church expresses its commitment to the belief in the pursuit of thoughtful, logical, reasonable deliberations.  As a Universalist, I was raised to believe that there is good to be found in all world religions.
    Only as a Catholic have I come to appreciate the vast difference between religion and faith.
Much moreso than in Christian denominations.  The gradations among Catholic parishes--Catholic communities--are understood by many Catholics to vary much more dramatic than they are.  Yet, the gradations are not as grandiose as they may seem to some.  The structure of the Catholic celebration focuses around the altar--the Table of Christ.  A Catholic could walk into any Catholic church, and be reasonably certain that they would hear one reading from the Old Testament, a second reading from the New Testament, a psalm, and a reading from one of the Gospels--Matthew, Mark, Luke, or John.  Acts might be read during the Easter season.   Three liturgical cycles of biblical readings, seasons of the liturgical year including Advent, Christmas, Ordinary Time, Lent, the Triduum, and Easter are constant across all Catholic parishes.
    In no way do I mean to dismiss the vast differences between the Catholic Church pre-Vatican II, and Post-Vatican II.  Though born in 1960, I am a child of the Post-Vatican II Catholic Church.  My sense from Pre-Vatican II Catholics is that to be Catholic implied much more of a unified expression of beliefs and forms of expression, than is the case today.
    Individuals I knew, who were raised as pre-Vatican II Catholics, led me to believe that there was one way to be Catholic.  I do not mean to blame them, or denigrate their message to me.  They were expressing their experience to me.  When I was introduced to post-Vatican II Catholics, I was blown away--perplexed.  Each individual had tremendous integrity, and yet, they were not expressing their Catholicism identically--not by a long shot.
     I do not think that the changes that are forthcoming in my Catholic faith community will be as drastic as the  Universalist versus Catholic, or the pre- versus post-Vatican II Catholics I experienced during the last thirty years.  Yet, I do believe the change will be radical.  I pray it may inform my faith, and the faith of my community, rather than weaken its fabric.

Earthquakes and Seizures???

Eyewitnesses are reporting that a 7.4 earthquake has occurred in Japan.  I fear earthquakes.  I have never experienced an earthquake.  My fear is not routed in its unknown quality to me.  Not exactly.
     I have spoken with California earthquake veterans--Minnesota natives.  My questions??
     First, what does an earthquake feel like?
     Second, what distinguishes an afttershock from a separate earthquake?  Is it a function of time?  Is it a function of the earthquake's location?  Is it a function of the earthquake's strength?
     Third, how can you quantify the exponential nature of earthquakes on a human scale?
     Fourth, is there any parallel--scientific, or otherwise--between a seizure, and an earthquake?
     I have never heard anyone posit a correlation between earthquakes, and seizures.  I know individuals familiar with earthquakes.  I know some individuals with seizures.  Yet, no such lay experts have expressed this question.  I have had seizures since I was a kid.  Some of my seizures have been grand mal--tonic clonic seizures.  I have told family, friends, and coworkers that if I have a seizure to reassure me.  Specifically, during a tonic-clonic seizure, it feels as though my right arm and leg are going to fall off of my body, due to the violence of the shaking.  In my conscious moments, I know otherwise.  Yet, I have heard no one else report such feelings, or experiences.
     Finally, if a correlation between seizures and earthquakes does that correlation inform how seizures, and earthquakes exist?
     I don't know whom to address.  I don't know what forum to direct the individuals with information, and insights to offer what they know, feel, and experience.  I do know that information, experiences, feelings, and insights must be given credence if these questions are to be addressed.  The specific answers are not as important as is the use of a deliberative decision-making process.

Reluctant Disgust

    Walter Cronkite and Eric Sevareid were nightly duties to attend to--a half an hour interlude from the chaos of a family of five.  You did not dare talk during Eric Sevareid's reflections on current affairs.  Listening to the news was as important to being a citizen as was voting.
     Much has changed in 40 years.  The Cold War has ended.  The Vietnam War is history.  The Apollo missions into outer space ended, and now NASA'S Space Shuttle program is coming to a close.  Eric Sevareid's voice has been silenced.  Walter Cronkite's "And that's the way it is," no longer is the way it is.
     Some call it hyperbole.  National security "experts" call it chatter.  Whatever the public venue, reflection, and thoughtful deliberation seem extinct.
     Where are the reasonable voices?  Issues abound.  Yet, the chatter--the political hyperbole--has drowned out the time for quiet meditation.
     Technology need not be the villain.  Moderation.  Selectivity.  Alternative news sources.  Proven integrity.  No enemies exist--no villains await infliction of violence--unless we certify them with our gullible trust.
      Debate about the federal and state budgets is woefully lacking in thoughtful, conversant discourse.  I am grateful that the health care debate has ended.  I fear the much-needed discussion of Medicare.  Both are too close to my past and future realities.
      I fear I am losing, if not already lost, a principled, spirited expression of citizenship.  I fear I have stopped listening.  I do turn off coverage of current affairs that disintegrate into a verbal free-for-all.
      Have my convictions narrowed?  My willingness to stand up for my beliefs disappeared?  I fear my beliefs have been stripped to one.  I am not a violent person.  Yet, during the health care debate, I wanted to throttle those who incited hyperbole, and fertilized a futile free-for-all.
      I want to send an open letters to all decision-makers--to all citizens, with a very simple message:
      We have no guarantee that we will wake up tomorrow with the same capacities--mental, or physical--that we have when we go to bed tonight.  Our decisions must be rooted in that appreciation.

Left With Fear

     I fear little.  Not because I am brave, or courageous, not be a long shot.  I fear little.
     Fear's expenditure lessens my deposits of strength to take on necessary human challenges.  My moment's challenges?  They are few.  Preserve my mind's vitality.  Nurture my spirit.  Treat my hand gently.  Preserve the gifts she gives me--the strength I have taken for granted--abused--for a lifetime.
     My vehicle's challenge?  There is but one.  Preserve the strength of my left hand.  Right-handed I am not.  Ambidextrous I am not.  My mind--my spirit--are conveyed through the strength of my left hand.  Friends, family, and a spiritual community revitalize my mind and spirit.  With them, my voice sharpens.
     Exercise might strengthen the hands of some.  Yet, my lifelong abuse of my left hand fertilizes this moment's fear.  Osteorthritis attacks with anxious fear.
     Writing is my voice.  I attend to my ankle--I accommodate her anxiety.  Yet, I fear threats to my left hand's grip--the strength she brings to me.  I must give her due gentleness, that she not be lost to me--to my mind, to my spirit.
     Am I alone in such piercing fear?  I don't think so.  Yet, I cannot say what for others is the unrealized piercing fear that awaits an honest revelation--a revelation that would bring a much more authentic life.  I don't know what my left hand's compromise is--or my compromise to my left hand's honor.  If I did know, I would challenge friends, family, and strangers to be open to their body's revelation--an invitation to authenticity.
     To sleep I go.  Healing--rejuvenation--I seek.

A Convergence of Ages--Family Ages

     This weekend three generations spanning sixty years converged.  An evening gathering.  I sat, and listened as an aunt, and a daughter.  Though old enough to be so, I am not a mother.  My daughter's eyes were clarified.  No one may defy age forever.  My head knows this truth.  My daughter's eyes saw what the youngest in our gathering did not see--did not want to see or hear of his elders.
     Though I have been blessed with a strong bond with my nephews, life circumstances do not give me the vehicle necessary to convey the importance of working.  I am a poor example to my nephews of the commitment to the less glamorous parts of life--the substance of the working life.  Rarely am I speechless.  Rarely am I at a loss for how to communicate what needs to be said in a gentle, but diplomatic manner.
    I recognize the fallacy of the question, "What do you want to do when you grow up?"  Yet, there must be some such question that is not laden with condescension, and implications of disrespect.  What is the question?  I believe myself to be an open-minded person, who strives to avoid the pitfalls of being judgmental.  Yet, I am frightened by the cluelessness I am witnessing.  Is what I am experiencing just my time for what all "older generations" of youth experience?
    I guess if I am questioning what the proper question of those younger than I, then I should hardly expect to have any answers.  So, I ponder.

Global Information's Starting Point

     I am fascinated by the many sources of information.  Discerning the veracity of that information intrigues me.  I was raised in a democracy.  Within that democracy, my family, friends, and culture instilled in me the belief that there are channels of government--channels within the community--to address problems.  I witnessed civil service close to home.
     Cynicism about government is not a part of my composition.  Any cynicism I might have is channeled into my votes for candidates with more positive--more constructive organizations.
     Any endorsements I give to voting against a candidate, rather than for a candidate with a more constructive view, only serve to delay resolution of the problems at hand.  Time is precious.  We may ill afford such delays.  That is not to say that decisions should be made hastily.  Quite to the contrary, decisions need to be made with due deliberation.