life lesson #276

Hallowed days, Christmas Eve and Easter are both treasures and booby prizes of ministry. They are the days most hoped for and most feared. This year I wanted to leave town as soon as worship ended, knowing that I would be tired, but glad to get away as soon as the festivities were done.

I left the office at lunch, wanting to get a nap, finish packing, and shower before returning to church. As I ate, a torrential downpour began outside. I was glad for the rain and impressed by the volume of water. It occurred to me that I should probably check the basement because of the amount of rain that fell in such a short amount of time. As I went downstairs, I could see the reflection of light in water... a strange sight inside one's house... Much to my dismay, puddles had appeared at the end of rivers flowing from the edges of the basement walls. I grabbed a mop and industriously thought that I still might be able to get the water up with time to take a nap. But the water kept coming. I mopped a little more. The water kept coming. So I left the house to buy a wet vac. 3 hours, 30 gallons, and no nap later, I returned to church. Merry Christmas. Wasn't I in a great mood to sing "Gloria!"?!

Life's lesson learned: some messes are bigger than mops.

superstar girls

I will never be one. I do it in my own way, but I will never truly be one. You know, the ones who always look amazing. The ones whose kids are always well-behaved. The ones whose hair is always perfect, whose husband is cute and sweet, and whose house is well decorated. The ones who put the almost unnoticed final touches on things. They are the ones that are still beautiful despite their imperfections. They are the REAL popular girls. The cool kids of adulthood.

Today my inadequacies were lifted up in the small form of a beautiful, iridescent orange ribbon. A magazine was left on my desk with an article marked for my perusal. Instead of the post-it that I would have left, instead of a dog-eared page or a smashed-open spine, there was a magical, shimmery, orange ribbon marking the spot. Left in such a casual way that it just happened to be within arm's length when the reader decided to send it my way. But left in such a way that it is clearly an intentional inclusion of loveliness and speciality into the day. It was charming. I loved it.

But even as I loved it, I wondered why I didn't choose to add a certain finesse to similar, unimportant things. Then social conditioning around gender caught up to me; I began to ponder my failures as a Southern woman. How did I not learn this? Why isn't this an innate quality?

Even though I don't have special scrap ribbons for packages and letters, I try to bring my own je ne sais quoi to life. I cry with friends, am an unabashedly loud singer, ask hard questions, and refuse to accept the status quo. It may not be glamorous, but that's me.

There is a Season

"... In an achievement-driven society, life is not a thing of seasons; life is a product to be perfected and perserved. To this mind, it is never possible to simply go on, past the things of the past to the realities of the present. No, those who live by measuring-sticks rather than by the meaning of the present moment are intent on gaining and grasping. Letting go is not virtue to them. Letting go is loss..." -- so sayeth Joan Chittister in There is a Season

Her words have stayed on the top of my mind since I read them last week. In her introduction to the famous Ecclesiastes passage about everything having a particular time and season, she unpacks how our understanding of time has limited us in our relationships to self, God, and others. As she encourages us to see time in cycles or seasons, she leads us away from the count-down mentality that we often use. I confess that I often fall victim to the sales pitch of life as product. Constantly trying to improve, become wiser or stronger, more compassionate, more reflective, and on and on, I tend to live as if life were something to be achieved. As if there would be a top 10 at the end of time.

There is much to be said about her book. Let me commend both it and the artist to you:

Joan Chittister's There is a Season with artwork by John August Swanson.

http://www.johnaugustswanson.com/

Swanson's artwork can be purchased through the National Association for Hispanic Elderly at: http://www.anppm.org/NonProfitStore/

and while you're at it, bring a doughnut, too

It's true. There's no hiding it. The pastorate, as a profession, continues to be an Old Boys Club. (And, one could further argue a particular age, marital status, and family system.) I knew what I was getting into. I saw what I was up against. There are plenty of folks to counteract the OBC mentality, but it is not uncommon to attend a gathering and feel strangely out of place. They are often stuck in their conversations about how bad their sermon was and how much time they should have spent preparing. At a recent conference I found myself swimming again in a sea of salt-and-pepper hair, khaki slacks, and penny loafers. The conversation was intended to be about churches are growing. I thought, "maybe these guys are different..." But as I chatted with folks about my work as an Associate Pastor, I was saddened. Several of them sang the refrain, "Well, I could use an Associate." In the same way that you might say, "well, I could use a maid." Or, "That tie would go really well with my suit." This really frustrates me. As if I don't do the same amount of work that they do. As if I don't have the same qualifications. As if I am just a ruffle on their dress. Though they will protest and make penitent gestures, I sincerely doubt that they actually believe I (or other Associates) are their equals. I doubt that many of them would give up their "senior" title. I doubt that many of them would lower their salary to their associate's. I doubt that many of them could stop using "I" language in favor of "we" language.

Why do we buy into this hierarchical model? It isn't biblical. I wish that we could drop descriptors in front of "pastor" or use only "co-pastor" language. A verbal change is often needed to move into new space. There is no reason to have titles that maintain broken understandings of self and power. All are one. Sainthood of all believers. Keys to the kingdom. Come on, folks, we can do better!

a new day!

Friends, we are a different country today than we were days or weeks ago. Something has come upon us. And we will soon have a leader who will carry us forward. Someone who has vision for our broken pieces to become something new. And if you missed the incredible speech given by Obama in Chicago on Tuesday night, Nov. 4, here it is. One of the most inspiring orations in recent American history:

If there is anyone out there who still doubts that America is a place where all things are possible; who still wonders if the dream of our founders is alive in our time; who still questions the power of our democracy, tonight is your answer.

It's the answer told by lines that stretched around schools and churches in numbers this nation has never seen; by people who waited three hours and four hours, many for the very first time in their lives, because they believed that this time must be different; that their voice could be that difference.

It's the answer spoken by young and old, rich and poor, Democrat and Republican, black, white, Hispanic, Asian, Native American, gay, straight, disabled and not disabled - Americans who sent a message to the world that we have never been a collection of Red States and Blue States: we are, and always will be, the United States of America.

It's the answer that led those who have been told for so long by so many to be cynical, and fearful, and doubtful of what we can achieve to put their hands on the arc of history and bend it once more toward the hope of a better day. It's been a long time coming, but tonight, because of what we did on this day, in this election, at this defining moment, change has come to America.

I just received a very gracious call from Senator McCain. He fought long and hard in this campaign, and he's fought even longer and harder for the country he loves. He has endured sacrifices for America that most of us cannot begin to imagine, and we are better off for the service rendered by this brave and selfless leader. I congratulate him and Governor Palin for all they have achieved, and I look forward to working with them to renew this nation's promise in the months ahead. I want to thank my partner in this journey, a man who campaigned from his heart and spoke for the men and women he grew up with on the streets of Scranton and rode with on that train home to Delaware, the Vice President-elect of the United States, Joe Biden.

I would not be standing here tonight without the unyielding support of my best friend for the last sixteen years, the rock of our family and the love of my life, our nation's next First Lady, Michelle Obama. Sasha and Malia, I love you both so much, and you have earned the new puppy that's coming with us to the White House. And while she's no longer with us, I know my grandmother is watching, along with the family that made me who I am. I miss them tonight, and know that my debt to them is beyond measure.

To my campaign manager David Plouffe, my chief strategist David Axelrod, and the best campaign team ever assembled in the history of politics - you made this happen, and I am forever grateful for what you've sacrificed to get it done.

But above all, I will never forget who this victory truly belongs to - it belongs to you. I was never the likeliest candidate for this office. We didn't start with much money or many endorsements. Our campaign was not hatched in the halls of Washington - it began in the backyards of Des Moines and the living rooms of Concord and the front porches of Charleston.

It was built by working men and women who dug into what little savings they had to give five dollars and ten dollars and twenty dollars to this cause. It grew strength from the young people who rejected the myth of their generation's apathy; who left their homes and their families for jobs that offered little pay and less sleep; from the not-so-young people who braved the bitter cold and scorching heat to knock on the doors of perfect strangers; from the millions of Americans who volunteered, and organized, and proved that more than two centuries later, a government of the people, by the people and for the people has not perished from this Earth. This is your victory.

I know you didn't do this just to win an election and I know you didn't do it for me. You did it because you understand the enormity of the task that lies ahead. For even as we celebrate tonight, we know the challenges that tomorrow will bring are the greatest of our lifetime - two wars, a planet in peril, the worst financial crisis in a century. Even as we stand here tonight, we know there are brave Americans waking up in the deserts of Iraq and the mountains of Afghanistan to risk their lives for us. There are mothers and fathers who will lie awake after their children fall asleep and wonder how they'll make the mortgage, or pay their doctor's bills, or save enough for college. There is new energy to harness and new jobs to be created; new schools to build and threats to meet and alliances to repair.

The road ahead will be long. Our climb will be steep. We may not get there in one year or even one term, but America - I have never been more hopeful than I am tonight that we will get there. I promise you - we as a people will get there. There will be setbacks and false starts. There are many who won't agree with every decision or policy I make as President, and we know that government can't solve every problem. But I will always be honest with you about the challenges we face. I will listen to you, especially when we disagree. And above all, I will ask you join in the work of remaking this nation the only way it's been done in America for two-hundred and twenty-one years - block by block, brick by brick, calloused hand by calloused hand.

What began twenty-one months ago in the depths of winter must not end on this autumn night. This victory alone is not the change we seek - it is only the chance for us to make that change. And that cannot happen if we go back to the way things were. It cannot happen without you. So let us summon a new spirit of patriotism; of service and responsibility where each of us resolves to pitch in and work harder and look after not only ourselves, but each other. Let us remember that if this financial crisis taught us anything, it's that we cannot have a thriving Wall Street while Main Street suffers - in this country, we rise or fall as one nation; as one people.

Let us resist the temptation to fall back on the same partisanship and pettiness and immaturity that has poisoned our politics for so long. Let us remember that it was a man from this state who first carried the banner of the Republican Party to the White House - a party founded on the values of self-reliance, individual liberty, and national unity. Those are values we all share, and while the Democratic Party has won a great victory tonight, we do so with a measure of humility and determination to heal the divides that have held back our progress. As Lincoln said to a nation far more divided than ours, "We are not enemies, but friends...though passion may have strained it must not break our bonds of affection." And to those Americans whose support I have yet to earn - I may not have won your vote, but I hear your voices, I need your help, and I will be your President too.

And to all those watching tonight from beyond our shores, from parliaments and palaces to those who are huddled around radios in the forgotten corners of our world - our stories are singular, but our destiny is shared, and a new dawn of American leadership is at hand. To those who would tear this world down - we will defeat you. To those who seek peace and security - we support you. And to all those who have wondered if America's beacon still burns as bright - tonight we proved once more that the true strength of our nation comes not from our the might of our arms or the scale of our wealth, but from the enduring power of our ideals: democracy, liberty, opportunity, and unyielding hope. For that is the true genius of America - that America can change. Our union can be perfected. And what we have already achieved gives us hope for what we can and must achieve tomorrow.

This election had many firsts and many stories that will be told for generations. But one that's on my mind tonight is about a woman who cast her ballot in Atlanta. She's a lot like the millions of others who stood in line to make their voice heard in this election except for one thing - Ann Nixon Cooper is 106 years old. She was born just a generation past slavery; a time when there were no cars on the road or planes in the sky; when someone like her couldn't vote for two reasons - because she was a woman and because of the color of her skin.

And tonight, I think about all that she's seen throughout her century in America - the heartache and the hope; the struggle and the progress; the times we were told that we can't, and the people who pressed on with that American creed: Yes we can.
At a time when women's voices were silenced and their hopes dismissed, she lived to see them stand up and speak out and reach for the ballot. Yes we can.
When there was despair in the dust bowl and depression across the land, she saw a nation conquer fear itself with a New Deal, new jobs and a new sense of common purpose. Yes we can.
When the bombs fell on our harbor and tyranny threatened the world, she was there to witness a generation rise to greatness and a democracy was saved. Yes we can.
She was there for the buses in Montgomery, the hoses in Birmingham, a bridge in Selma, and a preacher from Atlanta who told a people that "We Shall Overcome." Yes we can.
A man touched down on the moon, a wall came down in Berlin, a world was connected by our own science and imagination. And this year, in this election, she touched her finger to a screen, and cast her vote, because after 106 years in America, through the best of times and the darkest of hours, she knows how America can change. Yes we can.

America, we have come so far. We have seen so much. But there is so much more to do. So tonight, let us ask ourselves - if our children should live to see the next century; if my daughters should be so lucky to live as long as Ann Nixon Cooper, what change will they see? What progress will we have made? This is our chance to answer that call. This is our moment. This is our time - to put our people back to work and open doors of opportunity for our kids; to restore prosperity and promote the cause of peace; to reclaim the American Dream and reaffirm that fundamental truth - that out of many, we are one; that while we breathe, we hope, and where we are met with cynicism, and doubt, and those who tell us that we can't, we will respond with that timeless creed that sums up the spirit of a people: Yes We Can. Thank you, God bless you, and may God Bless the United States of America.

personal privilege

It is a pastor's privilege to be with people in some of life's important moments. As easy as it might be for someone to say, "Of course the preacher is there...", it is nothing to take for granted. Over the weekend I was invited to participate in both a funeral and a wedding. It was very touching to bury one woman's spouse of 60 years, then move to blessing the first day of another union. I am slightly overwhelmed at the way a door swings open and arms pull me inside. In one situation, I had never even met the family. In the other, I had only known them briefly. How remarkable that we could sit and cry together. How remarkable that we could laugh and pray together. How remarkable that in this holy moment for both couples, suddenly I (a mostly complete stranger) am suddenly standing with them. I feel as though I must step lightly. I feel as though I should confess before entering the space and praise when leaving. Ministry is a beautiful, messy, intimate, sacred vocation. I wouldn't trade it for anything.

sad puppy

All relationships are doomed to an end. Knowing our broken world, it's inevitable that things will eventually crumble - whether in life or death. And when that time comes, do you keep marching with stoicism? Do you wear bright colors? Do you fight for the right? Or do you let your mascara drip? Do you sing James Taylor songs? Do you accept the inevitable with a sigh?

What do you do when you're really, really sad?

W. H. Auden:
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

strange worship habits...

Sunday morning I managed to visit another congregation across town. Having heard much about it, I was excited to see what great things they were doing. I confess that I was slightly biased against them. Nevertheless, I knew that they were doing some thing right.

I entered the space and was immediately greeted by folks. They gave me a gift bag (with nice travel mug, magnet, and church information), introduced me to some ladies, and pointed out the differnet information stations around the hall. They even escorted me into their worship space and helped me get situated. I wasn't embarassed to sit by myself, so I plopped down between other young adults and prepared to worship. The music was professional caliber, the congregation was engaged, and the leadership was enthused. Despite the lack of prayer and other congregational participation, I was enjoying myself.

Then, they announced that we would be gathering "around the Lord's table". "Great!," I thought. "This will be neat. I've never had communion in a church like this." Well, folks, let me tell you. For all of the imagery and story telling they gave, there was no table to gather round. There was no scripture read. There was no cup or bread. No breaking or pouring. Instead, ushers came down the aisles and passed baskets down the rows. We reached into the baskets and pulled out PRE-PACKAGED COMMUNION!!! Underneath a layer of plastic, there was a small wafer. The wafer lay on top of another plastic layer that covered the small juice cup. (about a thimble) The outer layer of plastic had the words "This is my body which is broken for you. Take, eat. Do this is remembrance of me." My jaw hit the floor.

Is this communion? If someone packages stale crackers in a factory far, far away, is it the body of Christ? If wine is never poured, if Scripture is never read, is this communion? If no one ever prays, if the community is never gathered (in some way: prayer, music, common words as you pass it to your neighbor), is it communion?

I have been mightily troubled by this aspect of worship. It is calling my theology into question. Am I becoming one of those uptight Presbyterians? What do you think?

encounters

A few artisans have found their way into my life recently. Though many would take them to be country bumpkins, they have amazing stories and incredible art. One such man is a painter who has long silver hair (in a pony tail), wears wife beaters, and boots. He used to be a drag racer, but decided to start painting because "it seemed like something he should try." His paintings are incredible Andrew Wyeth styled works. Without any professional training, he offers his uninhibited gift to folks. http://www.hrlovellgallery.com/

Another gentleman fell into my path who also used to race cars. (He holds some title in California... what's the connection between car racing and art??) George takes old horseshoes and fires them into different shapes, words, and figures. Marvelous treasures! His workshop is a collection of every manly tool and machine available. He decided that in his retirement he would do something different with his days.

I found these folks in one of Tennessee's tiniest towns. A town that was going to be the state capital, but Nashville came along and stole the show. Rural America has much to offer. Support your locally owned businesses, your independent craftsfolk, and those isolated restaurants on the forgotten highways!

two rants

OK, so I have two rants:

1) Are doctor's offices and other busy people allowed to follow different social rules because of their position? I recently visited an office to meet the doctor before coming under her care. I called ahead of time to tell the office what I wanted. They promised me that I could have 10 minutes or so with the doctor. I arrived for my introduction and was kept waiting for over 45 minutes, then finally left without ever seeing her. Apparently, the doctor was tied up with another patient. I completely understand this. My frustration comes in that after I left the office without meeting the physician, no one has called to apologise or invite me back. If I ever missed an appointment or was running so late, I would call to apologise or reschedule. It strikes me as incredibly rude for them to just ignore the situation. I'm not trying to be this important person worthy of royal treatment; I only want respectful care from someone who will be seeing me naked. I don't want a doctor who doesn't have time to meet me. Am I being too high-maintenance?

2) The Olympics should not be a competition for the most medals. I think that medal counts (by country) are obnoxious. Isn't this the one athletic opportunity when folks can come together and celebrate? Of course there are winners and losers, but must we be so competitive as to need to know how MUCH better we are than others? We romanticise the Olympics as some grand event when the world unites. Commercials singing of world peace, showing competing athletes holding hands, and singing songs. That is ridiculous! They are only united in that they are playing games in the same city. I wish that there was some game or competition when people from different countries played on the same team... Americans next to Chinese next to Ghaneans, competing against another international team. Does this exist?

tales from the town

It has taken me a few months to get myself settled in here. Time has been absorbed by moving, packing, painting, building, etc. But I am finally getting myself grounded enough to resume normal activities. The house and neighborhood are lovely. I frequently see deer, turkey, rabbits, owls, and other fun creatures parading through the yard. Addie loves it!

Here are a few fun tales from folks I've met around town:

A contract service person was working at the church one day. As he wandered around my office, he commented on pictures of my spousal-equivalent. The gentleman said, "He looks nice. Is he a minister?" To which I replied, "No, but he is nice. So, just out of curiosity, do I look like a minister?" (I never should have asked.) And the guy said, "Welllll... no! (ensue laughing)" Thus ended our conversation. Not my favorite person.

I purchased my lawnmower from a guy named "Louie". Seriously. I walked into his shop on the last day that it was open. Seriously. He told me that if I ever had any problems that I could call him. Seriously. So I call Louie and he calls me "Girl". Seriously.

Folks in the congregation here think that I am a teenager. A few can't call my sermon a "sermon", but call it my "comments". Everyone continues to be surprised that God can call a young woman into serious ministry. C'est la vie. My burden to bear for the next few years.

how much can you stand?

Sometimes I wonder how much I can deal with. The current leaving of one congregation for another is testing my patience and endurance. Certain relationships that have been unhealthy in their day-to-day life are flagrantly out-of-bounds in these stressful times. Of course anger is not a sin, though I firmly believe that violence is wrong... still, there are moments when I would really love to punch someone in the nose! Is this sin calling my name?

How much can you take?
How much are we supposed to take?

A bully on the playground always pushes you down. At what point do you react? How do you react? A 90 year old in assisted living listens to people patronise him every day. At what point is it all right to get cranky? At what point can you demand an alternative?

I don't like being the one who always stands up. I get tired of being the pushy one or the loud one. But I have zero toleranace for injustice and immaturity. At what point am I justified to stand up? Why do we have to take a certain amount before it's OK to defend or call out?

Best Valentine's Day Ever...

(and least sexiest)

Having spent the week delivering soup to my flu-infected spousal equivalent, I was not surprised when I awoke on Valentine's Day with a sore throat. The illness was disappointing considering all of the expectations for a first V Day with one's partner. Instead of roses, there was a bouquet of Kleenex. Instead of chocolate, there were boxes of Airborne. Instead of a sexy red dress, flannel pajamas were the evening's fashion. In spite of the outward signs, we insisted on trying to make something happened. And so it commenced.

Upon arrival at my somewhat sicker boyfriend's place, we gazed into each other's watery eyes and said lovingly, "let's not go out." The evening thus declined into a dreary sitcom. We coughed and sneezed on each other, ate a $5 take-out pizza, watched "Who Killed the Electric Car" (excellent, by the way), and discussed what vitamins would triumph over this version of the plague.

The first Valentine's Day is supposed to be a romantic climax. There are legends of apartments drizzled in rose petals, pots of chocolate fondue, and loving words spoken through the night. While I never expected the moon, I certainly wouldn't have minded a bit of Parisian romance. Instead, we were saddled with a heavy dose of reality. It wasn't terrible. We had a good time laughing at each other and remarking on our pathetic state. Our Valetine's Day was not a Hallmark facade of pink hearts and candy, but was a humble mark of care and devotion. Perhaps that in itself is sexy...

solo journeys

Haiti was heavenly, as always. I am so grateful for the opportunity to travel, see friends, and learn more. The chance to be with others in a cross-cultural setting raises my awareness of what I consider "normal", necessary, and comfortable. Those moments when I think, "EEKkk! Get me out of here!" Then I wonder what's at the root of this. Generally, it is my own ignorance about a particular way-of-being. Energy is quickly drained when surrounded by lots of new.

Part of me relishes the opportunity to travel and reflect alone, yet part of me is grateful for travel companions. It is good to compare impressions. At home, most of my time is spent surrounded by people, so moments of solitude are sought-after. Time in Haiti is a chance to step away from the constant chatter, to savor quietness and revel in my own reflections.

These things being said, it is interesting to me that, while still single, I struggle with the dance between the need for space and the need for intimacy. After 28 years of mostly alone-ness, being in a relationship takes quite a bit of humility and flexibility. And, though I complain of not having enough time to myself, I am actually tired of being alone. I am worn down by years of figuring it out by myself. I am jealous of those who can make team decisions. I am frustrated by my lack of competency in certain areas of life... places where one's partner might fill in the gaps... It is impossible to coordinate the many details of life alone. No one person can be an expert in car repairs, finances, house repairs, cleaning, decorating, cooking, and childcare. (Let it be said here that it is ridiculous to jump into relationship to meet only those fears/needs. I do not advocate unhealthy, codependent pairings that promote clinging, whining, and/or desperation.)

As I stand on the brink of another "new" thing, I wonder where the road will lead. Will this be yet another chance for me to prove how great I am at adapting? Will this be yet another chance to see how quickly friends can be found? Honestly, I'm exhausted considering it. Going to Haiti by myself is far less unnerving than the uprooting that stands before me.

I'll keep you posted.

Need for a revolution

Next week I will return to a place that I love. St. Joseph's Home for Boys in Port-au-Prince, Haiti and their sister home, Wings of Hope, located in the mountains around Port-au-Prince. http://www.heartswithhaiti.org/homes.html A colorful oasis from the often simple Haitian daily life. Homes filled with people learning and loving. Where running water is suddenly unnecessary, and air conditioning is never considered. Bucket baths, conversational days, and an unhurried life are the key to happiness. Previous visits have inspired radical changes in thought processes and positions. And, when someone asked, "Why are you going back?" I responded, "Because I have to."

Living in a first world country can allow one to become oblivious to global surroundings. The "basics" of our life (24-hour electricity, hot water, ready food, internet) are unthought-of luxuries. Never missed when not available. And, though we may convince ourselves otherwise, they are not necessities. The simple life is the way to go (kudos to Furman University's President, Dr. David Shi). Our rush to get into the air conditioning, to run 5 errands in 6 minutes, to achieve and accomplish has become an inane pursuit. But we couldn't stop ourselves now if we wanted to. Too much depends on it: careers, families, relationships, culture.

If it weren't for time in Haiti. If it weren't for a week at a monastery in France. If it weren't for specific days away, I would fool myself into thinking that I wasn't missing anything. But after spending 2, 5, 10 days following the natural body rhythms, after talking to whomever I encountered on the road without a stopwatch looming, after quieting myself to actually listen to others, I accept defeat. I need this. I need a reminder of something else. I need a reminder that I'm not perfection, I'm not an island, I'm not an army of one. I am part of a global community. Part of a people who are dependent upon one another. Part of an ecosystem where my trash affects those living downstream (literally and metaphorically).

So I need to go. I need to get in touch with what is real. Here I go!



To purchase Dr. Shi's book on the simple life, use this link:
http://www.amazon.com/Simple-Life-Thinking-American-Culture/dp/0820329754/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1199749134&sr=1-1