This Messy Life

Christmas 2015 has come and gone.

There's a photo-bomber in every crowd!

Trying to arrange everyone for the annual Christmas shot is a challenge.

...but finally, it happens. Quick, shoot before someone moves.

This year, we were the ones to decorate the little tree in the woods.

The Christmas visitors packed up and left yesterday morning. The last sticky kisses and lingering hugs have been exchanged, and off they go. No more “Five Fat Days of Christmas” -- non-stop feeding of 12 hungry mouths. No more noise of children playing and running through the house, computers pinging, adults discussing lofty issues. No more dishwasher running non-stop. No more coats and shoes piled up by the door, and suitcases lying open in hallways. No more mattresses on the floor and pillows on the sofa and stray socks and mittens under the coffee table. Oh bliss, the house is ours again. But I miss them already!

I miss them already, but ... The hardest thing for me when the kids come home is giving up  my office/studio, my own space, my circle of quiet where I am free to create and dream without interruption. When the family comes home, however, the work table collapses, the design wall comes down, and the Murphy wall-bed descends. My space becomes “Bedrooms R Us” for whoever needs the space.

Right now, I have a number of projects on the go. What will happen to those budding ideas that still need development? Will the ideas still be there when I pull the projects out of the closet where I tucked them a few weeks ago? In Elizabeth Gilbert’s latest book Big Magic, she suggests that ideas have a life of their own; they visit you, calling out, “Okay, here I am! I’ve chosen you to make me real and send me out into the world.” But if you tell those ideas, “Later, later, I haven’t time now,” they may just give up on you; they may skip town and lodge in someone else’s heart, one who is more receptive! That may sound  hokey, but I suspect there’s some truth to the theory. I have more than a box full of unfinished pieces that were begun with a passion and fizzled out through neglect.

It’s a conundrum: I love my family, I love it when they come home, I love the bustling and busy times, the photobombers who mess up photos, the bits of tinsel stuck to the carpet. I love the deep bond that’s strengthened when we spend time together.  But I also love my calling, to follow creative ideas, do something with them, and send them out to the world.

[Interlude: at this point I stop writing, stumped. You  shouldn’t be writing things like that, the voice in my head tells me sternly. Your calling as a mother is sacred. How can you even compare it to something like this creative urge you have to make sense out of your life and then share it with others? Surely you know what your priority is. Bad mother! Bad mother! Ah, guilt. The gift that keeps on keeping on.]


So, defeated, I go to bed. Overnight, something happens. We are in the season leading up to the Festival of Epiphany, January 6, observed as a church festival to celebrate the coming of the Magi, the first non-Jewish people to worship the Christ child. In non-church language, epiphany has come to mean a flash of insight or realization. My epiphany arrives overnight.

Messy: life is messy! It is not an either/or proposition, with clear lines around discrete packages, which you must choose between;  it’s a “all this and more” event. You say it’s a conundrum? NO! It’s blessings upon blessings! And really, at its heart, that is the message of Christmas.

Whether you believe the facts of the Biblical story or not, the kernel of truth embedded in this sacred literature, to me, tells the story of a Creator who had infinite possibilities to choose from, and what did (s)he choose? To enter our messy world and be one of us for a time, to pour out love into this world indiscriminately and recklessly and generously, inviting  us to swim in it, to drink it in, to enjoy it in all its messy ramifications, and pass it on to others.

With love comes pain. With love comes hard decisions, disappointments, anxiety, sacrifices, discomfort ... and more. But to live without it? Unthinkable. What a gift!

This insight eases my soul. It’s time to pull out my latest project and see if the ideas chose to stay and bless me, or to leave and bless someone else. That too is good.

May your life this season and all year long be blessed with messiness, beauty, ideas, hugs and sticky kisses, and all the other things that spell love. 

Post Script: When I pulled out my project and looked at it with fresh eyes, I realized some parts of it would need to change. Apparently, ideas do have a life of their own, and they, like us, need a time of quietness and rest to develop properly. Another lesson learned in this messy life!

Popping Down the Rabbit Hole

“Oh dear, oh dear, I shall be late,” says the White Rabbit in Alice in Wonderland.

Louis Caroll, author of Alice, explains what this creature is meant to portray: “...read 'elderly,' 'timid,' 'feeble,' and 'nervously shilly-shallying,' and you will get something of what I meant him to be ..." (Wikipedia quote). Weak. Quivery. Fearful.

Thanks, Louis, you’ve described me to a T these days.

In the past few weeks, we’ve all been challenged with tragedies and horrors that show the worst aspects of humanity.  Personally, that’s left me feeling wrung out – “What to do, what to think?” I worry and fuss, as I wring my hands nervously. My friends ask the same questions I’m asking: Why? How did this come to be? How do I respond? We share our anxiety, but no answers are forthcoming.  I read vitriolic facebook posts, and am afraid to say the wrong thing, so they come out more like “vaguebook.” Or perhaps I just shut those “friends” down: too much, too much, I don’t want to deal with this, I think.

I’m with you, rabbit: I think I’ll just pop down into the fantasy world of your rabbit hole and have myself a warm and soothing cup of tea and some buttered crumpets. After that I’ll take a nap, and perhaps when I wake up the world will be alright.

Yes, and the queen wears spandex yoga pants. Not likely.

Hiding is not a good thing, is it? Well, no, but also, well, yes.

As I’m reflecting on my anxieties, a Facebook friend shares a post written by Oriah Mountain Dreamer. She says that, distressed by all that’s happened, she’s done what she can – writing letters to her Member of Parliament, giving money to charitable organizations that support immigrants, looking for ways to give hands-on help if and when refugees arrive, and praying for all who are hurt, grieving, homeless, frightened and feeling paralyzed.

“But there is something else I can do,” she says. “I can recognize that after five days of reading too many opinions that make no sense to me (and arguing with them in my head) I need to give myself the silence and stillness and centering that grounds me in this moment, so I can see with clear eyes and follow the wisdom of the heart. Some of what I have read makes my heart ache and makes me fearful for our world.

Being grounded in Presence is the way I know to listen and act from a place of heart wisdom - but, when there is a lot of fear flying around it can take a little silence and stillness to make myself available to that Presence.”

Do what you can ... but don’t forget to listen. There are answers meant just for you if you will take the time to be open and hear them.

We all have our own way of listening, of popping down the rabbit hole for a while, retreating from the world as we know it so we can become grounded in the presence of the Divine.  Some  might take a silent retreat in a monastery, while others serve soup in the soup kitchen, offering deep love with each ladle of broth, looking into each face and seeing Christ there. Long walks, journaling, sitting in silence, prayer, enlightening ourselves through books and study –  a host of spiritual disciplines can help us listen.  The resident sweetie has been cleaning up his mason bee hives and finds that the cleaning and sorting of 2,000 cocoons is a meditative activity that frees his mind from anxieties and worries. Who knew that sorting bees could be a spiritual discipline?

My way, I find, is to create beauty as I “work, listening.” I am in my studio this weekend, as much as possible, to do that: write and create art. From experience I know that has been the best way to be open and listening, to eventually see my way clear to a new direction.

"I read in a book that a man called Christ went about doing good. It distresses me that I am so easily satisfied with just going about," writes author Toyohiko Kagawa.

Yes, me too – but I also know that before I go about doing good, I will have to quiet down. And listen.  And fill this world with beauty.

The Crow Reflects

So it’s over. The election hype that filled our newspapers, Facebook posts, and conversations – it’s all over but the shouting, as the cliche goes.  There may still be a lot of noise, but we know without doubt who won and who lost.

The Crow felt a wave of relief. She could back to tucking her head under her wing and keeping quiet.

And yes, there’s been noise. The newspapers are dissecting what happened, and my Facebook page features commentary, analysis, blog posts, and cartoons. Even some complaints and rants. When we get together with friends, the talk is still mostly about the election.

“I guess I’ll have to learn to talk Liberal,” said a friend a little morosely (his party lost).

The Crow raised her head. Hmmm. That doesn’t sound right, she thought. So here’s one last post about the election (Maybe!)

Really, politics is not all about left vs. right, liberal vs. conservative, East coast vs. west coast,  pro-this vs. anti-that, or any of the differences of conviction that guide us when we make choices.

Quote attributed to Butler Schaffer.

Politics is about the things that are important to all of us in life: freedom of expression and belief, justice, work, family, health, money, about how to create a community and a society where people are able to live and work together for the common good.

The thing is, though, we all have different opinions about what’s most important in that list, and how to go about achieving it. That’s when we begin shouting at each other, thinking we can convince the other of our rightness. That ain’t gonna happen! Research has shown many times that trying to convince someone to change their deeply held convictions is more likely to deepen the convictions then to effect a conversion.

Do we really believe that it will ever be possible to speak in one voice? To be unified and move forward under the banner of Total and Utter Agreement? That ain’t gonna happen! Even when all people passionately share a goal – for instance, declaring independence as the USA did in 1776 – they often have different ideas of what that goal means. So of the 55 delegates who gathered in 1787 to create the Constitution by which their land would be governed, only 39 signed it. Almost 30% were so strongly opposed they couldn’t go along with those who did sign.

There will always be tension. There will always be differing opinions and convictions. In a country that takes such pride in its cultural mosaic, there are many “others” and “thems” – those people who are different from us. That makes for an uncomfortable life. Wouldn’t it be nicer if we all shared the same political and cultural beliefs? Wouldn’t our neighbourhoods, our schools, our churches and other institutions be safer if we all thought the same? But common sense tells me that ain’t gonna happen, either.

Nor would it be good. We need each other. Each voice has something to offer, and if we listen hard enough, we will appreciate the gifts we all bring to the table. We are like a sweater that is knit together, each stitch looped into the one ahead of it and behind it, embedded in the row above and the row below. To drop stitches makes the sweater unwearable. It will unravel in the end.*

What has the crow learned from all this? Less squawking, more listening. Less division, more community. What we have in common is bigger and more important than the things that set us apart. Democracy depends on all of us.

It's like 13th Century poet Hafiz wrote:

Out

Of a great need

We are all holding hands 

And climbing,

Not loving is a letting go.

Listen,

The terrain around here

Is

Far to dangerous 

For 

That.

(from The Gift: Poems of Hafiz, translated by Daniel Ladinsky.) 
 
Let’s figure out how to live respectfully and work with each other. If Trudeau and Harper can do it, so can we.

*The image of the sweater is from the play Grace and Glorie by Tom Ziegler. Thanks to friends who shared the story with me. What would we do without our friends for inspiration and insights?

The Crow Votes Yes

The crow started these two weeks of posts when she became enveloped in the cloud of negativity generated by the election.

You’ve seen and heard as much as I have: this person is a liar, that one doesn’t tell the truth, and you can’t believe what so-and-so says.  Like Chicken Little, many people are running around in a panic, sure the world will come to an end if their chosen candidate doesn’t get elected.

Sadly, spiritual people are not immune from the Chicken Little syndrome. More than a large share of the posts I’ve received on Facebook come from people who would normally be sending me Scripture verses that tell me that God has a plan for us so we can live in trust.

Living in a web of tension and anxiety is tiring and discouraging. When that happens,  you have a choice: choose to live in that  dark fog, or create some light. The inner crow banged on the bars of her cage and squawked loudly and insistently: “Let me out! I have something to say.” So I opened the door. The Crow’s posts were my small attempt to elevate the level of discussion beyond propaganda and partisanship.

By the time you read this, the politicians will be down to their last desperate grab for the undecided voter. Another day, and all the shouting and posturing will be over (and we’ll find new things to complain about.)

And then what? Business as usual?

If there is one thing I’ve learned from this experience, it is that we cannot leave politics only to the politicians. The word “politics” derives from the Greek word for citizen, and all of us are that. As Parker Palmer says, “Politics is the ancient and honorable effort to come together across our differences and create a community in which the weak as well as the strong flourish, love and power collaborate, and justice and mercy have their day.”

The day after the election, the business of politics will still be responsible for welcoming immigrants to this country; it will ensure that the weakest of our citizens is cared for; it will enforce laws that protect the community, guard the freedom to practice our faith, enact laws to protect our environment, regulate the finances of the land, safeguard freedom of expression. And that’s only the beginning of a very long list of responsibilities that affect us all. As citizens, it’s not only our privilege to vote, but also our business to engage in our communities for the good of all.

I’ve had enough of negativity and the darkness, cynicism and discouragement it creates in our communities and in our country. Instead, I timidly raise my hand; I’ll vote for Yes.

It’s just a little yes, but then, good things come in many sizes. I’m not sure what my quiet little yes will lead to – more involvement in environmental issues in our community? Helping a refugee family? Writing a letter to the editor of the paper? All of it is good...

As you may have noticed, I’m a big fan of community activist Parker Palmer. In one of his blogs, he writes about waking up cranky one morning (just like some of us will likely be waking up cranky the day after the election!) Then he reads this poem by Mary Oliver, called “Landscape.”


    Isn't it plain the sheets of moss, except that
    they have no tongues, could lecture
    all day if they wanted about

    spiritual patience? Isn't it clear
    the black oaks along the path are standing
    as though they were the most fragile of flowers?

    Every morning I walk like this around
    the pond, thinking: if the doors of my heart
    ever close, I am as good as dead.

    Every morning, so far, I'm alive. And now
    the crows break off from the rest of the darkness
    and burst up into the sky—as though

    all night they had thought of what they would like
    their lives to be, and imagined
    their strong, thick wings.

“Grace comes from surprising places,” writes Palmer. “This time it came from those crows. They reminded me that, though I was entangled in the darkness, I am not one with it — any more than the crows’ strong black wings are one with the night from which they fly. They reminded me that I, too, have wings to lift me out of the darkness toward the light I would like my life to be, wings of faith and will, imagination and skill.”

And to that, I say Yes!

The Crow Needs a Laugh

Is this the worst election campaign ever? Do you wish it were over?

The crow was looking through political cartoons, wishing there was something she could laugh about, but alas, the funny stuff seemed too close to the truth. It made her want to weep.

Then the article linked below appeared on the radar. It reminded the crow that politics -- "the ancient and honorable effort to come together across our differences and create a community in which the weak as well as the strong flourish, love and power collaborate, and justice and mercy have their day" (Parker Palmer) doesn't have to be a dirty word.

And sometimes it can even be funny, because laughter is great medicine. Hurrah!

www.theglobeandmail.com/news/politics/the-most-humourless-election-since-confederation/article26852910/

The Crow is Pensive

A big word: Justice. Lofty. Rarely mentioned in an election campaign that seems to be narrowing its focus to economics.

Justice:  The quality of being just; fairness. The principle of moral rightness; decency.

Great thinkers have written widely about the importance of justice, which is the foundation of our society. Consider this quote:

“ Remove justice, and what are kingdoms but gangs of criminals on a large scale?” (St. Augustine, City of God)

I wonder what this campaign would have been like if it had focused on justice rather than money? I wonder how our country’s character would change if candidates fought for justice with as much passion as they do for the middle class? Wouldn’t that message raise our hopes, inspire works of mercy, and help us be better than we are? And wouldn’t that filter out into the world? Just wondering today...

The final word goes to Plato: "Justice in the life and conduct of the state is only possible as first it resides in the hearts and souls of its citizens." I guess I have some work to do on myself today.

Crow Posts another Survival Tip

Globe and Mail Reporter David Parkinson starts an article this way: “There’s a saying that dates back to ancient Greece:  In war, truth is the first casualty...”

He continues with a list of political ads that tell only a very small part of the truth. Parties put out these ads hoping you will not dig too deep to find the rest of the story. However, Parkinson did dig a little deeper, and shared the “rest of the story” with his readers.

“...It would have been nice if voters weren’t forced to wade through the fear-mongering muck to compare and contrast what our leaders are proposing,” concludes Parkinson. “I guess maybe the second casualty of this war is respect for the intelligence of the electorate caught in the crossfire.”

Ironically, the headline of the article speaks of “Conservative ads that are full of half-truths” but further into the article he admits it’s not just the Conservatives that are doing this, and also lists Liberal and NDP ads filled with half-truths. The crow thinks, therefore, that the headline is misleading, not quite truthful, you might say.

Crows have managed to survive in a harsh and changing world because they are wary and alert, and help each other by cawing out when they sense that something is wrong. Let’s be like the crows.

www.theglobeandmail.com/report-on-business/economy/economic-insight/latest-conservative-ads-full-of-half-truths-about-rivals-economic-plans/article26815559/