Seeking Authentic Voice

This evening, the sturdy pair of Levis I wore every day for a year & which seemed to the end in perfect condition, suddenly tore. How or why I don't know, but there it was - a big rip at the crotch. A month ago my friend Nick walked off a racketball court, showered, got into his street clothes, & halfway home collapsed & died. Take heed you who read this & drop to your knees now & again like the poet Christopher Smart & kiss the earath & be joyful & make much of your time & be kindly to everyone, even those who do not deserve it. For although you may not believe it will happen you too will one day be gone. I, whose Levis ripped at the crotch for no reason, assure you that such is the case. Pass it on. Steve Kowit, "A Book of Luminous Things: An International Anthology of Poetry" edited by Czeslaw Milosz: Harcourt Brace & Company, 1996

Recently my daughter and I drove for 30 hours straight from the desert SW to the Windy City. It's curious to call and think of this city as windy, especially after living in the desert, where the winds can be intense. Every Spring the winds blow from the west, off the Pacific Ocean. High winds precede a change in the weather, usually for the cooler. High winds stir up dust. High winds bring in toxins from the copper mines. High winds rattle the house as they literally howl through the walls and windows. Sometimes there is a sustained wind of 20 miles an hour or more that lasts for several days. A sustained wind. Then there are the gusts that accompany those sustained winds. The sand and dust in those storms can be blinding, forcing cars off the road and traffic to stop. Everything feels a little bit dirty and gritty after those wind storms. It's also true that in the Windy City the wind blows a lot. But there are also natural and human made structures that slow the wind down or

Knowing how deeply our lives intertwine, We vow not to kill. Knowing how deeply our lives intertwine, We vow not to take what is not given. Knowing how deeply our lives intertwine, We vow not to engage in abusive relationships. Knowing how deeply our lives intertwine, We vow to not speak falsely or deceptively. Knowing how deeply our lives intertwine, We vow to not harm self or other through poisonous thoughts or substance. Knowing how deeply our lives intertwine, We vow to not dwell on past errors. Knowing how deeply our lives intertwine, We vow to not possess any thing or form of life selfishly. Knowing how deeply our lives intertwine, We vow to not harbor ill will toward any plant, animal, or human being. Knowing how deeply our lives intertwine, We vow to not abuse the great truth of Three Treasures.* Stephanie Kaza , Woman Prayers, edited by Mary Ford- Grabowsky : HarperSanFrancisco , 2003 (*In Buddhism the three treasures are, Buddha , the teachings ( dharma ), and community (

Last night, one of my best friends and I were sitting in my living room and I said to her, I never want to live in a vegetative state, dependent on some machine and fluids from a bottle. If that ever happens, just pull the plug. She got up, unplugged the computer, and threw out my wine. She's such a bitch. I got this from altarego

Matthew 10.14:If anyone will not welcome you or listen to your words, shake off the dust from your feet as you leave that house or town. Mark 6.11:If any place will not welcome you and they refuse to hear you, as you leave, shake off the dust that is on your feet...’ Luke 9.5:Wherever they do not welcome you, as you are leaving that town shake the dust off your feet....’ Luke 10.11:“Even the dust of your town that clings to our feet, we wipe off ... Yet know this: the kingdom of God has come near.” I woke up with these passages of scripture playing over and over in my head

Another morning and I wake with thirst for the goodness I do not have. I walk out to the pond and all the way God has given us such beautiful lessons. Oh Lord, I was never a quick scholar but sulked and hunched over my books past the hour and the bell; grant me, in your mercy, a little more time. Love for the earth and love for you are having such a long conversation in my heart. Who knows what will finally happen or where I will be sent, yet already I have given a great many things away, expect- ing to be told to pack nothing, except the prayers which, with this thirst I am slowly learning. Mary Oliver: Thirst; Beacon Press Boston, 2006

is gone. I can't say much more than that.

The Summer Day Mary Oliver Who made the world? Who made the swan, and the black bear? Who made the grasshopper? This grasshopper, I mean- the one who has flung herself out of the grass, the one who is eating sugar out of my hand, who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down- who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes. Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face. Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away. I don't know exactly what a prayer is. I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass, how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields, which is what I have been doing all day. Tell me, what else should I have done? Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon? Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life? from New and Selected Poems, 1992 Beacon Press, Boston, MA I've been thinking a lot about my life these days. Or rather, I'

A week ago the NY Times Magazine, which has taken to focusing the majority of the magazine on one topic, focused on the status of women in the world. Well, the third world, primarily. The lead article was written by a husband and wife team, 1990 Pulitzer Prize winners for reporting on China's Tiananmen Square democracy movement, a couple who have documented the crimes and cruelties of women and girls. This couple, Nicholas Kristof and Sheyl WuDunn have written a new book, to be pulished next month by Knopf, titled "Half the Sky: Turning Oppression Into Opportunity for Women Worldwide. The editor of the NY Times Magazine, Gerald Marsorati, upon reading the manuscript of the book, was struck by the notion that this is the manifesto for our times, ergo an entire magazine devoted to it. You can read it here , if you haven't already. Today, while riding the exercise bike, I read the Letters to the Editor from this weeks NY Times Magazine, letters that responded to the articles

"I know my lines.....I just don't know the order they come in." Alec Baldwin, State and Main

Sally over at RevGals is wondering about what recharges us and offers this Friday Five Meme: 1. Is there a person who encourages and uplifts you, whose company you seek when you are feeling low? I am usually recharged by finding time for solitude and silence: When I am really worn I schedule a three day silent retreat. On a regular basis I find solitude in reading a book or the NY Times on the chaise in the backyard and then taking a good swim. I used to be recharged by walking through the beauty of our old dog park in Chicago - a good 45 minute walk where just the dogs and I could wander off. Here, though, with bobcats and coyotes, I rarely walk the dogs alone. (sad, really). I also like to sit outside in the morning with a cup of coffee and watch the sun rise over the mountains. And lastly, knitting restores me. 2. How about a piece of music that either invigorates or relaxes you? I use music this way all the time. Except I have lost my iPod and have not been able to afford to repl

A rare, or so it seems to me, rare, hurricane has blown up in the Pacific Ocean, right up along the Baja California. I worry for those who had to live through this storm on that thin strip of land....but on the other hand it has been really awesome to be upwind of the off shoots of the hurricane as they drift northward. The storm, now a tropical depresssion, is probably going to blow west, back into the Pacific, and therefore not afford either Arizona or California, the benefits of heavy rain held in the clouds of this storm. We, in the SW, could really use a lot of rain. But, that said... Today some storm clouds blew over the mountains, clouds filled with so much moisture, the moisture was literally hanging in the air like steam. Mountains steaming.... And now, rain. A beautiful steady rain. And the air so cool that the air conditioning is turned off and the doors and windows are open...a cool (albeit humid) breeze blowing through, and the soft patter of rain wafts in.... It's dif

A vein of sapphires hides in the earth, a sweetness in fruit; and in plain-looking rock lies a golden ore, and its seeds, the treasure of oil. Like these, the infinite rests concealed in the heart. No one can see the ways of our jasmine-white Lord. Mahadevi, India twelfth century translated by Jane Hirshfield Ford-Grabowsky, Mary: WomanPrayers, HarperCollins, 2003

"Some friends of mine, a pastor and his wife, moved to a new church a few years ago, based on a strong sense of call to that particular community. Their first year or two in the new parish were very difficult. Their house in the old community didn't sell for almost a year, causing quite a strain on the budget. And not long after arriving at the new church, they were embroiled in a church battle that had been brewing for many years, one that the pastor forced to the surface where people had to deal with it. The six months or so that they and the congregation spent working out that situation were as unpleasant a time as anyone could imagine, and the church nearly split in two. Some people did end up leaving the congregation, but the church resolved the problem and not only survived but flourished once this decades-old issue had been identified and repaired. The pastor and his wife had serious questions about their call amidst all the difficulties, but they persisted in their wor