Open Worship, a Quaker Distinctive

This was written as a first word for my Quaker community, West Hills Friends. First words are a 3-5 minute report on how god is moving in your life right now. 

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Hello, my name is Alyss and this Christmas was my fifth Christmas at West Hills. I didn't grow up a Quaker but last summer, a Friend here accused me of "being convinced by the process". I laughed but have come to think of that as the best way to describe my Quaker conversion. This process, these centuries old methods of seeking and finding, these are distinctive ways of worship and business particular to us Quakers. I've seen them work and they have convinced me. 

George Fox wrote, "Meet together, and in the measure of God's spirit wait, that with it all your minds may be guided up to God, to receive wisdom from God. That you may all come to know how you may walk up to him in his wisdom."

Here at West Hills Friends we hold our open worship to be that special and sacred place where we wait for God's spirit. And more than once, I have received some of that wisdom Fox referred to. Sounds like it would be fun, right? Hah. Being led to speak in Meeting is not, in my experience, an altogether pleasant experience. I like to talk and I like to tell people what I think and know. I mean, I'm a middle school teacher - I make a living standing up in front of big groups of people telling them what I know. But giving vocal ministry is not like that at all.
  
Silent worship is, in our Quaker understanding, a time for God to speak to us. God is speaking to us, her gathered body. God has always had to use humans' hands, mouths and wombs to do her work and through generations of lived experience we have learned that silence together is one of the best ways to prepare for hearing that voice of god. That silence is important, it is sacred, it is the path we walk on to get to the place we can hear god. And maybe be asked to share what we hear.

In 1659 early Friend, Alexander Parker wrote about giving vocal ministry: "And if any be moved to speak words, wait low in the pure fear, to know the mind of the Spirit, where and to whom they are to be spoken. If any are moved to speak, see that they speak in the power; and when the power is still, you are still."
 
Pure fear. Speak in the power and when the power is still, you are still. This is not a small task we are being called to. Silent worship has always seemed to me as akin to us all being archaeologists working on a dig. Each person is intent on the delicate work right in front of them. Giving vocal ministry is like yelling "Look - look what I found!" Everyone stops their own work with tooth brushes and dental picks to see what you found. If what you've found is good it will help everyone else with their work. But there's a chance that you are distracting them and interrupting their good work.

In my experience, being called to speak in worship is a distinctly physical experience. It starts with a thought, just like any other thought, but almost immediately there is a distinct bell that DINGS in my mind. A flag that this is important. So, my mind reacts to this notice of importance with "Oh! I should stand up and share!" But then I get a kind of sense of dread. Nope, that's just my ego talking, wanting to be seen and heard and have people think I'm witty and wise and clever. That is not what this time is for. So I sit, listening again.

Edward Burrough, an early convert under Fox wrote in 1655 "Do not be hasty, when you see things open in your minds; dwell in them, and do not run out to speak them, but treasure them up in your hearts, and take heed, and keep low in the fear of the Lord God, that pride and presumption do not get up, nor anything be exalted above what is pure."

Often, at this point, that original thought expands, contracts, continues on to something else that feels different than my own thinking and again the bell DINGS. By this time, though, the No often comes from my ego... "I am so not standing up and saying THAT". What before felt like a message that would get me applauded now feels like a message that would bare my innermost tender and gooey parts. I am not saying that out loud. At about this time my stomach starts to hurt and my knees feel weak. Denial on the edge of panic. No no, no. But the message won't go away and by now it is clear that god has tapped me on the shoulder to say this thing. She's waiting, standing behind me with my arms crossed waiting, like Yahweh listening to Moses give all the reasons he can not possibly go talk to Pharaoh, both of them knowing full well Moses is gonna go talk to Pharaoh.
 
Other people speak and I am temporarily relieved. Sweet, off the hook! But then the silence falls and I'm back on that hook. Finally I can't stand it. The pressure is too much or Mike asks if "all hearts are clear" and mine most certainly is not. I stand and start to speak. The first few words are familiar, I thought these already. But often the message moves away from my thoughts and things that had been nebulous at best come out in elegant or halting words. People often thank me for these words but I feel bashful - they weren't mine. I didn't think them, I hardly remember speaking them. When the message is done I sit down and thank goddess for whoever it was that donated those pillows 'cause I really need to hug something to me when I sit back down. The first time this happened I remember thinking, "oh! That's why we're called Quakers."

Giving vocal ministry in open worship is a Quaker distinctive. It is a thing that sets us apart from other people, other Christians, other seekers. I don't know if this is how vocal ministry works for yo, and this is not how god works for me in most other places in my life. It is a mystery and I have no explanation. I am convinced by the process, though.



Quotes from Early Friends came from Hall V Worthington's website here: http://www.hallvworthington.com/George_Fox_Selections/meetingrules.html

Walk Cheerfully Over the World

Full Journey Moon

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This was written as a first word for my Quaker community, West Hills Friends. First words are a 3-5 minute report on how god is moving in your life right now. As the school year ends I have been thinking about my first year as a teacher, and this is definitely how god is moving in my life right now  :)


I made it. The last days of the school year are over and done with, grades entered, last paperwork filed and it is summer time! My first year teaching was hard. I mean, everyone said it was going to be hard, I knew it was going to be hard, but I had no idea it was going to be HARD. Like, really, really hard. Looking back on my year I am left with ambivalent feelings about how our public schools work, but I came away crazy in love with my students and with the science I have been trying to introduce them to this year. We go into teaching, especially teaching middle school, in the hopes of changing our students and changing the world but I walked out of my school that June afternoon knowing that I had been changed as well. In 1656 George Fox wrote a letter from jail in which he reminded Friends to "be patterns, be examples in all countries, places, islands, nations, wherever you come; that your life and conduct may preach among all sorts of people, and to them. Then you will come to walk cheerfully over the world, answering that of God in every one; whereby in them ye may be a blessing, and make the witness of God in them to bless you" 

I did not walk as cheerfully as I would have liked to through this first year of teaching. I showed up at school the same day the students did and felt like I was behind the curve every day. The schedule and pace of a modern middle school are grueling and I didn't yet know how to hold time and space for the kind of human interactions I always wanted to. I got tired, depressed and even angry sometimes. But that of God in each of my students cheerfully stepped forward and blessed me each day.

Middle schoolers are intense people. They are growing so quickly that their abilities, preferences and priorities change daily. Their emotions are right under the surface, but their defenses are high. Each and every one of them was a strange, amazing and special spark of light in my life this year. S--, a beautiful, tall girl who was so worried about failing that she wrote notes to me on each test about how sorry she was that she didn't know anything and was going to fail - and got As on all her tests. C--, a guy with a round freckled face and dark hair who came dressed as a zombie baseball player at Halloween and cried when I told him I was going to email his mom because a big project was still missing. Mom was not pleased, but didn't make a big deal out of it - just made him do the work and show it to me even though I said I wouldn't score it. D--, who couldn't sit still or control his voice for even 10 minutes at the beginning of the year and by the end of the year sat quietly while other's spoke, raised his hand and waited his turn, and shared his very thoughtful comments on natural resource use and robots. I love these kids in a way that I can't even understand, like the way I love god.

I might not have been the pattern or example I wanted to be every day. Modern public schools can be inhumane places where the schedule is more important than the people. I told kids to sit down and be quiet more often than I would like - but what are my alternatives when I have 38 thirteen year olds in a room with exactly 40 seats and twelve learning targets to "get through" in 9 months. But I must have been pattern enough to be a blessing and be blessed. Late in the spring, A--, a smiling faced, touseled hair guy who was always full of "did you know..."s, held the door for me one morning. I thanked him and he replied "Anything for my favorite science teacher!" I waited a beat, and then mock exclaimed "hey! I'm your ONLY science teacher!" M--, a tall, studious and quiet sixth grader blossomed socially this year in my class. At the beginning of the year she had a really hard time being in a group with a couple rowdy kids and at parent teacher conferences her mom said "You really saw Miranda and that made all the difference for her." By the end of the year she was holding her own against all the rowdies in the room. E--, a troubled young man who also loved science but shut down with any pressure to do work, agreed to a deal with me at the end of the year. If he wrote a paper on a topic of his choice I could give him a passing grade. He did, much to everyone's surprise - and it was good, and on time. His support teacher complimented me, "He has done more work for you this year than for any other teacher in this school this year or last."

George Fox wrote "Be patterns, be examples in all countries, places, islands, nations, wherever you come; that your life and conduct may preach among all sorts of people, and to them. Then you will come to walk cheerfully over the world, answering that of God in every one; whereby in them ye may be a blessing, and make the witness of God in them to bless you" I guess this is why we become teachers, right? To be the kind of teacher we hope every kid can have, to change the world one person at a time. To be a human oriented person in a schedule oriented system. There's no guarantee that it is going to be easy, but in all the countries, places, islands and nations we can, with our life and conduct, walk cheerfully over the world and answer that of God in every one. Everyone, like B--, and L--, and O--, S--, and K--. George Fox claims it will bless them, and I know it has blessed me just to try.

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Full Journey Moon 2012: Splendiferous Adventures

Full Journey Moon 2011: June is Pagan Values Blogging Month

Full Journey Moon 2010: The Journey Moon

Full Journey Moon 2009: A Journey for the Journey Moon


This post is very much about my Quaker identity. Check out my other posts labled Quakers for more on that aspect of my spirituality and life.

Differences and Oneness

 May Day

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When God created everything, God said, "it is good." And God put God's own image in the creatures that walk on the earth. In the midst of the create there was a wonderful garden. It was God's garden. Everything was there, but everything was so close it was all together. God was with the rocks and plants and animals, and they were with God and each other.
All the people were also together in one person who was called "Everyone", or in their language, "Adam." Eve was there, too. She was always there, for she came from Adam. She and Adam were a kind of AdamEve.

In the middle of the garden grew two trees. God told AdamEve that they should not eat the fruit from those trees. One tree was about difference and one tree was about forever. If you ate the fruit of the tree of difference, you would know about differences, and if you ate from the forever tree, you would live forever.

Now the serpent was more clever than any other creature that the Lord God made. And he suggested that AdamEve taste the fruit from the tree of differences. And they did. AdamEve ate from the tree of differences and things fell apart for them. They became Adam and Eve. The difference between them and God also came apart. And the difference between good and evil did, too. 

God called for them and they hid, but God found them. They did not know how to be with God anymore, because of all the difference. There were: good and evil, close and far, high and low, God and people, Adam and Eve... and many more. 

The differences also did something wonderful. Now Adam and Eve could take things apart and put them back together again. They could be creators, almost like God. The couldn't make something out of nothing, but they could make something out of differences.

After the differences, Adam and Eve could not go back to when everything was all together in the Garden. They could only go forward and they did. God sent Adam and Eve out of the Garden. An agel and a sword was put at the edge of the Garden so they could not go back, but only go forward. God went with them on their journey to help them be the best creators they could be, and to be with God in a new way, and to stay one with God.

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This is the story of Genesis 2 as told in the Godly Play curriculum. My Quaker church uses this story based Sunday school curriculum because we know that sharing stories and talking about stories together is the best way to talk about god. The Godly Play stories are always followed by a set of wondering questions where those who heard the story can think together, out loud and silently, about what is important and meaningful in the story. Word fail us when we try to talk about god, but the pictures and metaphors in stories help us express what we know and what we are learning.

When our amazingly gifted story teller gave us this story at West Hills Friends last weekend, most of us brought with us baggage about this story. In the Bible as it is usually interpreted, this story is a story of bad news - deceit, falling from grace, being cast out of the garden, the pain of childbirth, original sin. In Christian theology Genesis 2 is usually seen as a set up for the redeeming nature of Christ's birth and an explanation for why life is so hard. It doesn't feel very redeeming. But interpreting the story just a little differently, as this version does, opens the story up in previously unthinkable ways. Like a flower in May, the story unfolds, revealing layer after layer of meaning to each visitor. 

This week, the layer I am seeing most clearly is the story of differences. They ate from the tree of differences and things fell apart. That line resonates with me right now. When things are different, when you are separated, when you see the differences between this and that, thou and I, now and then, things feel like they are falling apart. But the story has redemption! Out of the differences Adam and Eve learn to take things apart and put them back together, to create something out of the differences. 

As I sat in church, literally on the edge of my seat, and heard those words "create something out of differences" my very first thought was about literally making babies. We just wrapped up a unit on heredity in my 7th grade class and we talked a fair amount about how organisms that use sexual reproduction need one of each sex and the resulting offspring are similar but different from their parents in vital ways. Organisms that use asexual reproduction create offspring that are identical to their parents with genetic variation happening in different, possibly slower and less responsive ways. Without that core difference of biological sex, humans can not create the new thing that is babies. AdamEve were together and they were together with God, but they could not create new humans in that state. 

I also thought a lot about what state of mind AdamEve might have had in the garden, before the differences. There is a spectacular TED talk by brain researcher Jill Bolte Taylor recounting her experience of having a massive stroke. She says that when her left hemisphere, the side of our brain responsible for linear thought, categorizing, autobiographical memories and language (ya know, differences), went offline she was left in a state of timeless connection with the universe, of joy and love and energy. I wonder if this is what life was like in the garden for AdamEve. As Jill Bolte Taylor says, "in this moment we are perfect, we are whole, and we are beautiful." 

But being a whole, perfect and connected piece of the Universal Flow does not allow us to be creative. We just are. When she realized she was having a stroke and needed help, Jill Bolte Taylor could not effectively dial a phone or communicate her need. She was too busy feeling vast and limitless. Babies, in their sense of moment to moment pleasure, pain and wonder do not have the capacity to build or create. It is only when we step into the discreteness of ourselves, when we see the differences between Thou and I, between male and female, light and dark, good and evil, that we can make anything new in the world. 

My pagan theology holds at its center the sacredness of the ebb and flow of the differences in life. Lightness flows and ebbs into darkness, winter into summer, growth into decay and as these differences dance around each other life is created and sustained. In my creation story in the beginning there was One, one Goddess. She could do nothing but Be Goddess until she woke up and realized she was lonely. She, like AdamEve, tasted the fruit of difference, found her world lacking and went about the work of creating what she needed to be connected and happy.

Our job as humans is to dance the ebb and flow of differences. To know that sometimes we must feel differences, painful and separating as they may be, in order to know how to proceed in our creation of a better life. I continue to struggle with anxiety and dark emotions this spring as I work through realizations about my separateness and singularity in the world. The angel and the sword were placed at the entrance to the garden and we can not really go back, only forward. But the path forward also has room for us to dance back into that expansive, connected place of oneness with God and with each other. My walks in the woods this spring have left me more than one mouth agape at the sheer fecundity and beauty of nature. Flowers and leaves, flowing water and animals and compost. And I am a part of it! It is there in that place of connectedness that we can reclaim a memory of Eden and know what we are trying to create out of the differences. 

What differences are you dancing with this May Day?

What stories do you know or can think of that might explain how AdamEve lived in the garden?

What are you working on creating out of differences right now?

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May Day 2012: The Dauntless Youth of the Year

May Day 2011: The Brook in the King's Garden and I Didn't See Fairies when I Was Little

May Day 2010: Glory Days

May Day 2009:  May Day

A Poem Should Not Mean, But Be

New Mating Moon 

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As April winds down, so is National Poetry Month. This year, as with the last three years, I have sought out poetry each day during the month and posted my favorites to my Facebook page. Each year this exercise brings me joy and appreciation for poetry. Like so many Americans, I never read poetry as a kid. I don't even feel like I have the same dislike some people have to it because I never knew any poetry enough to dislike it. I am a word person, though, and I love the way poetry allows a writer to play with language as well as with meaning. Light brush strokes of words evoke rich images in some poems while others seem densely embroidered with word and phrase and metaphor. 

This year, I collected all 34 poems I collected into a new blog, As the Flight of Birds. This title comes from Archibald MacLeish's 1926 Ars Poetica; "A poem should be wordless, as the flight of birds...  For love, The leaning grasses and two lights above the sea— A poem should not mean, But be." Those last lines speak to me especially this spring. When do we work too hard to do anything beyond be? 

My very favorite poem from the month is another poem about being, a humorous poem. I do love the phrases, the words strung together to evoke specific sensory images. But mostly I love the character of this poem, a middle aged, paunch bellied and embarrassing old were wolf. 

No One Wants to Run Through the Woods Naked Under a Full Moon Anymore
by James S. Dorr
 
Well, first off the woods were cut down last year
for land to build the new subdivision,
and while they are nice houses, asphalt and sidewalks
are tough on bare feet, whether wolf-formed or human,
and while one can cut through yards, fences and pools
not to mention rosebushes make such ruses dangerous.
Then there are dogs, whose barking and racket
tend to ruin ambiance,
not to mention that some slip their leashes,
but killing them even if forced to seems futile—
they die too easily which ruins the sport of it—
and either way they tend to frighten off game.
Worst though is the walk back, the moon having set,
paunch-bellied and middle-aged,
clothes doffed of course prior to the transformation,
now skulking through gauntlets of giggling schoolchildren
awaiting buses, braving the glares of late commuters,
only to return to wives back home seething
in their own embarrassment.

How are you being true to yourself this spring? How are you finding ways to express yourself as the days lengthen and spring springs all around you? What is your favorie find of National Poetry Month 2014?


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New Mating Moon 2012: National Poetry Month

New Mating Moon 2011: The New Mating Moon

New Mating Moon 2010: A Flower Story for the Flower Moon

New Mating Moon 2009: The Lusty Month of May

Also, see my National Poetry Month post in 2013 and all other National Poetry Month posts!

10 maggie and milly and molly and may went down to the beach(to play one day) and maggie discovered a shell that sang so sweetly she couldn't remember her troubles,and milly befriended a stranded star whose rays five languid fingers were; and molly was chased by a horrible thing which raced sideways while blowing bubbles:and may came home with a smooth round stone as small as a world and as large as alone. For whatever we lose(like a you or a me) it's always ourselves we find in the sea - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15406#sthash.4OE8nX6N.dpuf

10 maggie and milly and molly and may went down to the beach(to play one day) and maggie discovered a shell that sang so sweetly she couldn't remember her troubles,and milly befriended a stranded star whose rays five languid fingers were; and molly was chased by a horrible thing which raced sideways while blowing bubbles:and may came home with a smooth round stone as small as a world and as large as alone. For whatever we lose(like a you or a me) it's always ourselves we find in the sea - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15406#sthash.4OE8nX6N.dpuf

10 maggie and milly and molly and may went down to the beach(to play one day) and maggie discovered a shell that sang so sweetly she couldn't remember her troubles,and milly befriended a stranded star whose rays five languid fingers were; and molly was chased by a horrible thing which raced sideways while blowing bubbles:and may came home with a smooth round stone as small as a world and as large as alone. For whatever we lose(like a you or a me) it's always ourselves we find in the sea - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15406#sthash.4OE8nX6N.dpuf

maggie and milly and molly and may

  by E. E. Cummings

              10

maggie and milly and molly and may 
went down to the beach(to play one day)

and maggie discovered a shell that sang 
so sweetly she couldn't remember her troubles,and

milly befriended a stranded star
whose rays five languid fingers were;

and molly was chased by a horrible thing 
which raced sideways while blowing bubbles:and

may came home with a smooth round stone 
as small as a world and as large as alone.

For whatever we lose(like a you or a me) 
it's always ourselves we find in the sea

- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15406#sthash.4OE8nX6N.dpuf

maggie and milly and molly and may

  by E. E. Cummings

              10

maggie and milly and molly and may 
went down to the beach(to play one day)

and maggie discovered a shell that sang 
so sweetly she couldn't remember her troubles,and

milly befriended a stranded star
whose rays five languid fingers were;

and molly was chased by a horrible thing 
which raced sideways while blowing bubbles:and

may came home with a smooth round stone 
as small as a world and as large as alone.

For whatever we lose(like a you or a me) 
it's always ourselves we find in the sea

- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15406#sthash.4OE8nX6N.dpuf

maggie and milly and molly and may

  by E. E. Cummings

              10

maggie and milly and molly and may 
went down to the beach(to play one day)

and maggie discovered a shell that sang 
so sweetly she couldn't remember her troubles,and

milly befriended a stranded star
whose rays five languid fingers were;

and molly was chased by a horrible thing 
which raced sideways while blowing bubbles:and

may came home with a smooth round stone 
as small as a world and as large as alone.

For whatever we lose(like a you or a me) 
it's always ourselves we find in the sea

- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15406#sthash.4OE8nX6N.dpuf

maggie and milly and molly and may

  by E. E. Cummings

              10

maggie and milly and molly and may 
went down to the beach(to play one day)

and maggie discovered a shell that sang 
so sweetly she couldn't remember her troubles,and

milly befriended a stranded star
whose rays five languid fingers were;

and molly was chased by a horrible thing 
which raced sideways while blowing bubbles:and

may came home with a smooth round stone 
as small as a world and as large as alone.

For whatever we lose(like a you or a me) 
it's always ourselves we find in the sea

- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15406#sthash.4OE8nX6N.dpuf

Chickens in Life and Death

The Full Mating Moon

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Do you have any idea how amazing chickens are? They are chatty and cute, constantly moving, interested in the world and did I mention cute? This spring my students and I were able to experience the amazingness of chickens first hand in our classroom. Birth, life, growth and even death happened right here in middle school. May 14 was the full Mating Moon, a time of growth and birth, of coming together of opposites into new vibrant wholes. And a time of chickens.

It all started when one of my wacky science teacher coworkers (all science teachers are weird, you know that, right?) mentioned that he was incubating eggs in his classroom. He graciously offered to let me use his incubator, provide me with fertile eggs from his flock and take the chicks back when we were done. Heck yes! In the middle of April I did a lesson on eggs and chicken incubation for my kids and then we got everything set up and eggs incubating. It takes 21 days for chicken eggs to hatch and my students and I were on the edge of our seats counting down the days.

I was expecting the chicks on a Tuesday but when I walked in the room on Monday morning I was greeting with a muffled peep! peep! peep! from the incubator. One had hatched hours earlier and was already fluffy, a second was wet still and a third still pecking at it's shell. The kids were over the moon - we got no work done that day. One student, who lived across the street from the school, stayed all afternoon and got to actually watch the third chick break open its shell and tumble out onto the mesh floor of the incubator. It was amazing to see them fluff up, learn to walk, learn to eat and, as all babies do, develop their individual personalities so quickly.

For a whole week we were chicken obsessed. Every day the kids asked questions, brought in information, watched the babies grow. We talked about the various strategies for making babies and how a chicken lays an egg every day hoping some will make it to adulthood while humans put tons of energy into just a few children. The kids named them, though I never endorsed any official names, and came to watch them eat and peep at each other in their free time. After a few days I started letting kids hold the chicks and we applauded every time anyone got pooped on. Turns out, chickens poop a lot. The babies grew, the kids were enamored and I couldn't stop talking about them.

But all was not happiness and roses. One of our chicks, the middle one who was sickly from the first day, did not grow like the others. He was visibly ill and by the middle of the second week he was getting worse. He'd stopped eating and his sick bowels had turned to open sores. During chicken news on Tuesday I let every class know that the sickly chick was quite sick, and not likely to make it through the night. We had good conversations that day - can we take it to the vet? How do you know it's sick? What if it gets better? And everyone got to say a bit of a goodbye.

That afternoon I googled "how to euthanize a small pet". Turns out, this is something people have to do regularly. Like I talked about with the kids, when we take responsibility for an animal we are always weighing costs and benefits and sometimes a vet is a big cost. Too big for a chick. One website had a method utilizing carbon dioxide from a vinegar and baking soda reaction. That seemed do-able so after the kids all left I set things up and got the sickly chick out of the tub with the others. He was starting to stagger from weakness, I'm pretty sure it hadn't eaten or drank anything in two days. The process was not as easy as the website made it seem and after what felt like too much time, memories of a recent flubbed death penalty case in Oklahoma very ripe in my mind, I broke the chick's neck with my hands.

Time had seemed to stop during the time when I was struggling with the chick. It was sick and dying. It probably would not have made it through the night if I had left it alone, but in those last moments it struggled hard to stay alive. Living things simply do not want to die. When it finally did die, in my hands, at my hand, I had the experience like coming out of a pool of water. My senses worked again beyond the tiny thing in my hand. And I was nauseous.

One of my co-workers, upon hearing the tale of the sickly chick, said something like "oh, you are just so strong! I could never have done that!"  I don't know if I really am strong, but I think I am pragmatic about life and death. I can intellectualize the process; chickens are the kinds of creatures that get born in large numbers with the expectation that many will die. If every chicken egg became an adult chicken the world would be overrun with chickens. Every creature will die eventually. But I am not as stoic as all that. I was physically ill and quite distressed over the death of this little chicken. In middle school I caught my pet rat's foot in the door of her cage and when she limped away I cried, worried I had hurt her permanently (I hadn't - she was fine) and in college I cried buckets over the death of my pet guinea pig. I might be more afraid of my dog's future death than that of some of my family members. I am not a cold intellectual in the face of death, I'm really not.

In her interview with Krista Tippet, Eve Ensler is quoted as asking "What if our lives were precious only up to a point? What if we held them loosely and understood that there were no guarantees?" She was talking about life with cancer, about seeing herself and begging to be seen as a human in the middle of a transition rather than a patient with a diagnosis. But these words have stuck with me as I struggled through the process of caring for the life of, and stewarding the death of, my baby chickens. Every creature knows its life is precious. We humans have a particular kind of self knowledge and fight like mad to maintain our lives and our integrity but all animals, and probably many other organisms, know they are alive and work hard to stay that way.  Death was probably a welcome respite for my chick. The kids commented the next day on how quiet the remaining chicks were, suspecting that they were sad. I think it was just that the sick one had been distress calling for six or seven days non stop. It had been in pain and still fought against death with every ounce of its being. In the grand scheme of things, though, that little chick was really just a way to turn plant and bug energy into meat energy for the purpose of making more baby chickens and feeding baby foxes. 

The core of my pagan theology is the dance between opposing forces; light and dark, summer and winter, life and death. This is explicitly the theme of this month's Mating Moon - how do opposites move together to create the fertility of the Earth and human culture. In my work with the chickens this spring I was reminded of this other set of opposing elements - the individual and the community. Individual organisms are not the unit of natural selection or the unit of ecological stability. As far as evolution and the energy flow on Earth are concerned, my individual self is inconsequential. My genes and my population are important so as long as my close relatives survive, I am expendable (and as long as I survive, they are expendable). But the individual is the unit of awareness and of social change. Art and science, though collaborative human enterprises, occur because of individuals. We make changes in our human cultures by individual actions that then spread. The chick's life was inconsequential, but also the most important thing imaginable to it. Mine, too.

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Full Mating Moon 2013: National Poetry Month 2013

Full Mating Moon 2012: Happy Hours and Pirate Queens

Full Mating Moon 2011: The Green Month

Full Mating Moon 2010: Mercurial

Full Mating Moon 2009: The Flower Moon

Evolution Sunday

New Seed Moon 

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I was asked to give the message at my Quaker church for Evolution Sunday 2014. This is usually celebrated the second weekend in February in honor of Charles Darwin's birthday but a rare Portland snowpocalypse postponed it until the first weekend in March. Here is what I wrote. What I said was slightly different, but for details and impressions from the gathered crowd you'll have to ask someone who was there. Enjoy!

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It is interesting to contemplate an entangled bank, clothed with many plants of many kinds, with birds singing on the bushes, with various insects flitting about, and with worms crawling through the damp earth, and to reflect that these elaborately constructed forms, so different from each other, and dependent on each other in so complex a manner, have all been produced by laws acting around us..... There is grandeur in this view of life, with its several powers, having been originally breathed into a few forms or into one; and that, whilst this planet has gone cycling on according to the fixed law of gravity, from so simple a beginning endless forms most beautiful and most wonderful have been, and are being, evolved.

Charles Darwin's The Origin of Species, Chapter 14, Concluding Remarks

Today is evolution Sunday, a day when we reaffirm that science and religion or spirituality are not enemies but both ways that we humans find meaning in a world that all too often seems meaningless. I have always been a nature girl. My mom took me and my friends out on nature hikes all around the San Franscisco bay area from the time I was very little and there was always a sense of awe and wonder in those natural places. From climbing on redwood logs as tall as a house to catching newts and bugs in creeks and playing in the ocean, I was always most happy outside. As a teenager I spent hours wandering by myself through the forested parks in this neighborhood and my sense of wonder grew as my awareness and understanding grew. My studies of natural history and science in high school and college led to some of my first explicitly spiritual experiences - laying on a log overwhelmed with awe at xylem and phloem one year, stunned at the intricacies of the body systems of the starlings flying above me another year, grinning with joy and awe at the migrating vultures overhead another year. I watched the moon and saw the face of god there. I climbed mountains and swam in rivers and studied the workings of the earth and her inhabitants and I was in awe.

Like so many students of science before me I found wonder and awe in the theories that scientists have used to explain and understand the world, too. Mathematicians and physicists often describe equations as beautiful and I don't quite get that, but I do see stunning beauty in Darwin's Theory of Evolution by Natural Selection. It is beautiful because it is simple, but out of that simplicity comes immense variation and flexibility. It is beautiful because it is based on observed evidence and it is beautiful because it allows me to make some sense out of an otherwise rather senseless world. 

The theory of evolution by natural selection says that over time populations of organisms change because some of the organisms have heritable traits allow them to survive more easily and thus have more offspring. A classic example of this is the story of the peppered moth, a standard sort of moth found in England. The typical variety seen before the Industrial revolution was a pretty white grey with some darker specks, allowing the moth to blend in perfectly with the white grey and speckled tree bark and lichen found in its forest home. As coal burning became more prevalent during the Industrial revolution the trees in England became stained with soot, making the pretty white grey with speckles colored moths easy targets for the birds who wanted to eat them. Luckily for the moth population, some small number of moths were born with darker wings and they blended in well with these new, darker trees. In recent decades, with stricter air quality standards and cleaner trees, the lighter speckly variety is again more common. Other classic examples of populations that change because some traits are more adaptive that we all know and love are things as mundane as dog breeds and as important as antibiotic resistant bacteria.

Evolution by Natural Selection is beautiful because it is simple, but out of that simplicity comes immense variation and flexibility. It shows a biological universe where just a few simple rules, carried out with novelty, creativity and fecundity, lead to stable ecosystems where every creature's needs are met. The rules of natural selection really basic: gather enough food and evade becoming food long enough to create the next generation. The ways creatures fulfill these rules are staggeringly varied and the results it allows for are mind boggling. Dandilions grow in any patch of soil and quickly flower, sending out millions of seeds on fluffy parachutes into the world in the hopes that just one or two will survive. Coast redwood trees, however, don't even begin to produce seeds until they are 10 or 15 years old and only about 15 percent of those seeds are viable. Cheetahs and antelope have honed each other into lean running machines though countless generations of "arms race" competition. Slightly less fast antelopes get eaten by slightly more fast cheetahs while slightly less fast cheetahs are outrun by the slightly more fast antelope. Each generation slightly faster than the last until we find in the plains of Africa today these amazing creatures. Sometimes the sheer number of types and individual living things overwhelms me. We get blase about it but our entire planet is covered in living things. Grass and weeds, ants and bugs, sea gulls and pigeons. There is so much variety of life. All I can do some days is gawk in awe.

Evolution by Natural Selection is beautiful because it is based on observed evidence and it is beautiful because it allows me to make some sense out of an otherwise rather senseless world. Charles Darwin spent twenty years studying and compiling evidence for his theory and scientists have spent 150 years continuing that work. Darwin himself saw evidence for evolution by natural selection in the distribution of species such as his famous finches in the Galapagos islands, in fossils and in the comparative anatomy he studied for most of his adult life. The story told in every biology text book of the bones in the forelimb of mammals is classic for a reason - my human hand has the same bones as the flipper of a whale, the wing of a bat and the paw of a cat. Common descent with modification explains that fact in a simple, logical, sense making way. North American paleontologists have discovered a well preserved series of fossils showing the change over time of a little forest dwelling leaf eater with four toes into a large, grassland dwelling single hoofed and long necked horse many of love today. Not all lines show such well preserved evidence, but exciting discoveries in fossil whales and feathered dinosaurs support the theory with evidence. Darwin knew nothing about genetics but we know lots about the biochemical mechanisms of inheritance today, and all of it shows that vastly different kinds of living things are related to each other. People talk about "believing" in evolution but that seems to me completely besides the point. It's not a matter of faith to me, it is simply the best explanation for the evidence observed. Every new way we question nature with scientific methods we see patterns of common descent and patterns of change in populations over time due to environmental pressures. I have to believe that scientists know what they are talking about, but scientific thinking provides evidence for conclusions. The overwhelming variety of life on earth makes sense when we understand evolution. There is a pattern, there is order in this chaotic complexity. And that is beautiful.

The theory of evolution by natural selection is beautiful because it is simple, but out of that simplicity comes immense variation and flexibility. It is beautiful because it is based on observed evidence and it is beautiful because it allows me to make some sense out of an otherwise rather senseless world. I see in our Quaker community a similar, beautiful system of variety out of simplicity and order out of chaos with evidence to support it. 

Here at West Hills I see a system of just a few rules carried out with creativity and novelty that lead to a stable system with room for all who want to be here. We don't have a long list of rules rigidly enforced to keep the good from the bad, we let the equilibrium of the system that is in touch with it's source do that heavy lifting for us. Our rules really are few: the Inward Teacher is within every person, listening for that Still Small Voice together allows us better access than seeking alone, and we must love each other and God in the same way for they are the same thing. In this very room right now we have people who have widely varying beliefs about the figure of Jesus Christ, about the best ways to live a moral life and the best way to sing Happy Birthday. But all of us together make for a forest full of variety and adaptability. 

I also see at West Hills a system of practice based in the evidence of what actually works. George Fox, in his journal, told of his first opening to understanding that the spirit of god could speak directly to his condition. He finished his report with the words "and this I knew experimentally". He had tried listening to the priests and the preachers, he had examined the paths of soldier and tradesman and none gave him the peace and understanding he sought. But listening to his inward teacher, "who enlightens, and gives grace, and faith, and power" worked, he had evidence for a fruitful path. The earliest of Quaker advice and queries such as the Balby Letter of 1656 admonish Friends to gather regularly and "speak the word of the Lord at such meetings, that it be done in faithfulness, without adding or diminishing". They reminded each other to care for those in need in their community and "all be subject one to another, and be clothed with humility". These weren't rules just to be followed because those 17th century Friends liked rules, they were advice given based on what they had experienced to work. They saw in their meetings that Friends who spoke the words of the Lord clearly and faithfully contributed to the life of their meetings. They saw that taking care of each other, walking with humility and grace and being discrete in their confrontations of straying Friends made their lives together better and made it easier to hear those words of the Lord. Quaker practice is an evidence based practice. I don't need to take it on faith that it will work, I've seen it work for four years and three centuries of Friends before me have seen it work. And that is beautiful.

The theory of evolution by natural selection is beautiful because it is simple, but out of that simplicity comes immense variation and flexibility. It is beautiful because it is based on observed evidence and it is beautiful because it allows me to make some sense out of an otherwise rather senseless world. Quaker practice is beautiful because it is simple, but out of that simplicity comes the adaptability to accept all who want to come. It is beautiful because just as George Fox before us "knew it experimentally", we see the fruits of our work, we see evidence for our best practice. And that is pretty darn beautiful.

What do you see in the human life of the mind as beautiful? What is your experience with waking up to the beauty of the natural world?

Where in Quaker practice do you see flexibility and adaptability coming out of simple rules? How has Quaker practice taught you, experimentally, to hear the still small voice?

What signs of spring are showing you the beauty of life all around us? 

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New Seed Moon 2012: The Seed Moon

New Seed Moon 2011: Johnny Appleseed (one of my all time favorite posts!)

New Seed Moon 2010: To Everything there is a Season

New Seed Moon 2009: The Seed Moon Is New 

Also, check out my other posts labeled Quaker for more I've written addressed to and about my Quaker community.

Psalm 23, Dedicated to My Mother

Full Fasting Moon

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"When have you encountered the Light through music?" 

For the first time all day I was alone. Not really alone, nurses bustled about down the hall and the whole hospital building buzzed with the hushed vibrating energy that was still new and uneasy to me. My sister had just left and I knew her leaving came with both relief and worry for her. This hospital was hard for her, but she had been my rock for hours.

For the last time in a week I was all alone. The pain hadn't become tear wrenchingly unbearable yet. The nurses faces still shined with optimism and hope. But as I was left alone, alone for the first time all day, alone for the last time for a week, I cried. I was on the edge of a chasm though I couldn't see it at the time. All I knew was I was alone, ill and scared.

I found myself searching my mind and heart for something to comfort me. A fragment of a story, a glimpse of a melody. Where had I heard it before? I don't even know. But I found what I was looking for on YouTube (G(!)d(dess) bless the internet!) and listened to it all night.

The Lord is my Shepard, I have all I need,
She makes me lie down in green meadows,
Beside the still waters, She will lead.

She restores my soul, She rights my wrongs,
She leads me in a path of good things,
And fills my heart with songs.

Even though I walk, through a dark and dreary land,
There is nothing that can shake me,
She has said She won't forsake me,
I'm in her hand.

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The song is Psalm 23rd, Dedicated to My Mother written by Bobby McFerrin and performed by the choral group Cantus. I've never been much of a Bible reader and the imagery of god as a shepherd has never resonated with me. God as a tall, thin, bearded man with a white robe and a shepherd's crook reeks of watered down bible stories for children and patriarchy. C.S. Lewis reminds us, though, that we don't have to understand how something works to know that it does, whether that thing is a good meal or redemption in Christ. I don't know how these words, words that may or may not describe how I view the Divine, came to make themselves known to me that night. I certainly do not know how they soothed my very being in that dark and dreary land of the OHSU emergency room but I do know that they did.


This was written for my Quaker Meeting's collective journal, Minding the Light. Check the link for our web presence, and check out all my other posts labeled Minding the Light here. 

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Full Fasting Moon 2012: The Sap Moon

Full Fasting Moon 2011: Of Peacocks, Pride and Park Rangers

Full Fasting Moon 2010: I didn't post a Full Fasting Moon post in 2010, but Spring is Springing is a New Fasting Moon post for that spring.

Full Fasting Moon 2009: Full Moon in the Fasting Moon

Don't Just Do Something, Sit There

New Milk Moon

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It is that darkest of dark time of the year when we review the year that just passed and begin to prepare for the one coming up. For the last three years I have done this in a more formal way and rather than making new years resolutions, I have gwished a theme for the upcoming year. As 2013 comes to a close the need for review of the old and gestation of the new is here again.

Part of a Tribe in the Spring

2013 was one hell of a year. The theme I set last January was Naming My Superpowers, Calling My Allies and it came with a wish and a hope to put my talents to good use and to build my community of allies to help with that work. I was looking for more discernment in my activities and my companions. I think I did a better job in 2013 than in previous years, but my skills of discernment clearly need more honing.

I didn't do as much blogging this year as in the past but going back through my Facebook feed allowed me to review the year in pretty good detail. Last winter and spring were amazing times of growth and exploration. I fell in love with an amazing man and we had some wonderful adventures together. Food, sex, conversations; it was mind and life expanding. My one blog post from this spring dates from this period and sums up a lot of my thinking during this time. And then my life exploded. That relationship fell apart and then I got very ill with a bacterial infection that took all the king's horses and all the king's men to put me back together again. The physical toll was great and the emotional toll was possibly greater. Emotions I didn't know I had overwhelmed me so I did what I am in the habit of doing.... more stuff. The late summer found me in another intense romantic relationship and then in an amazingly intense job. I got the middle school science teaching position I've been angling for for years and it is everything and more. This autumn has felt like a crisis time when everything is falling apart. My summer motto of 'better but not yet betterer' took on whole new levels of emotional and existential meaning. I wrote about my thinking along these lines in this post from late November. Apparently, it is 

Dolled Up Mid-Summer

difficult for my seventh grade students to be 12, but almost just as difficult for me to be thirty three.

Even with the major hiccup in the summer of being, ya know, almost dead for close to a month, I still followed my standard M.O. of going full speed ahead in 2013. I may have still had difficulty knowing what to say no to, but I had allies all along the way. My friends were amazing during my illness and recovery and I learned so much from the men I met and loved this year. Building community, or at least thinking about how to do it, was a major theme of this year. In my 2013 gwish post I used a photo with the african proverb, "if you want to go fast, go alone, if you want to go far, go together." I don't know how far I got, but I know I got there because of my friends this year.

During this time of gestating my intentions for 2014 I have employed many of my traditional gwishing techniques. I drew a tarot spread, listened for resonance with colors, images, animals and phrases. I thought about what I wanted and what I did not want from this upcoming year and finally, after weeks of thinking and listening, found my theme for the year.

2014, Don't Just Do Something, Sit There.

By Sharon Flowers

The phrase is a title of a book by Sylvia Boorstein, a Buddhist teacher I first heard through Krista Tippet's amazing interview with her. It is a joke, a play on words, a phrase that always makes me chuckle and smile wryly. You're right, you're right, I know you're right I mutter as the phrase pops into my head. In the last few years I have cultivated my doing self and have learned so much from that, but as I continued doing and did not feel any better about my life it became more frantic and obsessive. In a particularly dark moment of this last autumn I was on a date with a gentleman caller, drinking beer, talking about politics, looking forward to our adult sleepover, when my internal commentator noted, "Dang, girlfriend, you got this doing-and-not-feeling thing down to a science!" That frantic doing has metastasized into uncontrollable worry and anxiety this winter and I feel miserable much of the time. And it is all so boring. It is the same stupid patterns I've had for years but now that I see them they are achey and dull, not even succeeding at what they were designed to do.

I did draw a tarot spread this winter (and will talk more about it below) but this year my theme came a lot from listening for resonance with words and images. The blue heron, a patient and stealthy hunter, will be my theme animal for this 

By David Jakes

year. Herons sit still as a tree waiting for their prey to forget they're there. They work hard to not spook off the good stuff that will surely come their way. Like herons, chicory flowers have been making themselves known to me for years. They are the weediest of the weedy plants and will grow out of sidwalks, along highways, in gravel drives and on the edges of lawns. It is used for salad greens, livestock forage, a coffee subsitute and a medicine for all sorts of ailments. The gorgeous blue flowers are said to be able to open locked doors. Powerful allies to have in this year of bravely facing the habits of mind and heart that rear their head in physical and mental stillness.

Other symbols of stillness and introspection have come to work with me. The first was an unlikely and ancient copper Buddha found in Helgo, a Viking town dating to about 800 C.E. The small, beautifully worked statue appears to have been made about two to three hundred years earlier in northern India and then worked its way through trade and capture this important center of Viking trade. 1500 years after it was made and thousands of miles away, the Buddha continues to be a visual representation of the ability of humans to achieve some kind of peace. This Buddha is a conundrum,

The Helgo Buddha

 though, because this statue has traveled so far away from where it started. Like the heron who can spread its 7 foot wing span to find a better pond or stream and the weedy chicory that has hitched rides with humans to all ends of the earth, the Helgo Buddha has traveled but not lost it's stillness. My tarot card for the year is the Hermit, another character travels with stillness. This Hermit card came at the end of a spread full of winged hearts, this is the cups suit in my Fairy Tale Tarot deck. This suit is correlated with emotions, dreams and the moon and the winged heart itself is a Sufi symbol for unconditional love and devotion. My spread indicated that work must be done finding or giving support and unity in this realm before connection and healing can happen. Then those powers of love can be used to help others, fight for what is right and increase the true wealth of love in this world.

• 2014 will be green like old copper and healthy trees, grey like heron feathers, carved stones and a hermit-wizard's cloak, blue like summer skies and weedy chicory flowers. 
• 2014 will be a year of answering the phone with "What fresh hell is this?" and hoping it really is a new problem rather than the reheated boring problems I have seen before.
• 2014 will be a year of knowing what to keep and what to let go. It will be a year of cultivating Right Memory (seeing the patterns but facing the world fresh), of Right Heart (Finding new ways of love while releasing obsessive and painful habits) and Right Attention (now that I don't have to be perfect, I can be good). 
• 2014 will be a year of attending to my people, building patterns of connection and of swirling round and round with others who want to dance. It will be a time of building the world I want; don't just sit there, do something.

This last gwish is based on my Sabian symbol for 2014, Gemini 22: Dancing Couples Crowd the Barn in a Harvest Festival. The first part of my theme for this year is all about finding peace and joy in stillness, introspection and changing my own patterns of thought and feeling about the world. This symbol and gwish provide the other side of this coin, that of cultivating peace and joy through healthy connection with other people. My best friends and I are working out plans for a game night of sorts, an attempt to build our friend community back up into fruitful health, a project streaming directly out of my work at calling my allies last year. The allies have been called, now they need to connect with each other into a true caring community. This symbol brings to mind ceremonial times out of the daily grind of work to connect, enjoy and celebrate the turning of the seasons. In addition to our game night, I think this image is calling me to 

New Years Day 2014

find ways to connect in my church and school communities as well as rekindle my connection to the wheel of the year through blogging and celebrations. 

Many of my friends found 2013 to be an exceptionally challenging year. Some have much more painful horror stories from this year than I do but my year was hard. I was sick, I was heartbroken and I struggled a lot with uncovering truths about who I am and how I operate. I did have moments of pure bliss, wild adventures and times of deep connection. 2014 will be a year of more discernment, more stillness, more interesting problems and more dancing joyfully in the stream of the cosmos. I for one am looking forward to it. 

* Full text of Gemini 22: DANCING COUPLES CROWD THE BARN IN A HARVEST FESTIVAL

When achievements have been made and there is a sense of security and 'Harvest' in the air, it is time to celebrate with one another. There is a need to get back to a simple, conservative level of enjoyment. There's a sense of being in tune with seasonal rhythms. The feeling of a healthy heart and a healthy mind, while taking a break from the struggles of providing, can bring joy to everyone involved. See if you can take time out to celebrate and to enjoy your environment.

Celebrating the warmth and providence of the Earth. The joy of nature's harvest. Joining with others to celebrate. The reality of rhythmical or seasonal adjustments. Dancing. Barns and dance halls.

The Caution: Being the wallflower, not participating. Waiting for a special invitation rather than responding to the openness of the situation.

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New Milk Moon 2009: New Milk Moon

New Milk Moon 2010: Forty Two with a Seventy Percent Chance of Rain

New Milk Moon 2011: The Quaker Year

New Milk Moon 2012: Year of the Dragon

This post is a New Year's Gwishing post. Be sure to check out previous year's posts: 2011 Building a Better Teacher, 2012 Grabbing the Tiger By the Tail and 2013 Engaging My Superpowers, Calling My Allies. There are older and other New Years day posts under the label New Year.