Mindfulness During The Holiday Season

In The Miracle of Mindfulness, Thich Nhat Hanh said: “Consider the example of a table.  The table’s existence is possible due to the existence of things which we might call the “non-table world”: the forest where the wood grew and was cut, the carpenter, the iron ore which became the nails and screws, and countless other things which have relation to the table, the parents and ancestors of the carpenter, the sun and rain which made it possible for the trees to grow.

If you grasp the table’s reality then you see that in the table itself are present all those things which we normally think of as the non-table world.  If you took away any of those non-table elements and returned them to their sources -- the nails back to the iron ore, the wood to the forest, the carpenter to his parents -- the table would no longer exist.  

A person who looks at the table and can see the universe is a person who can see the way.”

In today's society filled with disconnect and suffering, how can we see the universe in everything? How do we cultivate that understanding within to see that we are interdependent beings living in an interdependent world?

The Zen Buddhist tradition of Mindfulness is one way. As I practice focusing on driving mindfully every day, being fully aware that I am driving instead of arriving at my destination with no idea as to how I got there because I was distracted by my own thoughts, I may actually see that the person who cuts me off is somehow connected to me. And that the engineers and mechanics who painstakingly designed and built my beloved car are all driving with me somehow. It's wild to think that way, but perhaps if we did we may all slow down a little and be more cautious when we drive.

Lately, the freeway signs in my neck of the woods remind drivers to "slow down to save a life." It's sad that our world has come to this. We must remind one another to slow down. But, you know, that's good advice. How can we all slow down to save our own lives and the lives of our loved ones? How can we slow down from the hustle and bustle of commerce during this holiday season? How can we be more mindful of what we are purchasing, and how each person who created that item of clothing that we wear, the electronic that we use, the toy that we play with, is with us -- somehow?

To be mindful is to be one with the whole universe. Perhaps, this may be the time to reflect on this concept more. You could meditate, pray or practice being mindful more -- being present in every moment. Or you could go back to scurrying from store to store to find that perfect gift, honking at cars that cut you off, and scowling at those who upset you -- not enjoying the gifts of the season. We all struggle with anger and anxiety at this time more than perhaps other months in the year. But what if we vowed to slow down this December?  

For me, I want to practice being more mindful this December. It is something I feel called to do -- need to do. Perhaps, in so doing, I will truly realize that we are all connected in this interdependent universe. I will see "the way" that Thich Nhat Hanh speaks about. Then when I mindfully slow down, I might save my own life. And that may just be the best gift I can give myself this holiday season.

May you find your perfect gift this December,

Rev. Summer

Death -- The Great Mystery of Life...

"On the day I die, don’t say he’s gone. Death has nothing to do with going away.

The sun sets, and the moon sets but they’re not gone.

Death is a coming together.

The human seed goes down into the ground like a bucket,

and comes up with some unimagined beauty.

Your mouth closes here, and immediately opens

with a shout of joy there."

--Rumi

Ah, death.  This is the October theme at the Unitarian Universalist Fellowship of Kern County, where I serve as Consulting Minister.  

Looking at a monthly theme is a time of wonder and awe for me, and this month I must reflect on death and what it means.  Having recently experienced the death of my father, this theme could not come at a more relevant time in my life.

Like the Rumi poem, I tend to think of death and rebirth together.  Or maybe I want to believe that something will come out of the death.  Not just pain for those left behind.  Not just the hope of a heaven in which we will all be reunited.  Not just a life in which we die and…”that’s all folks!”  Somehow, I long to know that my loved ones will come back to me reincarnated -- whether in another form -- but back to me because I miss them profoundly.  

As I write this, I cannot help but remember the many conversations I have had with my mother regarding the death of my father.  A few weeks ago, we remembered his image, lying there in the hospital bed.  An image that will forever be imprinted in my memory.  

He was pronounced dead before we arrived at the hospital in the middle of the night.  I held his hand and cried and said my last goodbyes.  But to whom or what?  He was not there.  That was the shell.  His temple, so to speak.  The husks, within mystical Judaism, that contain lights --  and that we are to gather together to create G-d.  So, does this mean G-d is present in life only?   

Ah, death.  The great mystery of life.  We fear it.  We find blessings and relief within it.  We feel guilt and sadness and experience tears and laughter as we remember the dead.  As the fellowship looks more closely at this theme this month, I pray that we never forget to live every minute to its fullest.  Easy to say, yet more difficult to actually do.

Of course, no October can go by, especially with a theme of death, without looking at Halloween or All Hallows Eve/Samhain and various festivals of the dead throughout the world. Perhaps, one of my favorite holidays will bring comfort as I don my favorite annual costume and trick or treat with my son.  We love to watch scary movies, attend Halloween parties, and even visit Disneyland to see the creative costumes of “Cast Members.”  

Let me look toward the festivities of October with wonder and awe as I learn more about death and life, so that I can live out my call.  Perhaps, this month of studying death will lead me to a rebirth of my commitment to this beautiful faith of Unitarian Universalism.    

Namaste and may you find life within death this October,

Summer  

Forgive Me

THE POET ASKS FORGIVENESS
by
Fay Zwicky

Dead to the world I have failed you
Forgive me, traveller.
Thirsty, I was no fountain
Hungry, I was not bread
Tired, I was no pillow
Forgive my unwritten poems:
the many I have frozen with irony
the many I have trampled with anger
the many I have rejected in self-defence
the many I have ignored in fear
unaware, blind or fearful
I ignored them.
They clamoured everywhere
those unwritten poems.
They sought me out day and night
and I turned them away.
Forgive me the colours
they might have worn
Forgive me their eclipsed faces
They dared not venture from
the unwritten lines.
Under each inert hour of my silence
died a poem, unheeded

September is a time for change. The summer is over and school begins again -- reminding us of time and order. Some will begin a new career. Some -- a new ministry.  Others will just begin, again.
There are new possibilities with September.  Yet, I am reminded that it is the month for Yom Kippur in which the Jewish peoples ask for forgiveness from God and others.  This requires humbling oneself before God and others.  It is, also, the first of monthly themes that will be explored in worship at the Unitarian Universalist Fellowship of Kern County, Bakersfield, where I serve as minister.

Forgiveness. It’s a difficult concept to fully
grasp. Not so easy to do.

In the aforementioned poem by Fay
Zwicky, a Jewish writer, she asks for
forgiveness for the poet within. She
apologizes for not writing and ignoring the
poems that were clamoring to be written. I
wonder, at this time of change, what might
we forgive of ourselves so we can begin,
again. What have you left undone? What
part of you is clamoring to be expressed?

For me, it is writing more. For me, it is
sending my manuscript to a publisher, and
facing possible rejection. Can I forgive
myself for ignoring the muse within? Can
I forgive myself for not sending the
manuscript yet? Can I begin, again, and
face this time of change with wonder and
open arms -- open to the possibilities of
transformation when I forgive myself?

May your September be filled with
forgiveness and new beginnings,
Summer

Spring is Rebirth and Re-Commitment!

The sun is shining upon our faces, the days are getting longer, the smell of jasmine is in the air -- all reminding us that spring is here.  What does this time of year symbolize? 

For some of us, it is a reminder of life.  We have come out of the dormant and cold days of winter.  Like a flower we emerge from underground and greet the day.  I

t is that time of year for rebirth.  It is the time of year when we look back through the winter of our lives and affirm that we will emerge whole, transformed, ready to take on life.  

For me, this spring is a reminder of my commitment to parish ministry.  I remember the sermon in which I explored the possibilities of "congregations and beyond."  I emerge re-committing myself to this vision of Unitarian Universalist Association (UUA) President Peter Morales.  

It was only a little over a week ago when Morales reminded me of this concept again.  I was at a conference for ministers, religious educators and musicians that identify as multicultural, in which Morales spoke to an expansion of vision of the UUA and our congregations.  

There was a sense of hope in transforming our world and I, lovingly, remembered how the congregation where I serve in La Crescenta affirmed their commitment to justice and transformation of society, as we danced out into the streets.  This was our collective rebirth as a community of love who dared to carry on the previous visions of our Unitarian Universalist forbears.  

How will you experience rebirth in your life?  What re-commitments will you make this spring?

My prayer for you is this:  May you feel transformation within your life and the lives of your loved ones...

Namaste and blessed be,

Summer

Where do we go when we die?

Do not stand at my grave and weep;
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there, I did not die.

- Anonymous

As I stood in front of those who had come to memorialize the life of my cousin, Eric Garvin, I could not help but think, where do we really go when we die? Is it that our spirit lives on, and we are always around - like the birds encircling the sky, or the wind that rushes through our hair? We lit candles as we each shared about this precious life, and how Eric touched so many and would always be remembered. The stories that emerged were so powerful that I could not help but think that Eric's spirit was there - guiding the words of all those who would share. In the intimate setting, surrounded by others who had passed on, I felt a sense of serenity and knowing that, no matter who you are, your life matters to someone. We are all interconnected and our choices affect others. I was a witness to a story in which my cousin saved his brother's life. I heard stories of how he helped others at their time of need -- whether it was through reassurance, affirmation, or acceptance. He may not have been president of a country, or written a book that would be quoted in classrooms year after year, but he saved people in his own way. His spirit will live on because of this. So, where do we go? We remain in the hearts of those with whom we come in contact. Perhaps, we float around in the sky, or play with the hair of our loved ones, or perhaps we settle into a new body and continue to touch the lives of others. Wherever we go is not important, it is how we treat others now that is most important. Your life matters. So, go forward and know that you are loved.

Spreading the Cloths of Heaven

Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

—He Wishes For The Cloths Of Heaven
William Butler Yeats

Read more on what this poem means to us as we ring in the New Year. See my post in Women Who Speak in Church!

Lost in God

Someone asked, “What is love?” God answered, “You will know when you lose yourself in Me.”

–Jalalal-din Rumi, 13^th century Sufi mystic

Click on this link to read the rest of my "Lost in God" post for WomenWhoSpeakInChurch...