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A CALL TO ARMS

A CALL TO ARMS

Monday, September 17, 2012
My mind is so filled up with thoughts I cannot release them quickly enough.  My heart is so full of feelings they are backing up and flooding the terrain of my inner landscape.  “Write!”, that whispered directive comes again.  And again.  And again.  But when I sit down, the thoughts and feelings tangle up so that I don’t know what to release onto the paper…

I hear the blowing of the shofar, calling us to arms.  The split between the polarities in our world is widening, the dark is becoming deep and murky; the light is radiant and intense.  Those who are awake, alert, and aware look unflinchingly at the destruction and suffering we have collectively created—whether by intention, complicity, compliance, passivity or ignorance.  Helpless, angry, we wonder why those to whom we gave the power to resolve these problems are failing us.  We read.  We talk and rail.  Some sign petitions.  Some march.  Some strike.  Some do political work.  Some advocate for causes—there are hundreds of causes.  It all seems a drop in the bucket.
We are invited to fine-tune our listening, for we may hear a call to arms of a different kind: weapons of love, forgiveness, compassion, gratitude, joy, courage, kindness.  The real battles we fight are in the mind fields where thoughts are the bullets and the bombs; better thoughts of love and healing, than hatred and destruction!  With this new way of warring, sieges of our cities are done with random acts of kindness and with the proliferation of projects that heal our Earth and one another.  We end this war by raising the energy vibrations of ourselves and one another and the very Earth and restoring balance in the energy fields of Earth, of Sea and Air and all who dwell within them.
Re-creating a world where all may thrive will only happen if each of us is first willing to call a cease-fire within ourselves.  It takes just as much commitment and work and courage and perseverance to “fight” from within the Light as it does for those on either side of the line battling with the same weapons with the goal of destroying the “other”, or at least the work of the other.  The two have very different outcomes, however.  Battling against ego with ego, fighting hatred with hatred, raging against what we name “evil” from our fear; nothing changes no matter which side has their King on the Hill and their day of Occupation and Victory.  But entering the battle with weapons of love, like the Sun burning off the fog, the Light begins to replace the Darkness.
I like the idea that time isn’t linear because it has taken me years to fully wake up, and more years to fully grasp the concepts of what it means to let go of Ego, to love my enemies, to root up old, toxic beliefs that tainted the Love that flowed through me.  It is taking me even more years beyond those to lay down new habits of thought and belief and action that are grounded in gratitude and joy, compassion and forgiveness.  But gradually this noisy gong and clanging cymbal has quieted and is now willing to not only enter the river, but to become the river—the River of Life, which is Love, which is Light.

THE BEAST

Demons.
Each one, teach one.
How to do battle.
How to fall/sink/slink/slither/survive.
How to rise once again.
How to raise the pen, muster the energy, write for one’s life.

          – Joyce Yamamoto

July 16, 2012

I don’t want to be swallowed by this Beast again.  No, not today.

It used to be quick and painless; swallowed whole in the blink of an eye.  The pain came in the hellish living in the Belly of the Beast.  There is little pleasure in having one’s parts slowly digested.  Worse was the extraction; the fighting to escape all the while knowing that although outside was the promise of sunshine and fresh air—there would be no freedom.  The Beast does not surrender.

But I have learned a powerful secret.  I have learned that the Beast has no teeth, and no power.  Why else could I still be whole and strong after spending so much of my life in It’s belly?  I hold the power.  I command the Beast.  And I am free.

But sometimes I grow small and the Beast rises, furious and feral.  With It’s terrible claws It rips into the flesh of my mind.  All the while, I hear It’s cruel laughter mocking me for the weak-kneed craven I’ve become.  I hold the power.  I am stronger than It.  I know the magic that calls the Light and I know where the springs of joy are hidden within me.  I know the words of Love that will slay the Beast quicker than any sword.  I try to focus on these truths; faster and faster the Beast’s companions spin their illusions and I struggle to remember that these terrible razor-wire barricades are not real.  I huddle terrified in what I think is the corner of this prison, blind to the spaciousness all around me, blind to the throbbing power of Angels and Warriors at my back awaiting my command.

It takes me torn and bleeding, broken by the powerful gnashing of It’s toothless jaws, into the dark stench of It’s belly.  The worst of it is that I know where I am and I know how I got here and yet, I allowed it.  I don’t know which is the greater pain, the shame of this submission, or the hell of this place.
I am afraid to answer the question, “Why?”.  Why do I allow this?  I have the power within me to never allow this again.  Why do I?  
I hold a tiny cutworm on the end of my finger and I have my answer.  These tiny doubts feeding quietly at the base of my intentions, my hopes, my dreams.  A writer you say?  Gnaw, gnaw, gnaw.  Oh, here’s a juicy stem, fat and ripe with health—gnaw, gnaw, gnaw.  And, here, look at this thriving little seedling intent on growing up to be financially successful—gnaw, gnaw, gnaw.  And this…and here…oh!  Silently the strength begins to bleed from me.  Then I begin to hemorrhage.  Drawn to the smell of blood, the Beast descends.  And although I know all this, I am tired and I am angry and I am discouraged and I cower in my imagined corner, convinced it is too difficult—that it takes more energy than I am willing to expend to battle the Beast.  It feasts.
But not today.  Today I rise again.

I WANT TO BE A RAINBOW THINKER

April 18, 2012
On Being Light…
Pure, perfect, unbroken Light is white.
Pure, white light contains the full spectrum of Color.  When we break Light—when we divide it—we see the colors of the Rainbows.
Darkness is the absence of Light.  Darkness is Black…yet it contains all the potential possibilities of all the Colors that exist; needing only Light to reveal them.
Look around at the people, the creatures, the world revolving through it’s days and nights.  Mostly what we see, mostly what we experience, mostly what we ourselves embody are fragments of perfect wholeness: the colors that result when Light is broken.
BROKEN LIGHT
Our brilliant perfection has been
Unbraided and shot through
The Prism of Time and Space—
Our wholeness forgotten;
Unconscious of our Oneness.
We are Broken Light,
Fragments of White Perfection;
And In all our incarnations we have now become the Brilliance of the Rainbow.
We are magnificent.
We take away the Breath of the Universe.
Love is the Sun shining through a stained-glass window.
Joy is the riot of color in a wild poppy field in June.
Gratitude is the mirrored reflection in still water of
blue sky and flaming sun and green-crowned trees.
We are precious Light
set free to experience this one fragment of perfection.

LETTER TO A HOMELESS YOUTH

April 5, 2012

I am so thankful that you have found a place and people to help you heal and to create the life that you came here to this Earth to live.  There are so many cruel, painful, terrible things happening all around us in our world, and you have seen and experienced some of them.  You know this.  But all around you there is also beauty, and goodness and love and possibility.  I know this. 

Once I was in Seattle, waiting to catch a plane to somewhere else.  For several days it had been cold, with a drizzly rain that never quits, occasionally building into a torrential downpour before receding again to a miserable drizzle.  The plane took off and as we rose into the clouds, I couldn’t see anything out my window but a grey-white blank.  Then, suddenly the flat white began to thin into ragged wisps and above our little plane was brilliant blue sky with a fiery sun shining down.  Then, out my little window I could see mountain tops sticking far up above the clouds, their snow caps sparkling in the sunlight.  The plane climbed higher and the clouds that were cutting Seattle off from the sunlight were now below us and looked like heaps of white snow piled up. 

Sometimes what we experience in life is dark, dismal, frightening.  Emotionally we may feel like nothing good or beautiful will ever come to us.  Then we begin to believe it and respond to the world around us defensively and angrily–“Who the hell decided I got picked to have a crap life?”

Maybe if you feel that nothing beautiful or good will come to you, you need to go find IT.  Just today, look for things that are beautiful, that make you smile.  Find at least one thing.  Notice each act of kindness that you experience…and act kindly to someone, at least once.  Did you eat today?  Did it taste wonderful?  Do you have a place to sleep tonight?

Tomorrow, do it again.  Begin to count up all the beautiful and good things you see and experience and DO.  Just today.  Each “today” as it arrives. 

That is how we open up the way for Love to heal our hearts and minds.  And it is that healing that opens up the way for more good stuff–possibilities and opportunities–to “come to us”.  They don’t really come to us…they were always there.  We just couldn’t see them.  Like the sun shining above the storm clouds.  It is always there, we just can’t see it until the clouds are swept aside–or somehow we are able to rise up above them.

I send Light and Love to you…I hope you see it today.

Be at Peace…you are finding your way.

SAWABONA…I SEE YOU

February 15, 2012
Whatever is occurring in the present moment is what we need to deal with right now. Staying with our real experience of ourselves and our situation will teach us exactly what we need to know for growth. (The Wisdom of the Enneagram, 346)

Her black eyes snapped at me across the table.  “No, you don’t have to think this way.  You’re White.” 

I thought that I understood “white privilege”.  I thought that I understood the friends that I have that are not white.  My awareness of the color of their skin and the ethnic identifiers molded into the flesh of their dear faces is no more or less important to me than their height and their weight and the sound of their laughter.  Because of our common desire to bring healing to the world through living and facilitating a restorative life-style, I think without thinking that we share the same corrective lens prescription in order to see the world with 20/20 vision.  

When I come to the table with these women, what is important to me is how our hearts and minds connect.  I don’t think about the differences in our heritage.  I don’t think about how these differences shape the meaning we attach to events, to language, to communication and decision making processes.  They are “just women”, as I am a woman.  They are my colleagues.  They are my mentors and my teachers and my friends.  I see them as wise.  I see their accomplishments.  I respect and admire their courage and their strength.  I have learned much from them.  I treasure their support.  I trust them.  I am known by them. 

She leaned across the table toward me, trying to make my white brain understand.  “You get to think this way.  You’re White.” 

Today I realize how very shallow is my knowledge of these dear women.  There are entire chapters of their stories that I do not even know exist; chapters that are outside my ability to ever fully understand or comprehend.  

Today I am made keenly aware that the differences in how we have been enculturated DO shape the meaning we attach to events, to language, to communication and decision making processes.  Today I am more cognizant to what respectful inclusivity requires; to the clear need to check and recheck our assumptions, our perceptions, our semantics.  Did I not know this?  Of course I knew this!  I teach this!  But today I am pressed to go much deeper.  Today I wonder about the lenses I wear as a white woman when I am with my friends who are not.

Someday, if my love is true, my heart faithful, they might allow me to sit with their pain and their grief.  If I am willing, they might be willing to release upon me their stuffed up, stifled and swallowed rage.  I would have to be as strong as the rocks upon which the waves break and crash, and as yielding as fertile soil.  I would have to embody all the thoughtless, insensitive, defensive, abusive and racist white people that my friends have encountered, and still remain the woman who sees the precious, brilliant jewel glowing inside their dark-skinned bodies. 

Today, I grieve.  Old wounds in the hearts of my friends are bleeding again because I have perpetuated living life and doing business according to the way of the white man.  On one level I didn’t know; it was not intentional.  But at a deeper level, I knew something was not okay about the decisions being made, decisions I participated in making.  And I did not stop.  I did not step forward to stop others.  I didn’t “have their backs”.
Today, I grieve.  I am connected to these women on a level that pays no mind to the dense energy that is our bodies.  Therefore, when one is hurting, we all hurt.  When we tear the fabric of the field of energy into which we are all woven, we tear apart our own soul. 
Today, I grieve.  I only hope these tears will heal my blindness. 
Next time I sit across the table from my friend, may I see her.  Fully.
Sawabona. “I see you.  I respect you. I value you. You are important to me”.
Shikoba.  “Therefore, I exist for you”.

I CAN SEE CLEARLY NOW

February 13, 2012


I can see clearly now, the rain is gone.

I can see all obstacles in my way.

Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind.

It’s gonna be a bright (bright), bright (bright)

Sun-Shiny day.


I think I can make it now, the pain is gone.

All of the bad feelings have disappeared.

Here is the rainbow I’ve been prayin’ for.

It’s gonna be a bright (bright), bright (bright)

Sun-Shiny day.


Look all around, there’s nothin’ but blue skies.

Look straight ahead, nothin’ but blue skies.


I can see clearly now, the rain is gone.

I can see all obstacles in my way.

Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind.

It’s gonna be a bright (bright), bright (bright)

Sun-Shiny day.
….by Johnny Nash.
I was sung awake by Fairies this morning.  I could not remember the rest of the lyrics, but the refrain was stuck on repeat in my mind: It’s gonna be a bright (bright), bright,
Sun-Shiny day.  The sun in fact was shining outside, etching the houses with early morning Rose Gold.  I felt physically light; happy blood coursing through my body.  I felt like I’d swallowed a sun.
It is my birthday.  Someone wished me happiness for my “new year”, something we often wish each other on our birthdays.  I smiled because a soft secret was unfolding inside me.  I AM HAPPY!
Perhaps this sounds a bit lame to my readers who are able to jump out of bed nearly every morning, filled with curiosity, a smile on their lips.  But my readers who understand that sheets can sometimes weigh up to 500 lbs. know the significance of getting up one morning and feeling that a deep well of happiness has opened up inside of you.
 
Later in the morning I was gifted with the source of the persistent tune in my brain and the lyrics to the song.  I Can See Clearly Now by Johnny Nash. 
Last year I was gifted with a new friend who knows all about being joyful.  She is one of those people who smile all the time.  And it is genuine.  Not a nervous smile.  Not a “fixed face”.  A genuine, unconscious expression of her connection to joy.
She lent me a book about Joy, and later gave me an old cassette tape of a presentation that someone gave about joy.  And, I was gifted last year also with the privilege of taking an on-line course with the famous teacher, Jean Houston to help me understand my life purpose.  She talked a lot about joy.
 
It was a year of revelations for me.  A year of choices—to travel a path of Love and Joy and what it will require of me, or continue the rocky road I’ve been building for decades.  I, of course, chose the path of Love and Joy—wasn’t this what I’d been trying for 30  years to make myself into—a woman who lives from a healed heart of love?
I chose and God responded.  I was shown where I’d buried all the toxic anger and rage and shame that has been leaking its poison into my life for as long as I was aware enough to know it was wise to bury unspeakable thoughts and feelings.  Was I willing to dig that up and dispose of it properly?
I was shown a book of beliefs written in my own blood—negative beliefs that have nothing to do with the love and joy that are the fabric of the Universe.  Was I willing to give them up and write new ones?
I was challenged to practice love and joy in the face of my greatest fear—that I would be abandoned, forgotten, unloved.  Would I choose love and joy with no guarantees of outcome?
I was ready.  I said yes, and yes, and yes and kept my feet on the path.  Through the tumultuous spring.  Through the heat of summer.  Through the uncertainties of the Fall.  Through the confusion of the Holidays.  Into the dawn of this auspicious year—2012.
Yes, I believe I was serenaded into waking by Fairies…and maybe a few Angels this morning.  Perhaps they are the same ones who were around when I entered the world more than half a century ago. 
I think I can make it now, the pain is gone.

All of the bad feelings have disappeared.

Here is the rainbow I’ve been prayin’ for.

It’s gonna be a bright (bright), bright (bright)

Sun-Shiny day.
It’s Marvelous Monday, it’s my birthday, and it is gonna be a bright, bright, bright Sun-Shiny year!

ON BUILDING BRIDGES

January 25, 2012

Mistakes are the usual bridge between inexperience and wisdom.

~ Phyllis Theroux


ON BUILDING BRIDGES

Knowledge is information. It is cerebral. It is about “knowing stuff”. We acquire knowledge from books and from listening to lectures and by observation.


Learning requires that we engage in some form of action that involves application of our knowledge. We must experience the knowledge. It is a process. We read a recipe and then we chop and mix and simmer and season. Now we have learned what it is to make soup. We read about healing a relationship and then we gather our courage and speak of that which is in our heart to our friend, our beloved, our colleague. We are learning to make human connection that heals.


Engaging in the learning process of applying our knowledge involves many lessons. A baby taking his first steps does not run around the block. In fact, he falls down every few steps! The first number of times I share honestly from my heart my words and tone may be mixed with fear, anger and defensiveness. It will be messy. But how else will I learn to run if I do not first learn to walk? How else will I learn to forgive and to love unconditionally if I do not first release that which prevents my forgiving and loving? How do I release my negative energy and cleanse old wounds or new without first acknowledging my pain? Like the baby letting go of the edges of furniture, like the six-year-old giving up his bicycle training wheels, will I find the courage to release my old defenses and mistrust? Initially, how could I not be awkward, like the baby stepping out on his own across the wide expanse of the living room?


Learning involves making missteps. It involves falling off the bicycle a few times before riding down the trail. Before I grow proficient and wise I will burn the dinner, cut my finger, drown a cactus, fold a few loads of pink stained laundry, starve a hamster, show up to meetings completely unprepared and yes, cause a sweet child to cry. And my friend. And my colleague. And the tired waitress who I criticized for the messed up order.


Active application of knowledge is to learning what experience is to wisdom. I like the image of mistakes being the bridge between inexperience and wisdom. Each time I mess up in a relationship, if I am willing to step back and observe what happened, I gain a piece of knowledge—a board in my hand. If I apply that knowledge the next time I am in a similar situation with someone, I am learning—how to trust, perhaps, or how to love, or growing the quality of patience. I hammer that board into place, building my bridge. Each time I am given the opportunity to practice this new learning, I gain experience. More boards, more nails; the bridge is growing, reaching for the other shore. In time, my experience produces proficiency and skill in my ability to communicate—including being able to forgo judgment and knowing when to hold my tongue. The sum of my knowledge, learning and experience makes it possible for me to trust and to love much more deeply and unconditionally than that first day when I looked inside my heart and saw the mess that was there. My bridge is complete. I’m on the other side.


My life is an interesting study in bridges. All manner of designs, materials and lengths, some are currently under construction. Many are beautiful and complete and provide me access to interesting lands. A few that once were lovely have fallen into disrepair. Have you ever defaulted into old behavior patterns and had to learn again an old lesson?


Today’s Practice

Rather than seeing my mistakes as endpoints or failures, today I regard them as necessary bridges to eventual understanding.

ON BEING UNWILLING TO FULFILL OUR PURPOSE

December 2, 2011

Yesterday I walked up the road to the tracks in an inch of fresh snow fallen during the night. A bright blue sky, sun diamonds at my feet and sparkling along the boughs of trees. A red-headed woodpecker inspected a tree I stood beside. Above me a family of little House Finches were playing musical chairs.

The morning was soft-spoken. A tree laden with brilliant orange berries hung over the road, backlit by the brilliant blue of the sky.

An apple tree came into view. A few dozen apples, grey and shriveled hung from the branches where they had lived the one life they had known. Each wore a little white cap of snow. Too afraid to give themselves to their greater purpose, they clung steadfastly to the first truth of life they had known. Though the time came to grow beyond the delight of summer sun and gentle rains and give themselves to nourish others—to experience falling into the hand of a child, or the pie-maker, or the embrace of Earth and the hungry Doe—they clung to their little branch until their time expired. There they remain, lifeless, swaying in the brilliant winter morning.

A wave of sadness washed gently over me. They would not share their life, but in their death they have inspired me to live without fear.

THOUGHTS ABOUT "THRIVE"

November 28, 2011


I like Brenda Ueland’s admonition to “keep a slovenly, headlong, impulsive, honest diary” as her solution to the need for writers to write everyday. I too often spend my energy beating myself up for all the days I haven’t done this, or the walk I didn’t take or the cleaning I didn’t do or the meditation I skipped—how silly is this? What is the appeal to this way of living that draws my Ego like a drug? My daily Shame fix. Would I know how to live without it?

Shrugging off the crave, I look around me and I keep my promise to myself. I will focus today on beauty, on what gives me joy, on feeling wonderful. I will smile through my day and radiate love to others. If that is all I achieve, it will be enough. At least for today.

I watched THRIVE last night, a comprehensive documentary on the state of the world and how we got to where we are. It matter-of-factly presents research that confirms all kinds of conspiracy theories that we haven’t wanted to believe. We are shown where we have, and continue to trustingly, gullibley participate in our own destruction. We are confronted with what our world is quickly becoming if nothing is done to stop it. This is one wake-up call that makes it difficult to hit the snooze button and go back to sleep. I am stunned and sobered. I realize that anger and rage will not change anything—unless it is the only way I am able to remain awake. Unless it is the only fuel that will propel me to action. But what action? What do we do when we are filled with raging anger? Try to fight a monster equipped with weapons of mass destruction with a paring knife?


Those who have been telling us that the answer lies in this: that we must do the internal work we need to do in order to live from our hearts, from love and kindness and forgiveness, are absolutely correct. We need to move into action led by the most powerful forces in the Universe—Light (knowledge and wisdom) and Love (kindness, forgiveness, compassion) and Joy (creative power). Darkness is displaced only when we cause light to shine, no matter how small the light. Love has always triumphed over fear and hate. Joy allows creative energy to flow.

I watched another film, 2012: A Message of Hope . And, despite the suffering and sorrow and horrors and all that is at stake on our planet, the message was: “Do not fear. Meditate. Be led by your heart. Do what you do from Love.” Love is the opposite of fear. And science has proven that the electro-magnetic field of our heart is much more powerful than that of our brain. The wisdom of the heart and decisions and actions taken based on the heart have more power and generate more creativity and life than those of the brain/mind. Interesting.


Love. Gratitude. Joy. These are my talismans—that which I can activate, focus upon and allow to guide me through each day. I trust that the more I do so, the fear and dread and shame that rule so much of my life will weaken and slowly lose their grip and I will be free like I have never been. I won’t be afraid then to show up where I am needed.


And when I show up, there is one more light dispelling the darkness.


As the host of the film tells us at the end, the power wielded by those who have controlled the world completely depends on us, the people. Without our cooperation, without our collusive behavior, their power will fail. Without the darkness of our ignorance they are exposed. Will we accept the time we were born to and do what must be done to reclaim our Earth Mother and the right of Her children to thrive? Or, like the traitor in the film The Matrix, will we choose to go back to sleep?


I like this quote by George Carlin; “The owners of this country know the truth: It’s called the American dream because you have to be asleep to believe it.”

MINNESOTA IS GOING TO WAR

November 3, 2011

Minnesota is going to war. It was declared by a small, noisy group of people who hold very tightly to the belief that their understanding of the Universe, of Life and of how it all came to be is absolutely, unshakably, undeniably, fundamentally the Way that It Is. Because they believe that their knowledge is the only knowledge that is accurate and true, and includes a direct connection with the Creator of All of It, they believe any other opinion or insight, idea or belief is wrong and therefore immaterial and invalid. They therefore have little to no respect for these other positions, perspectives and beliefs. It is not a very big step then to hold little respect for the people who embrace those other positions, perspectives and beliefs. They become The Enemy, even of God Himself.

I wonder what sort of world they think this would be if we all dutifully lined up and lived our lives according to their rules? If all people everywhere abandoned their heritage, culture, their stories and beliefs and embraced the heritage, culture, and rules of this one privileged group—what would it be like? Do they have any idea? Would we all get along then—the way they do among themselves? Would this make their God finally smile and allow only good things to occur upon the Earth? Would this One be willing then to bail us out of our foolish ways that have poisoned the very Earth this One entrusted to us to care for and enjoy? What is it they expect to happen when they take back their state and their country for their God and away from those who follow a different Way…?

Minnesota is going to war. A few of the representatives of this small, noisy group who hold positions of political power have introduced a proposal to amend the Minnesota Constitution to declare that a man absolutely may not enter into legal marriage with another man, nor a woman with another woman. (S.F. No. 1308) This is one legal contract that this group believes is sacred and by divine law may only be entered into by one man and one woman together. They are determined to see this amendment pass next November and are mobilizing their forces to see to it that it does. There will be thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands, maybe millions of dollars spent on advertising in order to amplify their angry voices and fill the airwaves with their brand of righteousness. They will be asked why such an amendment must be passed and they will tell us that our state and our country must be protected from the iniquity of such people or the wrath of God will be visited upon us. These people, homosexual people, will be vilified, as will anyone who accepts or supports them. Dung on the soles of our righteous shoes.

Minnesota is going to war. There will be those who will stand firm against this small, noisy group. They will say, “NO…this is not the way of righteousness—which only means to live with honor and integrity.” They will say, “It is not men loving men, or women loving women who have brought Judgment down upon us—if by Judgment you mean sickness, floods, financial collapse, earthquakes, tsunamis and leaking nuclear reactors, polluted waters, hurricanes, foreclosures, droughts, unemployment, tornadoes, homeless and starving, wars and rumors of war.” It is humans not loving one another. It is humans not loving the Earth. It is humans worshipping their chosen Way of Life over loving their neighbors as themselves. It is humans abdicating their personal responsibility to a vague and sinister group of puppeteers.”

And the accusations will fly. Where there might have been a paradise, there will be left only a scorched earth, whether of the heart, or the soil. And the children will be listening; they will watch and they will learn how it must be.

If there Is a God, He will weep.

Once upon a time in my life I was a member of that elite group who believes that they hold the keys to the Kingdom of God—that they alone know and understand the Truth of the Universe. When I was growing up, I had never heard of a homosexual. They lived underground and in dark closets, and the larger society was barely aware of their presence. As a young woman and a new initiate into fundamentalist Christianity, I learned of this strange practice of homosexuality and was shocked and appalled. Sex was tainted by so much shame I could barely wrap my brain around the goodness and beauty of heterosexuality, none-the-less homosexuality. I read the proscribed passages in the Bible that denounced homosexuality and that was it. It was gross, it was wrong, it was an evil thing—and those who engaged in this practice were sick and perverted; lost souls. We had to either save them, or shut them down. They were gaining publicity and fighting for rights the like of which they’d never had and never should have had and if we, the guardians of the spiritual well being of our nation did not stand firm against this latest work of Satan, who would? And so we real Christians focused on the two spawn of Satan that would take our nation down if we didn’t defeat them—the Abortionists and the Homosexuals.

And then in his 19th year, my beloved baby brother came to visit me. My beloved little brother who had always had a tender, loving soul; who was sweet and insightful; who loved God and loved people; who wanted to make the world a better place; who had a charming sense of humor. He told me he was gay. My little brother—one of those people.

I was devastated. I couldn’t believe how accepting my parents were. I railed and threatened and preached. I cried and mourned and feared for his soul. I felt like the brother I had loved had died, leaving this imposter in his place. I am sure I deeply wounded my brother with my judgment and my rejection. But he never retaliated.

It took me several years to find my way through that difficult lesson. The first breakthrough came when I went to buy him a birthday card. I was in a hurry and having shackled my affections for him, it had become difficult to find a suitable card. As I entered the card shop I threw out a silent plea, “Please help me find the right card fast!” I approached the birthday section and looked for Brother. Found it; reached out my hand and grabbed a card. I don’t remember what the outside said, only the message inside: I’m so glad you are my brother!


I stood rooted to the floor, immobilized. A quiet voice inside me asked, “So, are you glad he’s your brother?” And the tears came. I wasn’t glad. I was ashamed. And I was ashamed that I was ashamed. I was confused. My heart longed for him and yet withdrew. I stood crying in the middle of the card shop. I bought the card. And with it hope that somehow I would find my way through this and back again to Love.

Sometime later, I don’t recall now if it was months or a year, my family gathered for an afternoon. My little brother was there. He was sitting in a chair with a wide armrest and I was perched on the armrest facing him, chatting away about something. Some invisible One tapped me on the shoulder. “Notice what you are doing.” Suddenly I realized that I was enjoying this conversation with my brother. It wasn’t awkward. I wasn’t reserved and judging and anguishing. He was just—my brother.

Little by little, year by year, I learned. I grew. I found my way back to my brother. I read about the scientific studies of what causes homosexuality in those children born to it. I read about cultural attitudes and traditions in other places and in other times in history. I realized that this phenomena has always been part of our human experience—sometimes highly respected and valued, sometimes accepted as part of the whole of human experience, and less often, reviled and rejected such as we have done in our time and culture.

As I broadened my understanding and knowledge base about homosexuality, I also began to broaden my understanding and knowledge base about many other spiritual/religious truths and traditions. I think I grew up the day that I realized this One, this God, this Creator Being was just simply too unlike us, well, just too big to foolishly try to recreate in our own image and likeness and then fence into a tiny little sanctuary. I am the one who is too small to ever try to comprehend the vastness of the Universe and how it works.

My redemption came the day I figured out that no matter what else we may think about God and the Universe and who we may argue with about how it all works—what it all boils down to at the end of the day is this: did you love one another?

Love. Every religion, every culture however they may differ, seems to be grounded in and founded upon this one Truth—Love, is the most powerful Force in the Universe. Whatever we may feel we are here to do in this lifetime, all that really matters at the end of it is, did I love? This God of the Christian Right is first of all about Love—or at least that is what their Holy Scriptures say. So, how can it be love to declare war on a minority of people who are no different than themselves save for the fact that they are in love with someone of their own gender? How can it be love to tear apart our state with accusations and judgment, hostility and yes, even lies?

I suppose the Christian Right has the right to say and do what they believe is correct. Including declaring war on their own people. But, that means then that those they are declaring war upon will have to stand up and speak out for what they equally believe is true. And while everyone shouts about who is right and what is wrong—we all will lose.

I wonder what sort of world it would be if we all respected, appreciated, and learned from one another’s heritage and culture, our collective stories, experiences and beliefs? Would that make this God who created such an infinitely diverse Universe and the Earth a jewel amongst the habitable planets, smile? Would we finally then find our way to healing this beautiful Earth that our ignorance and our greed and our divisiveness has poisoned and corrupted? Could it be that taking back our country and our state for God means becoming a nation that loves first—that emulates the Good Samaritan, that is willing to become our brother’s Keeper rather than his Judge? Could it be that to be Pro-Life means not only to be anti-abortion, but pro the babies being bombed by bombs our taxes paid for—pro the homeless children (and men and women) in American cities that outnumber the homeless in all of the rest of the developed nations combined—pro the undereducated youth with no hope for their future—pro the sick who are sick because we’ve lost sight of a balanced and healthy way of being in the world—pro the depleted soil and polluted waterways and suffering creatures of the Earth?

There is certainly one thing that the Religious Right might be right about—and that is that it is all about Love.

But then, we need to see it in action.

Declaring war is never about love. It is never right.