Yesterday I posted a picture on my facebook page of my most recent love--a 2010 Chevy Tahoe--a deep red with dark gray interior. Generally the vehicles that get my pulse racing are not SUVs, but hey, this one is su-weet, and I am a truck lover by nature; and the Tahoe, despite its appearance, is just a truck.
What was not so sweet was the picture of me standing next to it. I have been loathe to let anyone photograph me, a phenomenon that increasingly reminds me of how much like my mother I am beginning to look, and how she too would avoid cameras for the same reason I am now doing--because of my weight. It doesn't help that my thin, young, beautiful daughter is in the picture and I find myself with a clearer picture of how my mother might have felt 35 years ago when I was Jasmine's age, and my mother was the same age I am now--or close enough. It's tempting to blame genetics or the environment in which I was raised, or any number of things I cited in an earlier post with a similar title, but I won't do that.
What I will do is whatever is necessary to improve both my health and appearance. It shocks me to see this photo, not just because of my weight but also for the fact that I find myself second guessing my decision to let my hair go "au naturel"--another genetic propensity I have for being "prematurely" gray. In a youth obsessed culture, it seems rather bold and defiant to sport white hair (and it is white!) What also seems bold and defiant is a decision to mix it up with a little punk color--something I intend to do before I leave for a visit with my family in Michigan and Wisconsin next month. I'm thinking a color to match that Tahoe would be awesome.
And so it is rather fun to think of my head as a canvas for a palette of color. If age and experience give me nothing else they have given me a sense of not caring too much about what people think of me, still the fact that this photograph unnerves me is telling. And so, I apologize to myself for letting my self-esteem suffer because of snapshot taken in a moment when I forgot my appearance and reflected my joy over an automobile. I apologize to myself for a brief lapse of letting myself believe that a two-dimensional image could even begin to reflect the multi-dimensional human being that I am. I apologize to God for even the slightest disdain for the marvelous workings of even the mechanisms of biology that made me store fat, and grow once jet black hair that is now nearly pure white.
I think this is a great metaphor for my life. Black absorbs all light, reflecting nothing back; white reflects all. When young I was like a sponge, learning and absorbing and taking within my mind, heart and soul, whatever the world would offer. As my hair lost its pigmentation (it began in my early twenties) I felt as if I was losing my identity and perhaps in desiring to hold onto myself I made myself larger to compensate. Now it seems all that knowledge, wisdom and experience is something I wish to give back to the world, with it too the shedding of the excess protection I built around a fragile self that could be so easily bruised by this same world.
In the movie "The Ten Commandments" Moses goes up the mountain with a headful of brown hair, and descends with a crown of white. I have always loved that image, and certainly it is a metaphorical statement of the wisdom of those with hoary heads (but not all are wise!)
Still, like the scars we obtain on the battlefield of life, we are shaped and colored (or uncolored) by our experiences. As we age we can continue to grasp and cling to the objects, the beliefs, the identities that once formed us, or we can let go. But not just let go in some resigned way, but intentionally give back what has been given us with joy. Still, if fate and finances conspire to make that Tahoe mine, I'm gonna hold on baby, and ROCK IT, just like I do this amazing hair!
Monday, August 9, 2010
Monday, August 2, 2010
The wisdom of demented flies
Above the coffee table in my living room, a solitary common house fly traces ellipses in the air. He (she) has done this for several days now, frequently and briefly knocked off course by the comings and goings of the people and animals who live with me. There is something oddly comforting in this sometimes erratic circling and something profoundly meditative. This evening I sat and watched for a half hour as patterns of circles and ovals emerged, mesmerized that they most often repeated in a figure eight.
Last night this lonely one briefly tangled with another of its species, but that one seems to have disappeared, as did the large moth attracted to the television's light. Moving as it does, as if searching for something; missing, it appears, its sense of direction. As its insect brain seems to have lost its instinct to eat and reproduce it waits only to die. Still I wonder why it would choose (if a fly indeed chooses anything) to spend its last days circling above my coffee table. Yesterday a part of me was tempted to shorten this final stage but tonight its tenuous hold on life seems rather precious and sacred as I mourn the far more precious and sacred life of my friend, Phyllis Ramirez.
It is oddly comforting to watch the movement of this tiny creature, who when it finally falls to the earth it has come from, will be noticed by the One who created it. If sparrows, then why not common house flies? It occurs to me that in this miniscule organism is all the wisdom of the universe or at least that portion of wisdom that creates both flies and the air that bears them on their little wings. Why else does this creature, with his dying energy, trace the symbolic ellipse of infinity?
Last night this lonely one briefly tangled with another of its species, but that one seems to have disappeared, as did the large moth attracted to the television's light. Moving as it does, as if searching for something; missing, it appears, its sense of direction. As its insect brain seems to have lost its instinct to eat and reproduce it waits only to die. Still I wonder why it would choose (if a fly indeed chooses anything) to spend its last days circling above my coffee table. Yesterday a part of me was tempted to shorten this final stage but tonight its tenuous hold on life seems rather precious and sacred as I mourn the far more precious and sacred life of my friend, Phyllis Ramirez.
It is oddly comforting to watch the movement of this tiny creature, who when it finally falls to the earth it has come from, will be noticed by the One who created it. If sparrows, then why not common house flies? It occurs to me that in this miniscule organism is all the wisdom of the universe or at least that portion of wisdom that creates both flies and the air that bears them on their little wings. Why else does this creature, with his dying energy, trace the symbolic ellipse of infinity?
Mea Culpa
For all my fans who have eagerly awaited my daily posts, I apologize for neglecting this important work for four days. No excuses, but certainly it is not for lack of topics on which to write. This morning while on the treadmill--which I have learned to love in this summer of much rain--I was thinking of my friend and pastor, Fr. Fred, who recently had surgery on his ankle. I think he has been in pain with this thing for quite a few years, and after battling with his insurance company, finally got the surgery he needed. I believe they fused his ankle bones in some way, which sounds like the short term with this could be quite challenging, but ultimately will give him relief and will enable him to walk longer distances and be able to stand for longer periods of time. I honestly don't know, but my prayers are with him for healing.
My ankles are fine, they are beautiful, they work well, and honestly, while I sometimes have hip pain, back pain, knee pain, my ankles are miracuously pain free. I intend to keep them that way, which is why I was on the treadmill this morning.
For what seems like an eternity I have struggled with excess weight. It seemed to begin with my first pregnancy where I gained 50 pounds and lost about 40 of that until my next pregnancy, where I only gained 40 pounds, but lost 30, and you can see where this is going.... My "baby" is 14 years old but my weight has actually increased over the course of her lifetime. What is miraculous is that I am still relatively fit, able to walk comfortably at a 4mph pace, lift light weights repeatedly without pain, and do at least a few crunches. Okay, it's a beginning, one I have made too many times to count.
As I stated when I began this blog, my intention was to seek leanness of body, and I have begun that in earnest again. Going public with this is a bit scary, but not too, as I don't think anyone is reading these posts anyway. Still, if you think I am going to post my "beginning" weight, you're out of your mind, because numbers are just that. They carry no real "weight" however they can become huge stumbling blocks in an attempt to become healthy. At this point in my life, health is more of an issue, not because I have any real health challenges (although I would not know it since I haven't been to a doctor in 13 years--no health insurance) but precisely because I don't want any.
Back to the treadmill...I am so grateful to have a body that has served me so well for 52+ years, a body that bore and nourished 5 amazingly healthy children from their conception to well into their second year of life. I have a few stretch marks, 3 Cesarean scars across my lower abdomen and all the strange things that appear as the years pass. This is all so miraculous and amazing that I often wonder why I couldn't keep this in mind as I was eating what I did not really desire, when what I desired could not be ascertained quickly enough to prevent that.
It is fashionable in this country where half the adult population (and the kids too increasingly) are overweight or obese, to blame fast food, fast paced lifestyles, anything but ourselves. We go after the demons of agri-business, the purveyors of tasty and fat-laden fare, our eating companions, our unhappy lives, our genetics, our cave man propensity for feasting and famine, anything but ourselves. Or worse, if we do go after ourselves we do it with such deep self-loathing that we mire ourselves in hopelessness and despair.
ENOUGH! Maybe this is a word those of us who struggle with weight or any overindulgence issue should tattoo in our brains, repeat it as mantra, engrave it on the hands of our God so that when we seek Him we will see that all that we have been given is ENOUGH! Perhaps the trouble is that we do not seek Him nearly as often as we should when the temptation to abuse these bodies He has so graciously given to us. The why of that is perhaps the most elusive thing, especially for one who believes to the depths of my soul that the only true satisfaction in life is loving well, and loving well first and foremost the One who IS love. I am tempted to say it is a certain lack of faith that keeps me believing this is all too trivial for the immensity of God, but ironically, just as I was about to write that, my ipod began playing "Faith Like a Child" by Jars of Clay (the live version where the audience sings that line!)
Amazing!
I began a novel a few years ago with this elusive search for peace with food as its main topic. I intend to continue, and when I appear on the Colbert Report--significantly thinner than I am today--to promote it you will all wish you had read my blog!
My ankles are fine, they are beautiful, they work well, and honestly, while I sometimes have hip pain, back pain, knee pain, my ankles are miracuously pain free. I intend to keep them that way, which is why I was on the treadmill this morning.
For what seems like an eternity I have struggled with excess weight. It seemed to begin with my first pregnancy where I gained 50 pounds and lost about 40 of that until my next pregnancy, where I only gained 40 pounds, but lost 30, and you can see where this is going.... My "baby" is 14 years old but my weight has actually increased over the course of her lifetime. What is miraculous is that I am still relatively fit, able to walk comfortably at a 4mph pace, lift light weights repeatedly without pain, and do at least a few crunches. Okay, it's a beginning, one I have made too many times to count.
As I stated when I began this blog, my intention was to seek leanness of body, and I have begun that in earnest again. Going public with this is a bit scary, but not too, as I don't think anyone is reading these posts anyway. Still, if you think I am going to post my "beginning" weight, you're out of your mind, because numbers are just that. They carry no real "weight" however they can become huge stumbling blocks in an attempt to become healthy. At this point in my life, health is more of an issue, not because I have any real health challenges (although I would not know it since I haven't been to a doctor in 13 years--no health insurance) but precisely because I don't want any.
Back to the treadmill...I am so grateful to have a body that has served me so well for 52+ years, a body that bore and nourished 5 amazingly healthy children from their conception to well into their second year of life. I have a few stretch marks, 3 Cesarean scars across my lower abdomen and all the strange things that appear as the years pass. This is all so miraculous and amazing that I often wonder why I couldn't keep this in mind as I was eating what I did not really desire, when what I desired could not be ascertained quickly enough to prevent that.
It is fashionable in this country where half the adult population (and the kids too increasingly) are overweight or obese, to blame fast food, fast paced lifestyles, anything but ourselves. We go after the demons of agri-business, the purveyors of tasty and fat-laden fare, our eating companions, our unhappy lives, our genetics, our cave man propensity for feasting and famine, anything but ourselves. Or worse, if we do go after ourselves we do it with such deep self-loathing that we mire ourselves in hopelessness and despair.
ENOUGH! Maybe this is a word those of us who struggle with weight or any overindulgence issue should tattoo in our brains, repeat it as mantra, engrave it on the hands of our God so that when we seek Him we will see that all that we have been given is ENOUGH! Perhaps the trouble is that we do not seek Him nearly as often as we should when the temptation to abuse these bodies He has so graciously given to us. The why of that is perhaps the most elusive thing, especially for one who believes to the depths of my soul that the only true satisfaction in life is loving well, and loving well first and foremost the One who IS love. I am tempted to say it is a certain lack of faith that keeps me believing this is all too trivial for the immensity of God, but ironically, just as I was about to write that, my ipod began playing "Faith Like a Child" by Jars of Clay (the live version where the audience sings that line!)
Amazing!
I began a novel a few years ago with this elusive search for peace with food as its main topic. I intend to continue, and when I appear on the Colbert Report--significantly thinner than I am today--to promote it you will all wish you had read my blog!
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
En vino, veritas
Okay, I probably have the spelling wrong, but basically this translates to "in wine, there is truth." Tonight I spent several hours with some of the people who are involved in the community organizing ministry of St. Anthony parish. It was the occasion of seven years since the inception of this ministry and some of the people who have been there since the beginning were in attendance.
The truth that is in the wine is how much I love these folks, some I have known for years and some for only a few months. One of those long timers is my friend, Donna, who I met over 26 years ago when we were pregnant with our sons, my first, her last. We reminsced about not only our involvement with this particular ministry but how we collaborated on a variety of projects, some serious, some anything but. Perhaps the most hilarious was the time about 20 of the women of our parish dressed as priests for a Halloween party, much to the dismay and annoyance of our associate pastor at the time.
The gift of a life, even of 52 years, is the great number of friends that God has given me, people who sometimes know my soul better than I do. Donna is one of those friends. We have been through much in the 26 years that we have been friends, but what is amazing and for what I am so truly grateful is that we are still friends. She has taught me so much, been a wonderful example of mother, sister, friend, fellow Christian, fellow seeker of truth. I have been blessed to be present as two of her grandchildren have come into the world, and also to offer a word or two as her dear husband left it. Laughter, tears, joy, pain, these are the true treasures of friendship. Their weight and eternal value cannot be underestimated. She has inspired, challenged and instructed me, much like a big sister.
On occasions such as this evening it is good to remember those who have taken us to places we couldn't have imagined years ago, not so much the physical locations, but the deep recesses within each of us where we are called to become more than we presently are, to stretch ourselves to embrace change or adversity, to make room for others and whatever they bring to us. It is only in opening ourselves to this summoning of strength within us that we grow as human beings. I have learned that while it seems to be easier initially to run from such challenges, to retreat to the familiar sense of self that we have, it leaves us weaker, smaller, less engaged and defensive. Growth is painful, but more painful is stagnation, status quo, an illusion of power that we never actually possessed.
And now, 15 minutes have passed. I am tired. En vino, veritas, and en vino whatever is the latin word for sleepiness. Good night!
The truth that is in the wine is how much I love these folks, some I have known for years and some for only a few months. One of those long timers is my friend, Donna, who I met over 26 years ago when we were pregnant with our sons, my first, her last. We reminsced about not only our involvement with this particular ministry but how we collaborated on a variety of projects, some serious, some anything but. Perhaps the most hilarious was the time about 20 of the women of our parish dressed as priests for a Halloween party, much to the dismay and annoyance of our associate pastor at the time.
The gift of a life, even of 52 years, is the great number of friends that God has given me, people who sometimes know my soul better than I do. Donna is one of those friends. We have been through much in the 26 years that we have been friends, but what is amazing and for what I am so truly grateful is that we are still friends. She has taught me so much, been a wonderful example of mother, sister, friend, fellow Christian, fellow seeker of truth. I have been blessed to be present as two of her grandchildren have come into the world, and also to offer a word or two as her dear husband left it. Laughter, tears, joy, pain, these are the true treasures of friendship. Their weight and eternal value cannot be underestimated. She has inspired, challenged and instructed me, much like a big sister.
On occasions such as this evening it is good to remember those who have taken us to places we couldn't have imagined years ago, not so much the physical locations, but the deep recesses within each of us where we are called to become more than we presently are, to stretch ourselves to embrace change or adversity, to make room for others and whatever they bring to us. It is only in opening ourselves to this summoning of strength within us that we grow as human beings. I have learned that while it seems to be easier initially to run from such challenges, to retreat to the familiar sense of self that we have, it leaves us weaker, smaller, less engaged and defensive. Growth is painful, but more painful is stagnation, status quo, an illusion of power that we never actually possessed.
And now, 15 minutes have passed. I am tired. En vino, veritas, and en vino whatever is the latin word for sleepiness. Good night!
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Woman's Work? (or why God is a woman)
Yesterday, a day I did not post, was not a particularly good day. To say that I am prone to periods of ennui (love that word!) is not news to anyone who knows me well. Then again, such feelings of desolation are often vague feelings of loneliness that go away when I am in the presence of people I love--well, perhaps not always, it is sometimes the actions of my family (or lack thereof) that triggers them.
Yesterday's listlessness was probably more a feeling of laziness in the face of overwhelming amounts of housework--any amount of housework is overwhelming to me--and a certain amount of self-pity, as in "why am I the only one who does this crap?" And yet there are millions of people (most likely women) who take on the daily drudgery of keeping chaos at bay, why should I feel so persecuted? It wasn't until I watched "Clean House" (at 9 pm) that I finally got the motivation to empty the dishwasher and put away the dishes that I must wash by hand. With a great sense of irony I realized that the ordering of the chaos is exactly what the creation of the world is all about, and so in some sublime way "keeping house" is divine in nature. Whether true or not, it does help to get through what often seem to be the mindless tasks of cleaning.
And yet, in every instance where I brought a sense of mindfulness to the tasks at hand, they always seemed to have some sort of relevance in the grand scheme of things. They can even become (dare I say?) pleasurable. After all, the universe does not exactly take care of itself. It has not been created and abandoned, at least not in my estimation or observation. Like anything that is brought into being, be it a child, a garden, a work of art or beauty, it must be nurtured, maintained, even repaired if it is to endure and bless the world. And just as the Spirit brooded over water at the dawn of creation, She continues to sustain our very breathing, long before and long after we have take our first and last breaths. In a very real, but unfathomable way "before" and "after" are not even relevant in the realm of Spirit, only now.
That is precisely why mindfulness in the doldrums of life is so essential. We can get lost in the sheer discouragement of believing that the thing we could be doing is far more relevant or important than what we are doing at this particular moment in time. At this particular moment I am typing these words, and what is most fascinating to me is that they are not at all what I intended to write--they really aren't. I believed I was going to write about how all the mundane stuff in my life keeps me from the really significant stuff--how beating back the clutter of day to day is a thankless, boring task that has no cosmic relevance. How wrong I can be.
Curing cancer and securing world peace appear to be more significant achievements in a world that says it values those things, but more often values material success and fame. Yet it is likely those ends will be accomplished by one soul whose mother or father or someone kept their child of monumental achievement clothed, fed, clean, engaged, encouraged and most of all, loved. It was Mother Teresa who said, "do small things with great love." The small thing is what sustains all of creation moment to moment, the small thing, done with the greatest Love. Washing dishes can have tremendous consequences and tremendous power.
Yesterday's listlessness was probably more a feeling of laziness in the face of overwhelming amounts of housework--any amount of housework is overwhelming to me--and a certain amount of self-pity, as in "why am I the only one who does this crap?" And yet there are millions of people (most likely women) who take on the daily drudgery of keeping chaos at bay, why should I feel so persecuted? It wasn't until I watched "Clean House" (at 9 pm) that I finally got the motivation to empty the dishwasher and put away the dishes that I must wash by hand. With a great sense of irony I realized that the ordering of the chaos is exactly what the creation of the world is all about, and so in some sublime way "keeping house" is divine in nature. Whether true or not, it does help to get through what often seem to be the mindless tasks of cleaning.
And yet, in every instance where I brought a sense of mindfulness to the tasks at hand, they always seemed to have some sort of relevance in the grand scheme of things. They can even become (dare I say?) pleasurable. After all, the universe does not exactly take care of itself. It has not been created and abandoned, at least not in my estimation or observation. Like anything that is brought into being, be it a child, a garden, a work of art or beauty, it must be nurtured, maintained, even repaired if it is to endure and bless the world. And just as the Spirit brooded over water at the dawn of creation, She continues to sustain our very breathing, long before and long after we have take our first and last breaths. In a very real, but unfathomable way "before" and "after" are not even relevant in the realm of Spirit, only now.
That is precisely why mindfulness in the doldrums of life is so essential. We can get lost in the sheer discouragement of believing that the thing we could be doing is far more relevant or important than what we are doing at this particular moment in time. At this particular moment I am typing these words, and what is most fascinating to me is that they are not at all what I intended to write--they really aren't. I believed I was going to write about how all the mundane stuff in my life keeps me from the really significant stuff--how beating back the clutter of day to day is a thankless, boring task that has no cosmic relevance. How wrong I can be.
Curing cancer and securing world peace appear to be more significant achievements in a world that says it values those things, but more often values material success and fame. Yet it is likely those ends will be accomplished by one soul whose mother or father or someone kept their child of monumental achievement clothed, fed, clean, engaged, encouraged and most of all, loved. It was Mother Teresa who said, "do small things with great love." The small thing is what sustains all of creation moment to moment, the small thing, done with the greatest Love. Washing dishes can have tremendous consequences and tremendous power.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Of need and greed
After spending the last couple of days setting up and conducting a garage sale, I have decided that I am going to seriously curtail my spending on things I don't need to buy, which is pretty much everything except fresh food. The economic recovery in this country will have to proceed without my contribution to it. I'm going to miss the Fred Meyer Rewards and the 2% rebate from Costco, but those too I can live without. My friend Marge was telling me about a friend of hers who would buy things just to get the reward points at Freddies, and I thought, "how sick is that?" but honestly I must admit I am a sucker for a bargain and when the clearance prices are 70% of their original prices it's hard to keep me out of the store.
I will be spending all that time that I save shopping continuing to clean out this oversized place where I live, and divesting myself of my possessions. My goal in life is to die with as few possessions as I possibly can--and hopefully God will give me a good long time to achieve this. My son Jesse has criteria for buying things, and something he would remind me of when I was visiting him in Juneau. If I saw something I liked and desired he would say, "but do you love it?" I ended up spending very little money on acquisitions on my last trip to that wonderful town, and never missed the things that I didn't buy (in fact I don't remember buying anything.)
What I do remember from that trip is a snowstorm on Easter Sunday morning and watching through the windows of the local Catholic Church a steady fall of huge flakes. I remember hiking in the woods near Douglas, where giant trees are laced with mosses and vines and look like something from an enchanted forest, especially in the steady drizzle that persists in that area and engenders the growth of such amazing arboreal beasts. I remember eating at some wonderful places, sharing meals with my middle son as he neared the end of his last year at UAS.
In Hawaii, the highlight of our trip was not the day spent shopping at Ala Moana shopping center, but the day spent snorkeling at Molokini Crater, seeing sea turtles and tropical fish, coral, even a small shark in the crystalline water off Maui. I remember feeling as if I had jumped into a giant aquarium, warm and salty and amazingly bouyant...I was one of the last people to get back on the boat and I relished the time on the water in the peek-a-boo sunshine, even the sunburn I got for neglecting sunscreen
I must admit though that it was a thrill to go to the very large fabric store in Oahu and marvel at the rows and rows of colorful Hawaiian prints, to run my hand over the cool cottons and bright blends, to be amazed by the variety and the myriad ways that artists rendered flowers and patterns, darkness and light. The biggest challenge for me in curtailing my spending will be staying out of the fabric stores, and I make no promises here.
There is something marvelously freeing in this, something that detaches my soul from its grasping at material treasures and inspires it to cling to heavenly things, and to the One who can give me the strength to let go of what enchants, but does not enrich me.
I have been blessed with wonderful opportunities to "preach" at my parish of St. Anthony by my forward thinking and somewhat rebellious pastor who has recognized my talent for both the written and spoken word. I had hoped to offer a reflection on next week's gospel which is about the man who has an overly abundant harvest and decides to tear down his barns and warehouses and build new ones. It is from this gospel the phrase "eat drink and be merry, for tomorrow we die" (sometimes used in reference to the time before the Great Depression) is gleaned. For the wealthy landowner, so secure in his harvest, dies on the evening he makes this declaration. What prefaces the story of the rich farmer is a request of Jesus from a man to make his brother share his inheritance. Jesus, however, has something to say about greed.
As I pondered the word "greed" I thought of it as a contraction for "great need." While this insight may be neither original nor profound (although it seemed quite relevant) it does seem to have merit. The great need we often have in our lives that leads us to desire and acquire is often a deep spiritual need--one we refuse to recognize in a world that tells us that "things" will make us happy. The irony of desiring to possess things is that we are already possessed by One who loves us beyond any measure we could possibly use. So when I ask myself, as my son did, "but do you love this?" I can honestly say that there is very little of my material possessions that I love, and what and who I love most, is the One who has given everything to me.
I will be spending all that time that I save shopping continuing to clean out this oversized place where I live, and divesting myself of my possessions. My goal in life is to die with as few possessions as I possibly can--and hopefully God will give me a good long time to achieve this. My son Jesse has criteria for buying things, and something he would remind me of when I was visiting him in Juneau. If I saw something I liked and desired he would say, "but do you love it?" I ended up spending very little money on acquisitions on my last trip to that wonderful town, and never missed the things that I didn't buy (in fact I don't remember buying anything.)
What I do remember from that trip is a snowstorm on Easter Sunday morning and watching through the windows of the local Catholic Church a steady fall of huge flakes. I remember hiking in the woods near Douglas, where giant trees are laced with mosses and vines and look like something from an enchanted forest, especially in the steady drizzle that persists in that area and engenders the growth of such amazing arboreal beasts. I remember eating at some wonderful places, sharing meals with my middle son as he neared the end of his last year at UAS.
In Hawaii, the highlight of our trip was not the day spent shopping at Ala Moana shopping center, but the day spent snorkeling at Molokini Crater, seeing sea turtles and tropical fish, coral, even a small shark in the crystalline water off Maui. I remember feeling as if I had jumped into a giant aquarium, warm and salty and amazingly bouyant...I was one of the last people to get back on the boat and I relished the time on the water in the peek-a-boo sunshine, even the sunburn I got for neglecting sunscreen
I must admit though that it was a thrill to go to the very large fabric store in Oahu and marvel at the rows and rows of colorful Hawaiian prints, to run my hand over the cool cottons and bright blends, to be amazed by the variety and the myriad ways that artists rendered flowers and patterns, darkness and light. The biggest challenge for me in curtailing my spending will be staying out of the fabric stores, and I make no promises here.
There is something marvelously freeing in this, something that detaches my soul from its grasping at material treasures and inspires it to cling to heavenly things, and to the One who can give me the strength to let go of what enchants, but does not enrich me.
I have been blessed with wonderful opportunities to "preach" at my parish of St. Anthony by my forward thinking and somewhat rebellious pastor who has recognized my talent for both the written and spoken word. I had hoped to offer a reflection on next week's gospel which is about the man who has an overly abundant harvest and decides to tear down his barns and warehouses and build new ones. It is from this gospel the phrase "eat drink and be merry, for tomorrow we die" (sometimes used in reference to the time before the Great Depression) is gleaned. For the wealthy landowner, so secure in his harvest, dies on the evening he makes this declaration. What prefaces the story of the rich farmer is a request of Jesus from a man to make his brother share his inheritance. Jesus, however, has something to say about greed.
As I pondered the word "greed" I thought of it as a contraction for "great need." While this insight may be neither original nor profound (although it seemed quite relevant) it does seem to have merit. The great need we often have in our lives that leads us to desire and acquire is often a deep spiritual need--one we refuse to recognize in a world that tells us that "things" will make us happy. The irony of desiring to possess things is that we are already possessed by One who loves us beyond any measure we could possibly use. So when I ask myself, as my son did, "but do you love this?" I can honestly say that there is very little of my material possessions that I love, and what and who I love most, is the One who has given everything to me.
Friday, July 23, 2010
Abundance
I spent most of today setting up a garage sale as a fundraiser for my church. Most of the items for sale never belonged to me personally, but to folks for whom we have done estate sales, or were things we aquired with the intention of passing them along anyway. In a business like ours, an auction business, we come across a huge variety and quantity of items, some of which receive little interest at one type of sale, and yet would bring in more money at another. So, they find their way into one of our connex boxes waiting for the day when the ideal buyer might be present at an auction. In many cases, the ideal buyer doesn't show up, so not infrequently we go looking for the right purchaser.
Over the years we have acquired a huge variety of goods, so that in nearly every case, if someone needs something, no doubt we have it. When people ask us what types of items we have auctioned, I like to say, "everything from airplanes to zippers." There are a few things we haven't auctioned, like pornographic materials, certain types of weapons, and perhaps a whole class of things that I wouldn't know much about anyway (use your imagination.) It has been, to say the least, an interesting business.
What impresses me most, however, is not the variety of goods, the various prices they fetch, or even the sheer quantity of them. What always amazes me, especially when some items don't even get a bid, is how blessed we are in this country to have at our disposal (pun intended) such an amazing array of items to make our lives easier, more enjoyable and simply more interesting. I sometimes feel like those mothers of years past who would remind their children to clean their plates, because children, somewhere in the world, were starving. The wealth of the United States is such that we throw away the things that folks in poorer parts of the world would scavenge from dumps to sell in order to buy their next meal--the one after that would require more scrounging, no doubt.
The implications of this for our planet, our future, and the well-being of all the people of this world are huge. The oft-quoted statistic of 6% of the world's population consuming 40% of its resources does not account for the fact that we don't really "consume" much of anything at all, except perhaps food, water and fuel (and we waste incredible amounts of these as well.) Moreover, we discard a tremendous amount of the goods produced with those resources. It is my contention that future societies will mine our garbage dumps for minerals which will be too scarce and too expensive to mine conventionally in their naturally occuring locations--and not just minerals, but a variety of products.
In a very real sense, our auction company recycles many tons of goods each year, not just by keeping usable items out of the landfills by selling them to new users, but also by bringing additional tons of scrap metal, aluminum, wood, and a variety of items to local recyclers. Ultimately though, some things have no market in this country because there aren't enough folks who are willing to repurpose them. Those things we must bring to the local dump. It is what we bring to the dump that most sickens me.
A few years ago I visited the museum at the University of Oregon in Eugene. Because it was the year of the Beijing Summer Olympics there was a fascinating display of photographs from China. While they were all compelling, perhaps the most intriguing were the ones of workers sorting through trash piles that had been barged from the West to China. With what appeared to be amazing efficiency, the detritus of our more privileged existences had been organized into massive piles. It made me think back to my childhood when I wished I could package up my tuna noodle casserole and send it to China. And while we aren't shipping the unwanted dinners of our children overseas, our underutilized and discarded goods are being shipped there, along with our money, to buy back the goods made of our waste.
Over the years we have acquired a huge variety of goods, so that in nearly every case, if someone needs something, no doubt we have it. When people ask us what types of items we have auctioned, I like to say, "everything from airplanes to zippers." There are a few things we haven't auctioned, like pornographic materials, certain types of weapons, and perhaps a whole class of things that I wouldn't know much about anyway (use your imagination.) It has been, to say the least, an interesting business.
What impresses me most, however, is not the variety of goods, the various prices they fetch, or even the sheer quantity of them. What always amazes me, especially when some items don't even get a bid, is how blessed we are in this country to have at our disposal (pun intended) such an amazing array of items to make our lives easier, more enjoyable and simply more interesting. I sometimes feel like those mothers of years past who would remind their children to clean their plates, because children, somewhere in the world, were starving. The wealth of the United States is such that we throw away the things that folks in poorer parts of the world would scavenge from dumps to sell in order to buy their next meal--the one after that would require more scrounging, no doubt.
The implications of this for our planet, our future, and the well-being of all the people of this world are huge. The oft-quoted statistic of 6% of the world's population consuming 40% of its resources does not account for the fact that we don't really "consume" much of anything at all, except perhaps food, water and fuel (and we waste incredible amounts of these as well.) Moreover, we discard a tremendous amount of the goods produced with those resources. It is my contention that future societies will mine our garbage dumps for minerals which will be too scarce and too expensive to mine conventionally in their naturally occuring locations--and not just minerals, but a variety of products.
In a very real sense, our auction company recycles many tons of goods each year, not just by keeping usable items out of the landfills by selling them to new users, but also by bringing additional tons of scrap metal, aluminum, wood, and a variety of items to local recyclers. Ultimately though, some things have no market in this country because there aren't enough folks who are willing to repurpose them. Those things we must bring to the local dump. It is what we bring to the dump that most sickens me.
A few years ago I visited the museum at the University of Oregon in Eugene. Because it was the year of the Beijing Summer Olympics there was a fascinating display of photographs from China. While they were all compelling, perhaps the most intriguing were the ones of workers sorting through trash piles that had been barged from the West to China. With what appeared to be amazing efficiency, the detritus of our more privileged existences had been organized into massive piles. It made me think back to my childhood when I wished I could package up my tuna noodle casserole and send it to China. And while we aren't shipping the unwanted dinners of our children overseas, our underutilized and discarded goods are being shipped there, along with our money, to buy back the goods made of our waste.
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