THEY ENDED UP WITH NOTHING

"When the missionaries came they had the Bible and we had the land. By the time they were finished we had the Bible and they had the land." This is usually attributed to native Hawaiians and Maori.

Native Americans in the Oregon country could have said the same. Jason Lee was a Methodist missionary sent in the 1830's in response to the request of Flathead Indians to bring the "Book of Heaven." Little did they know that what they were going to get was someone more interested in getting Oregon into the union than in educating the Native Americans. And by the 1870's the Polynesian lament was true for almost all the tribes in the Oregon country; the Nez Perce were the last to go.

Anyway, each state has a statue on display. Lee is Oregon's. Evidently there's a movement to replace Lee's statue with one of former Oregon governor and senator Mark Hatfield. To be honest I'd rather they either bring back the statue of John McLoughlin or bring in Hatfield. Stick the missionary of Manifest Destiny in  a corner somewhere.

MAY I BE A WEAVER

May I be as the one who weaves the cloth in a forest, deep hidden.

May I sit at work uninterrupted and may I remain an outcast if that is what it takes.

May I know the seasonal procession in my spirit and in my body, celebrate cross quarters, solstices and equinoxes.

May each full moon find me looking upwards at trees outlined on luminous sky.

May I hold wildflowers, may I cup them in my hand and may I then release them unpicked to live on in abundance.

May my friends be of the kind who are at ease with silence, may they and I be free of pretension.

May I be capable of gratitude, may I know that I was given joy like mothers milk, may I know this as a dog know it in her bones an blood.

May I speak the truth about happiness and pain in songs that sound the scent of rosemary as everyday and ancient kitchen herb strong.

May I not incline to self righteousness or self pity.

May I approach the high earthworks and the stone circles as a fox or moth and disturb the place no more than that.

May my gaze be direct and my hand steady.

May my door be open to those who swell outside wealth and fame and privilege.

May those who have never walked bare foot never find the path that leads up to my door, may they be lost on the labyrinthine journey, may they turn back. And may I sit beside the fire in winter and see the glowing logs of what is to come yet never feel the need to warn or advise unasked.

May I sit upon a plain wooden chair in true contentment.

May the place where I live be as the forest. May there be track ways where there are caves and pools and trees and flowers, animals and birds all known to me and revered and loved.

May my existence change the world no more or less than the gusting of wind or the proud growth of trees. For this I go in cast off clothes.

May I keep faith always. May I never find excuses for the expedient.

May I know that I have no choice yet still make the choice as the song is made in joy and with consideration. May I make the same choice every day again.

When I fail may I know forgiveness for myself. May I dance naked, unafraid to faice my own reflection.

By Rae Beth fro Hedgewitch

PROGRESS

From the first chipped stone to the first forge iron took nearly three million years; from the first iron to the hydrogen bomb took only three thousand years.

Ronald Wright  A Short History of Progress (2004)

AVOID FUNDAMENTALISTS FROM EITHER SIDE

I forget who created this marvelous piece, but if you look closely the shot is full of spirit birds. And it kind of reflects what I'm thinking right now.

“You strain at a gnat and swallow a camel.” Jesus in Jesus of Nazareth. He was just a little…upset with certain Temple officials at the time. The allusion is similar to “you keep pointing out the speck in your neighbor’s eye while ignoring the four by four in your own.”

I was rereading some reviews of The Shack on Amazon and came across a comment with the curious (to me) assertion that contemplative prayer was “unbiblical.” Googling the subject led to some interesting websites.  I find this curious since the material I've read on praying the office style of prayer is all based on the Bible. Some may add a hymn or short piece for meditation but they all have at least one reading from each testament and a Psalm.

Depending on the monastery or convent the prayer cycle might go through the all the Psalms in as little as two weeks or take up to a month. And Kathleen Norris comments in Cloister Walk that the Abbey (St. John’s I think) where she’s an oblate would go through whole books i.e. Jeremiah in the run up to Eastertide, at a time. Personally, I love contemplative prayer and the Desert Fathers were praying it before it was decided exactly what the Bible was.

So, has anyone run into this and what is the basis for these opinions?

This started a discussion thread in the Creation Spirit community I joined a couple of years ago. There have been some good responses and I’ve learned a lot. Maybe more than I really wanted to.

I’ve had to take myself firmly in hand and decide that researching the critics is futile. Nothing that I or anyone else outside their communities will change their minds. I don’t really mind that we don’t agree on how to approach God/dess in prayer. It’s that they seem so…..bleak and joyless. Heck, the different authors don’t even agree among themselves. It’s an interesting world they seem to inhabit; forever seeking to correct the imperfections they perceive in everyone around them.

And on the OTHER side. The shake up in the Catholic church has brought the unbelievers out in droves. Hey, whatever floats your boat. What keeps me going is that I’ve had a few glimpses through the veil and was stone, cold sober at the time. Enough to convince me that there is more to this world than what we access with our five senses.

In their way the non believers are as dogmatic, close minded, intolerant and sometimes as downright nasty as the fundamentalists they rage against. Again, arguing with them is futile. Their shrink wrapped bubble is just as impenetrable as most conservative fundamentalist. Is there such a thing as a fundamentalist non believer? And by nonbeliever I mean those who dismiss any claims to the spiritual as so much “moonshine.” Anyway their world seems just as bleak and joyless. I wish them joy of it. But, when you spend most of your time trying to convince everyone else to be as  dogmatic and inflexible as you are, well again I wish you joy of it. 

I WAS

Photo from Cornell University ornithology lab. 

I was the willow and the earth;

I was the badger and the hill;

I was the moss and the stone;

I was the mist and the sun.

I was the deer and the meadow;

I was the bee and the blossom’

I was the heron and the marsh;

I was the salmon and the stream.

I was the dolphin and the sea;

I was the wave and the cliffs;

I was the gull and the wind;

I was the singer and the song.

I was the dreamer and the dream. 

FOUR YEARS AND ONLY THE NAMES HAVE CHANGED

I'm cleaning up the old hard drive and ran across this. After reading stories about the CPAC speakers this week--well the names may have changed but the attitudes are alive and well. 

If you’re like me and you can remember the late sixties and early seventies with the “hard hats” and the “silent majority” you’ll probably also remember “my country right or wrong.” Imagine my surprise when I found at least one version that is just a little bit longer.

My country right or wrong; if right to be kept right and if wrong to be set right. I can live with that. Now if we could all agree on the wrongs that need to be set right. The devil truly is in the details.

Another of the “we don’t want socialism” letters in the local paper Sunday. Well, for starters, what do you mean by “we” Kemo Sabe? I don’t recall getting a call from anyone asking my opinion so let’s change we to “me, some of the people I know, and the talking heads on Fox News.” And then most of the writer’s examples refer to purely economic  matters rights. Car choice, light bulbs, temperature settings, and one that I assume refers to the minimum wage. Kind of a narrow definition of freedom in my opinion.

Last time I checked any nutcase (yes, nutcase is rather incendiary see below) in the country can start their own church, pray that our current president will die unpleasantly and end up in the hot place without any cops showing up or their churches being closed. So I guess freedom of religion as long as you aren’t a Muslim, pagan, free thinker or a member of some Peacenik, tree hugger group is alive and well.

Oh, and you’re also free to be a former child TV star turned evangelist trying to rewrite Darwin and blame evolution for the Holocaust even though it appears you have no post high school education in either science or theology. (see Kirk Cameron) Here I spent all those years going to the U of O,  LCC, surfing the web for information and haunting every bookstore I can find for good information, silly me.

The freedom to show up at a town hall where the president is speaking with an AK47 seems to be alive and well. However being an unarmed civilian anywhere near the G20 meetings last week in Pittsburg didn’t seem to entitle them to the same protections. It’s my firm belief that being required to get a parade permit in order to exercise the right to speak as long as you’re not spooking the horses, scaring the kids, or shocking the parson is NOT A GOOD THING. Although past history suggests that it would be hard to shock some of the modern parsons.

There’s a fair amount of anecdotal evidence that Saudi oil money built most of the Wahabi madrassas in the border areas of Pakistan.(one source Three Cups of Tea-really good book) So, yeah if you wanted to buy a big ass pickup a few years ago (and didn’t have something similarly big assed to haul) well gee I wonder how much American money ended up funding the training of the young men who are shooting at us now?

And it’s not just our driving. The average American meal has traveled 1,500 miles by the time it gets to our tables. (source Animal, vegetable, miracle by Barbara Kingsolver) And since synthetic fertilizers and many pesticides have a petroleum base, trying to cut down on oil use takes on a whole other dimension.

We appear to still have the right to vote for the Republican or Democrat of our choice. That is unless you lived in some urban, largely minority neighborhoods in Ohio back in 2004. Precincts that did not have enough voting machines, were lucky that the majority of them worked, and found the doors closed promptly at 8 PM even though potential voters had been waiting in line for hours.

As for that pesky minimum wage; well hon, if you’re an employer see if your workers will work for straight commissions. If you’re a worker I guess to be true to your ethics you should tell your boss you’re willing to work for what he/she is willing to pay and we won’t worry about those pesky overtime regulations.

As I worked on this I realized the list keeps getting longer and longer. After all it costs more to hire licensed electricians, plumbers, contractors you name it. Of course if you hire someone who can prove they have the training there’s a good chance your new wiring won’t short out and burn the house down. It costs more to make sure work places, packing plants, and eateries are clean and safe. I guess to be true to your non interference ethic you shouldn’t call the health department if you come down with food poisoning because a careless or  poorly trained part timer didn’t sanitize the tools and work surfaces after they diced the raw chicken before the salad veggies were prepped.

As I said at the beginning, the devil does seem to be in the details since I suspect that my ---------wrongs to be righted might just turn out to be someone else’s keep what is right, right. 

BAKING AN AMERICAN PIE

How can we fix the mess we’re in? Starting with the across the board sequester. I can think of a few ideas. Reward companies that create jobs in the US or bring jobs back.to this country with tax breaks. Penalize the companies that don't. End most farm subsidies, especially for corn and soybeans. If they're growing so much corn they can turn it into sugar or dump so much cheap corn in foreign markets that it drives their farmers off the land they don't need the taxpayers help. End the loophole that allows companies to build, sew or manufacture most of a product overseas and still claim it's American made. On the health end, accept the fact that we're all going to die someday. an unhealthy percentage of our health care dollars are spent in the last year of life trying to delay the inevitable  When it's time plant me in the garden under something prickly and difficult to eradicate (I wish). I'm guessing that anyone who reads this can come up with suggestions of their own.

We can either try to tax a shrinking pie or we can try to bake a bigger pie.”

NATURAL WONDERS

This is a fairly wonderful thing to know.

"Every day a forty foot tree takes up fifty gallons of dissolved nutrients from the soil, raises the mixture to the top of the tree. In the process it converts the nutrients into ten pounds of carbohydrates and releases sixty cubic feet of oxygen into the atmosphere." From Nature Speak by Ted Andrews.

Now imagine a whole forest doing the this every day. Next time you see a tree thank it for the gifts of the air be breath, the shade for the leaves, the wonderful scent in spring.

DADDY;S KNEE

Sis has found a wonderful man. He won't replace Rick, but she's too darn young to spend the rest of her life alone. ANYWAY, they wanted some kid pics to do a slideshow for the wedding. In the photo album I found a copy of this poem. She probably wrote it for a lit class, who knows when. 

Dad was a logger, he was usually out and gone by the time we got up in the morning. One day, it seems, she was up early and got to spend some special time with dad. 

I remember one morning, I was four or five

And I sat upon your knee.

You were dressed for work n your hickory shirt,

When I sat upon your knee.

I was up too early, but you let me stay,

So I sat upon your knee.

Mom cooked for you, it smelled so good,

While I sat upon your knee.

Your salt & pepper beard felt both soft and rough,

As I sat upon your knee.

Too soon you left, I wished you would stay,

So I could stay upon your knee.

I felt so safe, your arms so strong,

Your lap so warm, your smile so kind,

As I sat upon your knee.

At times I wish I could climb in your lap for good,

To sit upon your knee.

Your daughter Roberta

PROPHETS OR PROFITS

"George Bush is no kind of Christian... Christians believe in the Prophets,
'Peace be upon them'. Bush believes in the Profits, and how to get a piece
of them."    George Galloway

I’m trying to if not clean up, at least reorganize my hard drive.  And I came across some interesting things. Just replace George Bush with the Republican of your choice and the quote from the last administration STILL works. Especially if you fill in the name of the last Republican candidate for president. Especially when there's evidence that the said candidate started his business with money from folks whose actions would have put them on the "you don't want to be around when the Lord shows up with the broom and dustpan" list.

THE GINGHAM DOG AND THE CALICO CAT

Substitute Democrat and Republican, especially the Republicans, and this is a perfect description of how the political climate has changed since the last two election cycles.  

(picture from the web)

The gingham dog and the calico cat  

Side by side on the table sat.

T’was half past twelve and (what do you think!)

Nor one nor t’other had slept a wink!

The old Dutch clock and the Chinese plate

Appeared to know as sure as fate

There was going to be a terrible spat

(I wasn’t there; I simply state

What was told to me by the Chinese plate!)

The gingham dog went “Bow-wow-wow!”

And the calico cat replied “Mee-ow!)

The air was littered, an hour or so,

With bits of gingham and calico,

While the old Dutch clock in the chimney-place

Up with its hands before its face,

For it always dreaded a family row!

(Now mind: I’m only telling you

What the old Dutch clock declares is true!)

The Chinese plate looked very blue,

And wailed, “Oh, dear! What shall we do!)

But the gingham dog and the calico cat

Walled this way and tumbled that,

Employing every tooth and claw

In the awfulest way you ever saw—

And oh, how the gingham and calico flew!

(don’t fancy I exaggerate—I got my news from the Chinese plate!)

Next morning, where the two had sat

They found no trace of dog or cat;

And some folks think unto this day

That burglars stole that pair away!

But the truth about that cat and pup

Is this: they ate each other up!

Now what do you really thing of that!

(the old Dutch clock it told me so,

And this is how I came to know.)

The gingham dog and the calico cat  

Side by side on the table sat.

T’was half past twelve and (what do you think!)

Nor one nor t’other had slept a wink!

The old Dutch clock and the Chinese plate

Appeared to know as sure as fate

There was going to be a terrible spat

(I wasn’t there; I simply state

What was told to me by the Chinese plate!)

The gingham dog went “Bow-wow-wow!”

And the calico cat replied “Mee-ow!)

The air was littered, an hour or so,

With bits of gingham and calico,

While the old Dutch clock in the chimney-place

Up with its hands before its face,

For it always dreaded a family row!

(Now mind: I’m only telling you

What the old Dutch clock declares is true!)

The Chinese plate looked very blue,

And wailed, “Oh, dear! What shall we do!)

But the gingham dog and the calico cat

Walled this way and tumbled that,

Employing every tooth and claw

In the awfulest way you ever saw—

And oh, how the gingham and calico flew!

(don’t fancy I exaggerate—I got my news from the Chinese plate!)

Next morning, where the two had sat

They found no trace of dog or cat;

And some folks think unto this day

That burglars stole that pair away!

But the truth about that cat and pup

Is this: they ate each other up!

Now what do you really thing of that!

(the old Dutch clock it told me so,

And this is how I came to know.)

By Eugene Field

THE FOUR FREEDOMS REDUX

I posted this back in 2009 and it's still good. Norman Rockwell was really good wasn't he? 

It was January 6, 1941 and President Franklin Roosevelt was preparing to give the State of the Union address required by the constitution. Great Britain and her colonies had been at war with Germany since September 1939. Poland had been split between Germany and the Soviet Union. Western Europe was under occupation; Dunkirk evacuated. Hitler’s Germany turned her attention to the east in June of 1940 and the Soviet armies crumbled. At the beginning of 1941 many Americans were still isolationist at heart. Roosevelt tried to use his speech to define what was at stake; what we might have to fight for.

It’s hard to remember that the United States still had eleven months to go before December 7 of that fateful year. Eleven months left while we could still pretend that the United States would remain free of the war engulfing the rest of the world.

President Roosevelt attempted to define what he called the Four Freedoms. These were Freedom of Speech, Freedom of Worship, Freedom from Fear, and Freedom from Want. The president who told that the only thing we had to fear to fear be fear itself was bold enough to say that along with the other freedoms being free from fear was also a right. Two years later, in 1943, from late February to early March, the Saturday Evening Post used four painting by Norman Rockwell to illustrate these freedoms.

The paintings toured the country in 1943 in a bond drive that raised $130,000,000 in support of the war effort. The paintings were even used as postage stamps.

I love the faces and images in these paintings. These are faces that you could see everyday. It’s nice to believe that anyone can still stand up in a town meeting and say his or her piece whether they’re wearing a suit and tie or a flannel shirt and blue jeans. There is a confidence in that face. The confidence that what he has to say will get a hearing; that he will listen to what others have to say.

The table in the Freedom from Want painting looks strangely bare by the standards we’ve become used to since 1943. But the family is together and it looks like there is enough to go around. And both my grandmothers wore those little cotton dresses and it seemed like they had an apron for everyday of the week.

Our newspapers, TV news and internet news remind us every day that there are many places in this world that Freedom to Worship is still a dream. My little hometown had a population of about four thousand and at least a dozen different churches. While we argue among ourselves in the United States most of us can still go to the house of worship of our choice without fear of attack and with the assurance that we’ll find the church there when we arrive for services.

I believe that the painting that moves me the most now is the one for Freedom from Fear. That freedom seems to be the hardest one to find. A few things have changed since 1943. Most children don’t have to share a bed with a little brother or sister these days. Actually, many kids don’t even have to share a room, much less a bed. And that war news may be found over the net or TV instead of a newspaper; but the war news is still there. And the fear card has been played over and over during the past few years.

Fast forward about sixty two years to an incident described in this excerpt from a 2006 column by Leonard Pitts who writes for the Miami Herald.  I’m not sure what kind of uniforms these gentlemen were wearing but my imagination is a fertile one. It isn’t hard to go back sixty years or so and supply black or brown shirts and red arm bands. The faces change; the fear doesn’t. And I still have trouble wrapping my mind around the idea that internet porn is a threat to national security.

"The following happened in the United State of America on February 9 of this year.

The scene is the Little Falls branch of the Montgomery County Public Library in Bethesda, Maryland. Business is going on as usual when two men in uniform stride into the main reading room and call for attention. Then they make an announcement.

It is forbidden to use the library's computers to view Internet pornography.

As people are absorbing this, one of the men challenges a patron about a Web site he is visiting and asks the man to step outside. At this point, a librarian intervenes and calls the uniformed men aside. A police officer is summoned. The men leave. It turns out they are employees of the county's department of Homeland Security and were operating far outside their authority."

Pitts goes on to describe how hard it is for the fifty one percent of respondents to a recent poll to imagine what it would be like to have to ask for permission to travel, watch a movie, read what you want, even have someone stay at your house without asking someone if it's ok. And that because we're in a war against terrorism doesn’t give a government employee the right to come in and look over you shoulder to see what you're reading or viewing on a computer screen. Of course the poll didn't ask their respondents answering their questions which freedoms they were willing to give up in the "fight against terror."

Contrast FDR's dream with the last few years. Too many are still a paycheck away from finding very little food on the table. Too often we shout each other down instead of listening. Too many of us are too willing to see persecution where it may not exist and forget that our churches, synagogues and mosques are still standing here. Something that isn’t always true in too many other countries. And worst of all. The fear card has been played over and over.

KITTYBUGS

Image created by Okielady.

Another conundrum from Nature Speak.

If your cat sleeps in the flower bed do you need to worry about your petunias getting fleas? Of if your cat has ladybugs?

GRAND CANYON BY STAR LIGHT

From NASA's Astronomy Picture of the Day website. Taken with a fixed tripod, the star with no streaks is the North Star. The colors have been enhanced to show the beautiful rock stratas by early moonlight. The age of the rocks range from about 200 million years old at the top to almost 2 billion years old at the bottom.   In Scots Gaelic one of the words for Creator is Cruithear; "the one who harps." That harper was doing a fantastic job that day when this song was composed. 

WHISTLE WHISKERS

Midge has finally gotten big enough to get all the way under the little, braided area rug. I'd love to get a picture of that. But so far, all we have is a picture of a lump. not a whisker or a tail tip showing. And even if I could, a black cat in the shadow of a dark green rug? Ears and a chin? Maybe

THE GREAT SONG

Celtic mythology is based on the Oran Mor, the Great Song. Where the Bible has the Creative Word. For Ekhart every creature is a Word of God.  For the Celts it's The Song. Each fish, bird, caterpillar, butterfly, tree is one song in the greater song. It's as if Creation were the score for an infinite symphony. Only instead of parts for flutes or oboes or trumpets; the parts are for winds or storms or seas or dolphins or mountains or stars or the earth itself into infinity.

Quiet—

Eternal Quiet

Not even the sound of the restless, stirring, dark waters could be heard.

Then…

A great spiraling strain of Melody moved across the endless waters.

Subdued at first,

Then quickly gathering momentum until it reached a great crescendo.

And, then…

There was Life!

But the Melody did not stop.

It continued its song,

Filling all of Creation with its divine harmony.

And so it continues today,

For all those who listen.

From the Oran Mor: A Song for a Fragmented World by Frank A Mills. If the Creator stops singing the song, Creation may end.