Upon entering:
"The sun rises at 7:05am
and sets at 6:51pm which means
day light lasts for seven hundred and six minutes, chaplain."
This daylight shines through semi-pulled curtains
on the north side where tough guys
convene to chat over the constantly streaming
noise of the television positioned on the west side.
Between Animal Planet, CNN and/or Judge Judy
they pass sorrows, sex jokes and subtle surrenders
over to one another as if in a summer league
football scrimmage where sophomore JV quarterbacks
get to launch their finest with coaches
but no crowd in attendance.
Sometimes they don't wait for the corporate sponsor
to initiate their pouring forth. Other days an entire
show will pass by without war stories or shit-talking
sessions about the highest scores
in last weekend's Yahtzee tournament.
Regardless, the high paced static stakes a constant claim
on any lingering silence that might further suffuse a
grief too swollen and ready to rupture.
Would they talk without the TV? Or is the diversion,
the possible escape of attention the enabler of
potent, tender and visible intimacy?
Today there are 734 minutes left without daylight.
Thank you and goodnight men.
Thank you and goodnight world.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Bringing Whitehead to the Feds
"...the 'production of novel togetherness' is the ultimate notion embodied in the term 'concresence.'" (A. N. Whitehead, Process and Reality, 21)
Queers in organic communes, heirloom tomatoes and basil on Sundays.
Jazz and justice, far reaching prayer, annointing oil and Bea dancing on Sundays.
James' body softly searching and sanctifying on Sundays.
Silence on Sundays.
Space on Sundays.
Tour of duty begins 8:00am on Mondays.
Full length garb, no jeans, name tag, pager and sign-in on Mondays.
Immune Clinic, arrogant M.D.s, so-close-to-suicide souls on Mondays.
Freedom in the routine that begins on Mondays.
Structure and sacred service on Mondays.
Two worlds: Sundays and Mondays.
Fancy a dark roast brew of coffe,
black like the regur soils of India,
filling gaps between ice cubes large and evenly dispersed
in a glass mug where all-things-alchemy come visible and plain.
Consider the first five seconds before homogeneity,
when the recently poured half-n-half bravely and distinctly
searches, swirls and summersaults into pre-existing tehom.
Consider the first five seconds before homogeneity.
Concresence is like that.
Queers in organic communes, heirloom tomatoes and basil on Sundays.
Jazz and justice, far reaching prayer, annointing oil and Bea dancing on Sundays.
James' body softly searching and sanctifying on Sundays.
Silence on Sundays.
Space on Sundays.
Tour of duty begins 8:00am on Mondays.
Full length garb, no jeans, name tag, pager and sign-in on Mondays.
Immune Clinic, arrogant M.D.s, so-close-to-suicide souls on Mondays.
Freedom in the routine that begins on Mondays.
Structure and sacred service on Mondays.
Two worlds: Sundays and Mondays.
Fancy a dark roast brew of coffe,
black like the regur soils of India,
filling gaps between ice cubes large and evenly dispersed
in a glass mug where all-things-alchemy come visible and plain.
Consider the first five seconds before homogeneity,
when the recently poured half-n-half bravely and distinctly
searches, swirls and summersaults into pre-existing tehom.
Consider the first five seconds before homogeneity.
Concresence is like that.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Clergy for Obama
Yo my peeps. I wrote this for the "Clergy for Obama" site. It's a tad bit over-the-top Christian for my personal liking, but hey: desperate times call for desperate measures. Tell me your thoughts!!!
It's hard these days not to talk about Barack Obama as a messianic figure. It's hard not to cast this election season as an apocalypse of sorts. It's hard not to paint political parties as righteous and evil. It's hard to keep politics and religion in their respective corners. The last 8 years have brought mass deception, war, flooded cities, a devastated economy, renewed racism, alienation from once-upon-a-time allies, etc etc etc. The list is too long to recount. Our Bible, the hebrew scriptures and second testament, document times just like these. One looks into the prophecies of old, Isaiah and Ezekiel in particular, finding contemporary parallels to the "valley of dry bones" and the promised "new thing."
We want the death and destruction to end. We want true repentance in this land: a turning around from policies of narrow-mindedness and greed to acts of restoration and promise. We want to believe in the goodness of our leaders, our communities, our nation. So we survey the options, and for some of us, it's abundantly clear which presidential candidate evokes dry bones imagery and which one represents the remnant of life breaking through deadwood. We have seen hard times. It's easy to think Barack Obama is the answer.
But Barack Obama is not G*d. He does not have the power of G*d, the goodness of G*d, the foresight and insight of G*d or the ever-living, ever-loving heart of G*d. As a clergy person, it is always my responsibility to keep Ultimate Reality in mind. I must admit: Barack Obama isn't it. He is not our savior. If he gets elected and does the best of work yet to be done in the US Oval Office, he will remain just a man and he will return to dust. The hopes and struggles of this universe did not begin with Barack Obama, they do not exist for Barack Obama, and they will surely outlive his precious, yet numbered days. It's hard to keep Barack Obama's humanness in mind when he is speaking. With a preacher's presence, a lawyer's grit, a community organizer's enthusiasm--he sounds like angels singing compared to the cacophonous cords of Bush's Washington. But let us not be fooled: the gifts of G*d for the people of G*d always come from more than one direction, usually spring up in places where no one is looking, and generally come from ordinary commoners, not Harvard graduates with political charisma.
And that is exactly why I am voting for Barack Obama. Because he gets that. He gets that it's not about him. When asked by Oprah Winfrey "Are you the one we've been waiting for?" Barack responded by saying "I'm one of the ones we've been waiting for." He gets that if change happens it's because everyone gets on board. His campaigning style embodies inclusivity: he wants each one to give as much as they can. Green people sign up. Constitutional loyalists get on board. Artists are involved. Musicians are involved. Activists are involved. Young people abound. Techno types blog and share articles on Facebook. Black, brown, white, poor, rich, queer, Muslim, Catholic, atheist--they get together to make phone calls, to sign up voters, to host campaign parties. People care about what's happening. It is an exciting movement to behold!
A good society is an involved society. A good society is a motivated society. A good society sweats, mourns and celebrates together. Obama's leadership encourages such involvement, motivation and togetherness. That is why this clergy woman will vote Obama & Biden in November. Not because Obama will save us, but because he knows The People can.
It's hard these days not to talk about Barack Obama as a messianic figure. It's hard not to cast this election season as an apocalypse of sorts. It's hard not to paint political parties as righteous and evil. It's hard to keep politics and religion in their respective corners. The last 8 years have brought mass deception, war, flooded cities, a devastated economy, renewed racism, alienation from once-upon-a-time allies, etc etc etc. The list is too long to recount. Our Bible, the hebrew scriptures and second testament, document times just like these. One looks into the prophecies of old, Isaiah and Ezekiel in particular, finding contemporary parallels to the "valley of dry bones" and the promised "new thing."
We want the death and destruction to end. We want true repentance in this land: a turning around from policies of narrow-mindedness and greed to acts of restoration and promise. We want to believe in the goodness of our leaders, our communities, our nation. So we survey the options, and for some of us, it's abundantly clear which presidential candidate evokes dry bones imagery and which one represents the remnant of life breaking through deadwood. We have seen hard times. It's easy to think Barack Obama is the answer.
But Barack Obama is not G*d. He does not have the power of G*d, the goodness of G*d, the foresight and insight of G*d or the ever-living, ever-loving heart of G*d. As a clergy person, it is always my responsibility to keep Ultimate Reality in mind. I must admit: Barack Obama isn't it. He is not our savior. If he gets elected and does the best of work yet to be done in the US Oval Office, he will remain just a man and he will return to dust. The hopes and struggles of this universe did not begin with Barack Obama, they do not exist for Barack Obama, and they will surely outlive his precious, yet numbered days. It's hard to keep Barack Obama's humanness in mind when he is speaking. With a preacher's presence, a lawyer's grit, a community organizer's enthusiasm--he sounds like angels singing compared to the cacophonous cords of Bush's Washington. But let us not be fooled: the gifts of G*d for the people of G*d always come from more than one direction, usually spring up in places where no one is looking, and generally come from ordinary commoners, not Harvard graduates with political charisma.
And that is exactly why I am voting for Barack Obama. Because he gets that. He gets that it's not about him. When asked by Oprah Winfrey "Are you the one we've been waiting for?" Barack responded by saying "I'm one of the ones we've been waiting for." He gets that if change happens it's because everyone gets on board. His campaigning style embodies inclusivity: he wants each one to give as much as they can. Green people sign up. Constitutional loyalists get on board. Artists are involved. Musicians are involved. Activists are involved. Young people abound. Techno types blog and share articles on Facebook. Black, brown, white, poor, rich, queer, Muslim, Catholic, atheist--they get together to make phone calls, to sign up voters, to host campaign parties. People care about what's happening. It is an exciting movement to behold!
A good society is an involved society. A good society is a motivated society. A good society sweats, mourns and celebrates together. Obama's leadership encourages such involvement, motivation and togetherness. That is why this clergy woman will vote Obama & Biden in November. Not because Obama will save us, but because he knows The People can.
In the Air
Come Fall.
Come now.
Shed your leaves, lengthen our nights.
Bring us wonder-filled winds, red votives,
novels of nostalgia and harvest wreaths.
Make us remember the beauty of death,
how the chorus of colors illuminating change
promise deep breaths, tomorrows renewal,
a holy shedding of cosmic skin.
Tell us your secrets Fall
and tell them loud,
with inaugurating rain drops that saturate
dry ground, puffy clouds on pink sky-lines
that rest gently on ocean's blue lap.
Let our listening be long, our prayers
smoky and silent.
Help us get it.
Spinning leaves, browns, yellows, greens and orange,
dance in dim lights, effortlessly, entirely,
whispering only when they touch down,
generously surrendering one after the other, creating a
patchwork quilt-like pavement--different on each lawn,
each block, each neighborhood, each town.
Help us get it:
there are processes of letting go, so beautiful, so rhythmic,
so right that no picture or text message can capture them.
Come now.
Shed your leaves, lengthen our nights.
Bring us wonder-filled winds, red votives,
novels of nostalgia and harvest wreaths.
Make us remember the beauty of death,
how the chorus of colors illuminating change
promise deep breaths, tomorrows renewal,
a holy shedding of cosmic skin.
Tell us your secrets Fall
and tell them loud,
with inaugurating rain drops that saturate
dry ground, puffy clouds on pink sky-lines
that rest gently on ocean's blue lap.
Let our listening be long, our prayers
smoky and silent.
Help us get it.
Spinning leaves, browns, yellows, greens and orange,
dance in dim lights, effortlessly, entirely,
whispering only when they touch down,
generously surrendering one after the other, creating a
patchwork quilt-like pavement--different on each lawn,
each block, each neighborhood, each town.
Help us get it:
there are processes of letting go, so beautiful, so rhythmic,
so right that no picture or text message can capture them.
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
10 on Day 2
So I started CPE yesterday. And tonight I say good-bye to SafeHouse. I'm excited, anxious, sad, nostalgic and grateful--all at the same time.
Several updates...
1) I totally love working in a hospital setting. Talk about The Swarm...
2) Though I've facilitated group for the last 3 years, I'm surprisingly nervous about the InterPersonal Relations group process in CPE. Seems like a lot of narcissistic shit. Wasn't there enough of that in seminary? There's my assumption and resistance. I'm sure i'll get nailed on it. We'll see..
3) Having Wade to check-in with helps a lot. (He did CPE at the VA in Palo Alto last year) Glory to G*d for friendship and the way it "goes before you."
4) Apophatic theology appeals more and more each day.
5) Rigorous objectives and expectations make Emily Joye a happy camper.
6) I'm pretty sure trauma will be the most pressing "issue/reality" facing ministry in the 21st century. Best to get prepared, ey?
7) Berkeley is a bubble. Palo Alto is a grid.
8) Transitioning "out" is harder than starting fresh--for me anyway. I've been trying to put words and ritual to my grief around leaving SafeHouse, but I just end up staring at the wall.
9) I don't have a coffee-maker yet. Dying in the mornings. Seriously.
10) Faces, words and the presence of people far and near stay with me throughout the day, shaping the way I perceive, respond to and integrate what's happening. here i begin to understand The Body that sprouts and spirals in, outside, and across space and time, while enhancing the materiality of living. What a beautiful Body it is! I love you all.
Several updates...
1) I totally love working in a hospital setting. Talk about The Swarm...
2) Though I've facilitated group for the last 3 years, I'm surprisingly nervous about the InterPersonal Relations group process in CPE. Seems like a lot of narcissistic shit. Wasn't there enough of that in seminary? There's my assumption and resistance. I'm sure i'll get nailed on it. We'll see..
3) Having Wade to check-in with helps a lot. (He did CPE at the VA in Palo Alto last year) Glory to G*d for friendship and the way it "goes before you."
4) Apophatic theology appeals more and more each day.
5) Rigorous objectives and expectations make Emily Joye a happy camper.
6) I'm pretty sure trauma will be the most pressing "issue/reality" facing ministry in the 21st century. Best to get prepared, ey?
7) Berkeley is a bubble. Palo Alto is a grid.
8) Transitioning "out" is harder than starting fresh--for me anyway. I've been trying to put words and ritual to my grief around leaving SafeHouse, but I just end up staring at the wall.
9) I don't have a coffee-maker yet. Dying in the mornings. Seriously.
10) Faces, words and the presence of people far and near stay with me throughout the day, shaping the way I perceive, respond to and integrate what's happening. here i begin to understand The Body that sprouts and spirals in, outside, and across space and time, while enhancing the materiality of living. What a beautiful Body it is! I love you all.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
...in the end and in the beginning and in the moment it is about love. --9/2/08
I looked
into old wise eyes today
wanting to say
"you've been like a father to me"
but didn't because some things
are too meaningful to say out loud,
especially when you know
they know
without words.
into old wise eyes today
wanting to say
"you've been like a father to me"
but didn't because some things
are too meaningful to say out loud,
especially when you know
they know
without words.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Lunacy
Seven times today
an infamous alert: the cell phone
in your pocket
(hopefully not demagnetizing
your BART card) needs charging.
In "It is the Rising I Love" poet
Linda Gregg documents quaintly how
"rising" and "falling" in struggle
"desire" and "suffering" in life
make what?
Her book is called "All of it Singing."
Not everyone sings.
Sarah Palin looks like Maureen Dowd
who hates Sarah Palin. A pink cheek
veteran standing next to his wide-eyed wife
takes delight in telling MSNBC "she gave the most
macho speech of this entire convention."
In deed.
Pampered white chicks go
to "third world countries"
on Music TeleVision
(it's a show called "Exile")
where they learn to
appreciate how they live at home.
Agh: the price of educating society
and making daddy proud.
Some/bodies gotta do it.
A lanky nerd walks by, swaggering
almost as if to proclaim: I made it through
high school alive. Believable if he
hadn't been wearing a shirt that said:
"Shakespeare hates your emo poems." Berkeley.
High winds and terrible tides revisit
the place they demolished three years ago.
And like Nargis in Burma, the timing of it
beckons you to abandon theism. As well you
should. Even in New Orleans: not everyone
sings.
The cell phone
in your pocket
has not only demagnetized your BART card.
an infamous alert: the cell phone
in your pocket
(hopefully not demagnetizing
your BART card) needs charging.
In "It is the Rising I Love" poet
Linda Gregg documents quaintly how
"rising" and "falling" in struggle
"desire" and "suffering" in life
make what?
Her book is called "All of it Singing."
Not everyone sings.
Sarah Palin looks like Maureen Dowd
who hates Sarah Palin. A pink cheek
veteran standing next to his wide-eyed wife
takes delight in telling MSNBC "she gave the most
macho speech of this entire convention."
In deed.
Pampered white chicks go
to "third world countries"
on Music TeleVision
(it's a show called "Exile")
where they learn to
appreciate how they live at home.
Agh: the price of educating society
and making daddy proud.
Some/bodies gotta do it.
A lanky nerd walks by, swaggering
almost as if to proclaim: I made it through
high school alive. Believable if he
hadn't been wearing a shirt that said:
"Shakespeare hates your emo poems." Berkeley.
High winds and terrible tides revisit
the place they demolished three years ago.
And like Nargis in Burma, the timing of it
beckons you to abandon theism. As well you
should. Even in New Orleans: not everyone
sings.
The cell phone
in your pocket
has not only demagnetized your BART card.
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