Boat Across the River
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I Survived…Beyond and Back
http://www.biography.com/tv/i-survived-beyond-and-back/videos/dea-matt-anthony-full-episode-2140358587
The Mansion and the Lilliputian
I was driving home yesterday with the kids, and as so often happens after a long hard day, my brain — or my awareness – starts to feel like it’s rising out of my head. I assume this is from fatigue. I am functioning on a basic level of survival — must drive this car safely — but also feel kind of disconnected from things going on around me. It’s like my mind is split in two. So I was dwelling on this other split-level as I passed by a row of very large and fancy multi-million dollar homes. I noticed a thin, petite woman, dressed in khakis, a loose white shirt, and a straw hat out working in the flowers in the front yard of one of these homes. I often see crews of men working on the lawns of these houses, but rarely would I ever see a woman, by herself, out gardening. In fact, I never have. It seemed obvious to me that this woman must actually LIVE in the home in whose yard she was working. How novel!
As I passed her by, it seemed very strange to me that such a little person should live in such a large home…It was as if I expected a giant to be out in the yard because only a giant would need so much space in which to reside. Truly, I could not believe how tiny this woman looked in front of her residence. Oddly, I almost felt sorry for this her.
Choosing Our Illusions
Having been a competitive swimmer for many years, including in college, I’ve come to resent sports more than I might have otherwise. There are good things about competitive sports: they teach discipline, self-control, about ”winning” and “losing” with grace (but what are we winning and what are we losing?), and about working with others, among other things. I think, however, that sports further the illusion that some of us are on one team while others are on another team.
We are not on different teams; everyone is on the same team. This fact does not change if we are from different countries or from different religions. I shouldn’t be uppity about competitive sports, though. Although I truly don’t see the point of them, besides whipping people up into a frenzy over nothing (clearly I can’t veil my snobbery), there are illusions that I participate in as well. Words, for instance. I love words — in any language, I love words. I love language — commas, semi-colons, dashes. The whole shebang. And language is just symbolism — words are only fingers pointing to the moon, as it were. There are different teams, even within language, given that there are different languages.
I guess we all just choose our own illusions about which to be passionate.
Moment to Breathe
I’m always running around;
there’s so much to do, I know
I’m forgetting to breathe.
It feels so good
when I do remember.
Do you ever feel like your lungs
are in the way
of breathing?
Like they’re holding
you back?
I want to breathe in
a breath
that never ends!
Wordy
Spent a lot of time at the Meeting House today (i.e. church). There were all kinds of events as the season of Advent begins. As I sat in the pew holding my baby son, (my daughter was down the hall rehearsing for her role as the literal star of the show that pointed the way to Baby Jesus), I gazed at the books in front of me that rested on their special little rack. On the covers of these books read words like “hymns,” and “psalms”. I wonder what it is about words with silent letters that make them seem even more beautiful. The letters aren’t pronounced, so why should their presence make a word sound differently? It’s psychological I guess, but that “n” and “p” make those words so delicate and…I’ll say poignant, just to bring up another one of those words that I love.
Looking around the room today, another word that came to mind was “together”. I could meditate and pray alone, and often do. Sitting in extended silence with a roomful of people, though, is a different experience. Even truer to reality, perhaps. We are in this together, all of us, whether we like it or not! Some of the people we are here in this life with can be so frustrating, but we belong to each other just the same. Being together in silent prayer with like-minded people, however, leaves me with such a peaceful feeling. It feels so true. Like…how things really are, all the time. Like how things are for real.
I think of a television show I have been watching lately on the Biography channel called “I Survived…Beyond and Back”. These people have technically died for anywhere from 5 to 20 minutes. On the show they recount their experiences while dead. It’s riveting, I’ve got to say. J. is suspicious, which is what I count on him for!, suggesting that some of these people may either be lying or misinterpreting what happened to them. I have no reason to suspect either of those things. I don’t claim to know more about death than someone who has actually died, and I prefer to believe that these people – often moved to tears in the telling of their stories and whose lives have often done 180 degree turns after survival – are telling the truth.
One woman died on the operating table in a hospital and she tells about rising up out of her body and looking down on the doctors and nurses trying to save her life. She was able to tell them the exact conversation they were having while she was flatlined. She describes seeing some kind of shimmery “chords” going from one person to the next such that they were all connected. It created an effect that looked something like a spider web. The chords appeared to her to go from one person’s chest to another’s, and she was able to know what each person was thinking and feeling. Another aspect of this show that is so fascinating to me is that I have sometimes seen images like this flash in front of my eyes when I meditate – that is, during several of these shows I have been able to say, “Yes! I’ve seen what you’re talking about!” But I might have thought at the time that it was just randomness popping into my head for no reason.
Together…moreso than we even realize I think.
love. guitars.
at the show
guitarists play
one guitar is cherry red
shining in a bright light
i start to feel
that it’s become my heart
the room shakes
music beats inside my chest
either that or I
am inside this song
pieces of the ceiling fall
our seats vibrate
they are pulsing
the whole balcony
beats the rhythm
that beats on stage
and in our chests
will we all fall down?
i think that any minute now
during any one
of these songs
we could each break open
like eggs and ooze together
in the frying pan.
Another Epistle!
This is a letter that I wrote to a very good friend who is considering becoming a member of the religion of Jehovah’s Witnesses. I put some thought into it, so I wanted to keep it and share it:
I wanted to clarify/apologize for some things I said yesterday about your Bible study. I am sorry I came off so strong about the religion in general. You know much more about it than I do. I have been a “witness” to my family’s experience with the religion for 32 years…I love my cousins D. and A. very much. I love my Aunt E. very much, too, but it makes me angry what she has pushed on her kids and allowed my uncle to push on them. It would be the same with any strict religion though. From when we were little, I have vivid memories of my cousins being terrified of offending God. It was all they seemed to think about. I know they spend at least three days a week devoted to the religion and that they are strongly encouraged to socialize and marry within the faith. They constantly lived a fear-based life, focused on everything they might be doing wrong and every way they might be stepping out of line. I’m sure I’ll make plenty of mistakes with my kids, too, but I do consider it a mistake for my aunt and uncle to have put these fears at the front of their young children’s minds. I remember A. saying to me, “Women really are the weaker sex” and that men should be the head of the household. My uncle is a phD scientist, responsible for many patents at a prominent company and my aunt is extremely smart and well educated. I feel like they should know better than to go for these strict rules and guidelines. I personally think that they have missed the forest for the trees.
To me, Jesus’s message was radical. Revolutionary. Unconditionally loving. He broke every rule. He challenged every system of authority. He fearlessly befriended women, sex workers, people who were deathly ill and contagious, gave a voice to children…he is absolutely my hero and who I most want to emulate. I believe he was a miracle worker and chose to work miracles in order to change people’s hearts and minds. I believe that he could bring people, and himself, back from the dead — literally and metaphorically. He did effect massive changes on Earth, and for one person to do that I believe he had SOME kind of special relationship with the Divine. And that he worked hard to cultivate that relationship, as well. I don’t think it was just simple for him. But I don’t think it matters what I, or anybody, believes in order for God — or the Great Divine — to love me. I would be the one separating myself from that love, as if I could, rather than any personified Deity withholding that love from me.
That being said, I was walking through the city with D. — who speaks often in different Kingdom Halls around the world — and he loudly asked me if ”There are a lot of fags here.” J. and I took him to a restaurant and after he’d had a few beers he told us that he had allowed someone to stay at his house when down on his luck, but only after telling the man that there would be ”no masturbating or whores” in his house. By whores, he meant girls sleeping over, not actual sex workers.
It honestly broke my heart that for his whole life he had devotedly studied Jesus and the Bible and that clearly the message he had walked away with was not love, but judgement. How do you devote your entire life to something and totally miss the point?
And back to his attitudes about sex. He is 32 and has never had sex. Fine. I guess. But I do believe he’s afraid of love. I think sex is holy and powerful and it’s not a super great idea to mess around with it if you are not in love. But I do not believe that the way most religions make such a huge deal of waiting till you are married is healthy in this day and age when birth control is available and effective.
I think a lot of religious people rush into marriage all the time because of sex. I think that’s what A. did. I went to her first wedding and listened as my uncle officiated. He spoke at length of the roles that A. and J. would each fill. He said that “a plane can’t have two pilots or it will crash” referring to their marriage. A’s role would be to obey J. Frankly, I think it’s a mistake for any father to say this to his daughter under any circumstances. I strongly believe in equality between men and women, as most sane people do, and was not surprised when the marriage ended quickly and badly.
Ultimately, I personally prefer a faith that emphasizes thoughtfulness on the part of the individual, and moderation, rather than one that focuses on obedience (though I do really like the fact that Witnesses do not believe in eternal suffering in Hell!). I feel like this is a much better representation of my thoughts on the topic than the mish mash that came out yesterday. Again, thanks for humoring me here and letting me get it all out; I hope that I have not offended you in any way.
Can We Wipe Off Love?
When I tell my daughter that I love her, she likes to say, “I’m wiping off all that love!” And she wipes her face off with her hands — she gets a big kick out of it. I tell her in return, “You can’t wipe off that love; that’s stuck to you forever!”
That’s how I imagine so many adults acting with their behavior and choices. The violence that we inflict on each other, the animals, and the earth makes me think that people often do not accept that any kind of divine or universal love should be wasted upon them. Most likely, they did not feel a lot of parental love as children, thus they can’t imagine love on an even greater and unconditional level. They must not feel loved because they certainly don’t act lovingly — or like they know what love is.
I imagine them trying to wipe all the love off their faces with each hurtful act they commit. And I hope that someday, they are in a position to see things more clearly — such as, after their deaths — and that they recognize the pain they have caused, even feel all the pain they have caused. Maybe we’ll all feel all the pain (and love) that we have been responsible for. But I hope that people do not feel the pain that they have caused for eternity. I hope that Divine Love is stuck to all of us forever, and that eventually we’re all grown up enough to feel, accept, and reflect that love back to others.
Fields of Gold
I continue to have to share the instruction of English credits with another, much younger, teacher. And she continues to slowly drive me crazy. She will be gone by the end of the year, having essentially been fired, but she seems determined to take the rest of us down with her. Really, it’s sad, and I do have compassion for her and her situation. She never had a role model growing up and so she had to parent herself, etc., etc., resulting in one of the most arrogant people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing and working with.
I have to wonder, though. Was I so arrogant in my youth? I know that in some ways I was. I remember how self-assured I was, and how I trusted no one better than I trusted myself. Would I have listened to more experienced teachers? Or did I six years ago? I know in some ways I was not so different from her. I would like to think that I had a willingness to learn from others…I must have because I am not at all the same person or teacher that I was. I hold teaching veterans in a different and more respectful light now. I’ve only been doing this for six years, and some of these people are in their third decade. I remember my principal telling me in my second year of teaching, no doubt after some cocky remark from me, “I’ve been doing this longer than you’ve been alive.” True enough. I can’t imagine being stable enough, committed enough, content enough, to stick with one job for thirty years.
So what I’m saying is I should not judge her so harshly. Yesterday, though, a counselor/trusted friend reported to me that my fellow English teacher had been complaining about the way I do things to a group of other teachers. Her choice of words and complaints and unwillingness to speak with me about her issues bother me a lot. Last week she bought me a nice piece of jewelry as a thank you gift for mentoring her this year. Why bother with this if you are just going to turn around and openly trash me to other teachers? Should I confront her about this and explain to her why I do things the way I do? Or should I just let it, and her, go with the fast approaching last day of school?
A few weeks ago, these things were bothering me even more than they are now. I sat down to meditate. I had just seen some nice art earlier that day; one painting was of a farm field, golden stalks shining in the sun. I had been sitting for forty-five minutes, focusing on feeling love, and coming from a place of love in my approach with my co-worker. In the last ten minutes of sitting, everything seemed to get lighter and brighter and the back of my eyelids looked just like a huge golden field to me. I definitely felt a lightening of my strong emotions, and felt more loving towards people. I think the problem is that I rarely have the energy these days to sit and not think, as funny as that sounds! I’ve got to get back into my practice of sitting every day if I want to really feel consistently better about these things that are so difficult for me. I think for me, it really takes a daily re-focus for me to keep my balance. So that’s the goal.
