tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-42846136823488413912024-03-19T04:34:04.103-05:00Boots and BlessingsRuminations from a Texas Unitarian Universalist pastorRev Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04495907966950426682noreply@blogger.comBlogger130125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4284613682348841391.post-20954221070836674912022-01-26T08:35:00.002-06:002022-01-26T08:35:58.337-06:00Wordle, Wishes and Boundaries<p> <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 28px; font-weight: bold; text-size-adjust: auto;">Wordle, Wishes, and Boundaries</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2">In the beginning was the Wordle. </span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjcpwhBceHnRPk0WBCkChAoVZkHuxTSz-5U1vpqlu4S7vCzV8OI4DOKaQeEg0uCOyf-BRrsN7w7yRs-wZx7JbtYIoJlKsboMO3Zc2mS6FaTDK_yQy_moIV4l4S6-N-bp8KoaPJxsxucRLMh5QEI-zoOsLg-77DA6eNnS1oiAUuX7ojiTeA_-O1g61IpVw=s318" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="318" data-original-width="300" height="163" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjcpwhBceHnRPk0WBCkChAoVZkHuxTSz-5U1vpqlu4S7vCzV8OI4DOKaQeEg0uCOyf-BRrsN7w7yRs-wZx7JbtYIoJlKsboMO3Zc2mS6FaTDK_yQy_moIV4l4S6-N-bp8KoaPJxsxucRLMh5QEI-zoOsLg-77DA6eNnS1oiAUuX7ojiTeA_-O1g61IpVw=w154-h163" width="154" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2">Some people liked it, and some people didn’t. And then more people liked it, and they began posting about it on social media, especially Facebook. And so then more people found out about it. Some people liked it, some people didn’t. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2">So, what can we learn about systems theory from the current zeitgeist of Wordle? </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2">First things to understand: </span></p><ol class="ol1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-size-adjust: auto;"><li class="li3" style="font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2">There will not be an objective truth that is universally agreed upon. Is Wordle good, is it bad, should people share or not share … this is all immaterial. The issue is:</span></li><li class="li3" style="font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2">What are your wishes?</span></li><li class="li3" style="font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2">What are your boundaries? </span></li></ol><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2">A <b>wish</b> is something you’d like, but in healthy relationships, it is not an expectation. It is not a boundary. I sort of wish my spouse liked Brussels sprouts so we could share in my delight, but he doesn’t, and that’s okay. He’s happy for me to eat all of them. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2">A <b>boundary</b> is something so important that you create a consequence if your boundary is not honored. <i><b>Boundaries aren’t boundaries without consequences, they’re just wishes. </b></i></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2">So … Wordle. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2">Jane posts her Wordle scores on her Facebook feed. (And that’s okay.*)</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2">John doesn’t like seeing Wordle scores and says so, on his Facebook page. (And that’s okay.)</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2">Jane sees John’s post and takes it as a <b>wish</b>, since he hasn’t indicated any consequences for those posting Wordle scores. She still wants to share her score, so she continues posting them. (Okay)</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2">John posts that if anyone posts their Wordle scores, he is going to “snooze” them for 30 days. This is GREAT, because he is being clear with a) his <b>boundary</b>, and b) the <b>consequences</b>. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2">But wait wait wait, someone might say. People are posting on their own page! How can he make a boundary about what other people do? </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2">Because that’s how boundaries work. Boundaries do not go through a machine where they are stamped “good boundary” or “bad boundary.” They are a choice that an individual makes. What is is healthy in the above example of John is that he articulates the consequence. By doing that, Jane can now make an informed choice: if she posts her Wordle score, the consequence will be that John “snoozes” her. Is she okay with that consequence? Then post away, Jane! </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2">In this, everyone can make informed choices. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2">So let’s proceed with the story. Jane continues posting her scores. John snoozes her, but then seethes inside. “If you cared about me, you wouldn’t post your score,” he thinks. The next time he sees her at work, he is cold. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2">Okay, so that is an unarticulated consequence, based in an expectation: </span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2"><b>Expectation</b>: if you want to be my friend, you will do what I want.</span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2"><b>Unarticulated consequence</b>: if you don’t do what I want, I will withdraw my friendship from you. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2">Not healthy. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2">Let’s go another direction. Back where John initially posts that he doesn’t like seeing Wordle posts (but hasn’t yet set a boundary.)</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2">Jane sees his post and feels some anxiety that she’s posting her scores, and he doesn’t want to see them. But she still wants to keep posting her scores. So she creates a Facebook filter and puts John on it. Now he can’t see any of her posts. Great? </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2">Not great. This is <b>overfunctioning</b>, and she is taking choices away from John. She is <a href="https://bootsandblessings.blogspot.com/2018/09/look-spaghetti-arms-this-is-self.html">in his dance space</a>. Now, communication is a great thing. She absolutely could have a discussion with him. “Hey, I saw your post about not liking to see Wordle posts. Would you like me to put you on a filter so you don’t see any of my posts for a while?”</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2">John: “No, I like your posts about communistic anarchy and your new kitten. Can you just stop posting about Wordle?” (Wish)</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2">Jane: “No, I enjoy sharing my scores and seeing others’ scores.” (Boundary)</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2">John: Well, is there a way you can just filter me out of your wordle posts?</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2">Jane: I can try. I usually play in the morning, though, so I’m not sure I’ll always remember.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2">John: Okay, we can try that. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2">John has expressed a wish, Jane has given boundaries around what she’s willing and not willing to do. Most importantly, they’ve communicated directly to each other. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2">And of course, there are many other solutions. John could google, <a href="https://lmgtfy.app/?q=Can+I+filter+out+wordle+posts+on+facebook">“Can I filter out wordle posts on Facebook”</a> and take responsibility for his own feed. Jane could post her scores on Twitter. They could both decide to go jump on whatever will be the next fad. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2"><b>Wishes</b> … are just that, wishes. My mom is in her 90s. My sister-in-law and I both play Wordle every day and compare our experiences. I wish my Mom would join us in playing Wordle. She doesn’t want to. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2">AND THAT’S OKAY. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2">*Actually, “okay” is a value judgment and unnecessary, but for clarity’s sake about behavior, I’m putting it in. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p>Rev Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04495907966950426682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4284613682348841391.post-64898019624842133852021-09-04T17:14:00.002-05:002021-09-04T17:24:20.431-05:00And the Day Came<p class="p1" style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p class="p1" style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">And the day came when finally</p><p class="p1" style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">They put down their burdens</p><p class="p1" style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">And said, “That’s enough of that.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></p><p class="p2" style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><br /></p><p class="p1" style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">The moment was full of sorrow but also relief</p><p class="p1" style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Arms exhausted from carrying the burden</p><p class="p1" style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Of trying to entice, persuade, people to be more<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></p><p class="p1" style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Compassionate, wise</p><p class="p2" style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><br /></p><p class="p1" style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">They continued their own work</p><p class="p1" style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Of building a world more just</p><p class="p1" style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">But were freer, lighter</p><p class="p2" style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><br /></p><p class="p1" style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">The responsibility for others’ thoughts</p><p class="p1" style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Was gone.</p><p class="p1" style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">They taught through their actions</p><p class="p1" style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">For anyone willing to read their lives</p><p class="p2" style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><br /></p><p class="p1" style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">You can see them now</p><p class="p1" style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">At work in the daytime</p><p class="p1" style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Singing and laughing in the evenings</p><p class="p1" style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Ask for their views</p><p class="p1" style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">And they’ll give a mysterious smile</p><p class="p2" style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><br /></p><p class="p1" style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">You can join them, you know</p><p class="p1" style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">But you cannot fight them</p><p class="p1" style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">For they just continue on their way</p><p class="p1" style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Doing the work that is theirs to do</p><p class="p1" style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">They do not seek your agreement, your approbation</p><p class="p1" style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">When they encounter an obstacle</p><p class="p1" style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">They find a way over it</p><p class="p2" style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><br /></p><p class="p1" style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">I have never seen people who worked so hard</p><p class="p1" style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Look so at peace.</p><p class="p1" style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p class="p1" style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p class="p1" style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p class="p1" style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjskUousdibje9esTRwtSE06JP6LYATUbso6wSf_OPWpfMf7qY49ft4WywTlIjc-hluCqCXECltyv6geOSEBbJFmOUZDi07HDsOVri6N_diKynZA8k12LAVDjvlLLrQequIYs1UgttbWqZK/s2048/people.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjskUousdibje9esTRwtSE06JP6LYATUbso6wSf_OPWpfMf7qY49ft4WywTlIjc-hluCqCXECltyv6geOSEBbJFmOUZDi07HDsOVri6N_diKynZA8k12LAVDjvlLLrQequIYs1UgttbWqZK/s320/people.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p class="p1" style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p class="p1" style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p>Rev Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04495907966950426682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4284613682348841391.post-60823733597898114462021-07-17T11:53:00.004-05:002021-07-17T19:33:08.207-05:00Living in (Her) 90's<p> </p><p></p>
Last night, I came home after an intense couple of days. Spoiler: I’m fine, my mom’s fine, no need to read further unless you want to share in some processing about aging and life in general. <p>I have been given an amazing gift that I never take for granted. My mom is 90, healthy “for her age,” sharp, and at the moment, living independently in her own home. A few years ago, she and my father moved from a state away to be 15 minutes from my house. My siblings supported the move, which I’m grateful for. I am 16 and 12 years younger than each of them and have always been a bit jealous that in the end, they would have had that many more years with our parents than I. So I figure I’m getting more “quality of time” now.</p><p>The pandemic made things a bit harder, of course. All efforts were on keeping Madame safe, so no one went in her house, and she didn’t come into ours. I met her for our thrice-weekly walks on her sidewalk, and we’d visit in her backyard. My sister, who lives about an hour away, would come for short visits (no using her bathroom!) in her backyard, and when it was cold, they sat, masked, in my mom’s garage. My brother once drove straight through from Missouri to stay in a motel and come over for backyard visits. Longer visits were coordinated with 2 week windows of scrupulous quarantining on both sides. I probably don’t have to tell you – you’ve done similar with your family.</p><p>But we made it through and are all vaccinated. Madame and I revel in being in each other’s homes again, grandkids (all vaxxed) soak up time with her. She and I have begun slowly making our way out into the world, masked, but going in stores and such.</p><p>And then, Thursday, I got a call from my 16 year old who had spent the night with Madame. “She said to tell you she’s confused and can’t understand things.” I asked if she could smile with both sides of her mouth (she could), then jumped into the car. Picked her up and we shot over to the ER near her house, the ER we have visited at least 4 or 5 times this past year for a fall (tip: sit down before pulling a tshirt over your head), high blood pressure, those kinds of things.</p><p>They ran her through the tests – CT, blood, ekg – to see if she was having a stroke or heart event. The doctor explained it was most likely a <a href="https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/transient-ischemic-attack/symptoms-causes/syc-20355679" target="_blank">TIA</a> and advised her as to the set of tests she would need to have over the next couple of weeks, or, we could go to a full-service hospital and get them all done at once. Which would also be a little safer, as she’d be under their observation. Mom is always one for efficiency, so she chose the latter.</p><p>(Insert boring but stressful details involving my dear sister-in-law who was already on her way for a pre-scheduled visit thankfully, parking lot exchanges of checkbooks and cell chargers, gripes about medical personnel not communicating well, a million texts between family members, my spouse racing back from being out of town, and 2 pugs. Life is messy.)
The hospital was not fun, no surprise. We got through it. There were arguments about me staying with her (Madame does not live up to the title I have jokingly given her – she hates being treated like a queen and despairs at being a burden.) I work very hard to make sure that we honor her right to make her own decisions, literally turning my head down when doctors come into a room so they talk to her, not me, but as I explained to her, me deciding to stay with her was in <a href="http://bootsandblessings.blogspot.com/2018/09/look-spaghetti-arms-this-is-self.html">my dance space</a> and unless she kicked me out, I was staying. She admitted to being grateful, especially when her night nurse turned out to have a strong Russian accent, and that combined with a mask was just beyond Madame’s ability to comprehend her speech, so she appreciated me serving as interpreter.</p><p>Some notes specifically about “when someone you love, maybe-but-they-can’t-tell-and-probably-didn’t” have a stroke: if the person was on high blood pressure meds, they will stop that, as the high blood pressure could actually be helpful at moving a clot. And they will come in every 4 hours not only to take vitals, but also to lead the patient through a series of tests involving describing what they see in a picture, speaking certain words, lifting up legs and arms, touching nose, answering questions, etc. Even at 4 in the morning, they will do this. “I’m not sure my mom could do that at 4 in the morning even on a good day,” I said doubtfully, but Madame succeeded, albeit with a rather annoyed tone of voice. She has never been a morning person, a trait shared with her youngest daughter.</p><p>Ageism is an issue starting much younger than she, but let me tell, the ageism on a 90-year-old is pervasive and infantilizing. Medical professional after medical professional would come into her room, commenting with amazement at how good she looked! And she still lived alone??? She was independent???</p><p>“What is that like, on your side, receiving those ‘compliments’?” I asked her.</p><p>Madame doesn’t roll her eyes, I’m not sure if she knows how to, but she communicates the feeling with a simple direct look.</p><p>(Please do not treat our elders like freaks of nature because they’re still living their lives and looking good while doing it.)</p><p>We finally got the golden ticket to go home, hopped (okay, carefully climbed) into my pickup, and took a quaint backwoods trip home, with Madame trying to direct me, and me insisting that we “trust the machines, Mom!” aka follow my GPS, which kindly avoided traffic and gave us an enjoyable hill country drive. She admitted “the machine” did a good job.</p><p>I left her in the capable care of my dear sister-in-law and the two pugs. As I said goodbye, she repeated her constant refrain of the two days, that I just couldn’t know how much she appreciated me.</p><p>In one of those moments back at the hospital, when she was feeling frustrated and a little low, I tried to explain. “I guess this is just the price we’ll pay for you being 90 – but it sure is worth it, at least to me.” All of this is new to both of us. My dad died 5 years ago, and her own mother died in her 60s. Neither of us has experience, firsthand or secondhand, of going through one’s 90s. We are, each in our own way, going through it together, figuring it out together. With every new experience, we debrief together afterwards about what we’ve learned. (Key learnings from this episode: keep a small “go bag” with toiletries for her and me, snacks, and a cell charger. Insist on better communication from doctors. Insist that when an ER doctor agrees to a plan, that the nurse in charge come into the room so that everyone is on the same page.)</p><p>And BY GOD, you’d better believe this is worth it. I know so many people who lost beloved parents far younger who would give anything to have this. A few times a year, dealing with a medical event in exchange for getting to share in the life of a loved one who is still enjoying life? Pretty slick deal, if you ask me.</p><p>She’s the only one who can decide if it’s worth it to her. We talk often about what it’ll be like when the bad days outnumber the good. She’s still in the driver’s seat and her kids will never ask her to suffer for us. But for now, she’s choosing to keep up our walks, meeting twice a week with a physical therapist (“and doing those mmph! exercises”), eating her vegetables, taking her meds.</p><p>Because living is worth it.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFexNKhjw3i9OR0O8mNz_DckCRGfXQ_dne9ZGMu2ze165mw5wRn34BLazXyvOWelqNAMuYPqCjIoL0h51MWDUru6BiDhe1NGH7kgyqa_1Gco3ohhdQp3iIKwoBNipczc9JhwQeyFPL1fxt/s1695/IMG_6631.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1547" data-original-width="1695" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFexNKhjw3i9OR0O8mNz_DckCRGfXQ_dne9ZGMu2ze165mw5wRn34BLazXyvOWelqNAMuYPqCjIoL0h51MWDUru6BiDhe1NGH7kgyqa_1Gco3ohhdQp3iIKwoBNipczc9JhwQeyFPL1fxt/s320/IMG_6631.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Rev Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04495907966950426682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4284613682348841391.post-45873148156224515042021-04-06T12:31:00.000-05:002021-04-06T12:31:06.923-05:00"I Don't Know Who I Am Now" or The Importance of Not Assuming for a While<p><br /></p><p>The <a href="http://bootsandblessings.blogspot.com/2021/03/fortune-telling-next-5-months.html">next 5 months</a> are probably going to be kinda weird. Uncertainty and anxiety flying all over the place. Duck! And then after that ... it's also going to be kinda weird, but a different kind of weird, as we move into the After Times, and figure out what exactly they're going to be like, and what exactly WE are going to be like. </p><p>It is in times like these, that I like to turn to art to help make sense of it all. </p><p>I refer, of course, to the art known as the television series Doctor Who. I mean, if we know things are going to be weird, we probably should look at some art that deals with the weird, right? Now's the time to examine Hieronymous Bosch and Marc Chagall. And Doctor Who, that time-traveling, face-shifting hero. </p><p>Part of the Doctor Who story (and why it's been able to keep going so long) is that rather than die, the Doctor regenerates, retaining who they are, but with a different face, body, and to a certain extent, a different personality. </p><p>Immediately after the regeneration into actor David Tennant's Doctor, the character mused: </p><p style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: medium;">I’m the Doctor. But beyond that I just don’t know. I literally do not know who I am. It’s all untested. Am I funny? Am I sarcastic? Sexy? Right old misery? Life and soul? Right-handed, left-handed? A gambler, a fighter, a coward, a traitor, a liar, a nervous wreck? </span></i></p><p>We have survived a global pandemic. We have experienced a year like no other. Who are we now? As individuals? </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj83YzQI5oM8dywrd2B6t6bDyq_U1plCGGYDk5-4JxkcKNQnuJ0COJNTclNVf_nBW9LDOGqRPvpCPf17_Gj-8Z_MVRjITW85D1L5bqZMxoU7LE_5w_JWmvf4vk2Lswj2_oIZMlm6qUpCBkR/s1756/doctor+who.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="908" data-original-width="1756" height="206" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj83YzQI5oM8dywrd2B6t6bDyq_U1plCGGYDk5-4JxkcKNQnuJ0COJNTclNVf_nBW9LDOGqRPvpCPf17_Gj-8Z_MVRjITW85D1L5bqZMxoU7LE_5w_JWmvf4vk2Lswj2_oIZMlm6qUpCBkR/w400-h206/doctor+who.png" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p>Cartoonist Emily Flake <a href="https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2021/04/05/visions-of-the-post-pandemic-future?fbclid=IwAR244okWohu2hwv3qtNiLtAj6id4gtpJZM7VJqgEjr97KTGcsR0n4dgnXdo">did a strip about this for The New Yorker</a>, sorting through feeling different about hugs, being around other people, and her feelings about herself. I don't know about you, but "I eat flies now," may be how I introduce myself for the next year. </p><p>What this means: we cannot assume anything about each other anymore. Our ourselves, for that matter. So for a while, we need to learn to communicate very clearly and directly about what we want or don't want, and most importantly: do not assume. </p><p>Do not assume that your friend who was always a hugger still is.</p><p>Do not assume your extroverted friend still is. </p><p>DO NOT ASSUME THAT WHAT YOU ARE FEELING, EVERYONE IS FEELING. </p><p>DO NOT ASSUME THAT PEOPLE CAN KNOW WHAT YOU ARE THINKING. </p><p>One of the positive things that may come out of this pandemic is if we will take more seriously the entire issue of consent. Not just sexually, but all touch. Everything, really. For the next few months, I can see "Do you mind if I remove my mask?" becoming a fair question, even when everyone together has been vaccinated. Our threshold for risk, and for comfort, will not be the same. </p><p>Like everything, there is opportunity in this. Including opportunities for ourselves. </p><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: medium;">It’s all waiting out there, Jackie. And it’s brand new to me. All those planets, creatures and horizons—I haven’t seen them yet. Not with these eyes. And it is gonna be… fantastic.</span></i></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">We can allow the world to be brand new to us. To experience it with the newness that is us, regenerated. We are not the same people we were before. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Time to explore. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/YtesZDblpgA?start=73" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe></div></div>Rev Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04495907966950426682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4284613682348841391.post-44751531697544162572021-03-30T13:18:00.001-05:002021-03-30T13:19:23.931-05:00Fortune-telling the Next 5 Months<div><br /></div>For the next five months, we will be in a<a href="https://www.garrisoninstitute.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/05/Liminal-Space-5.1.20.pdf"> liminal space</a> to beat all liminal spaces. We are between the large spaces of the Before Times and the Post-Pandemic Times, and we are also between the small spaces of the Pandemic Time and the Recovery Time. <div><br /></div><div>We are not yet in the recovery time. The recovery time will (I hope) look similar to the Before Times, in that we will be able to go to church, children will go to school, etc. In Recovery Time, things will look "normal," but they won't yet feel normal. It will take time. It will require meaningful ritual and spiritual practices, to help us to make sense of all that we've experienced and to chart a new course. </div><div><br /></div><div><b>The next five months are the in-between. They are transition time. </b></div><div><br /></div><div>Transition is ... well, uncomfortable is the word often used, but really, we need a better word. Something that encompasses discomfort, irritability, our brains not really working well. I would like to go to a metaphor that everyone has experienced, but working from my own experience and what I've seen in others, I think this is so apt, that I will go with it -- the transition stage of childbirth. (I will speak from my own experience and what I've seen in some friends.) It's the stage right before the active pushing of birth. It can be painful, yes, but it's something else in addition. It's often the stage when the person giving birth wants to say that they've changed their mind, forget this, they're going home. It's often characterized as the most difficult stage of labor, and the time when doubt in one's ability to do the task ahead creeps in. </div><div><br /></div><div>We have so many dynamics at work right now, friends. <a href="https://time.com/5942577/third-quarter-covid-19-pandemic-advice/">Third quarter syndrome</a>, <a href="https://systems-coaching.com/2012/02/23/societal-regression-and-leadership/#:~:text=Societal%20Regression%20and%20Leadership.%20The%20eighth%20concept%20in,systems%20and%20finally%20to%20the%20whole%20of%20society.">societal regression</a>, the predictable <a href=" Heroic, Honeymoon, Disillusionment, and Reconstruction">Disillusionment/Reconstruction</a> phases of disaster. Our psychology is often not logical. </div><div><br /></div><div>It's my opinion that whether we are talking about our personal lives, work, church, or society, that we need to keep coming back to this question: <b>Am I operating from my best thinking or from my feelings? </b></div><div><br /></div><div>Speaking only for myself: I ain't gonna trust my feelings right now. Because those puppies are ALL OVER THE PLACE. </div><div><br /></div><div>Not only are feelings all over the place, but so are our experiences. We've been in the same ocean, but not the same boat, not by a long shot. I know retired people who can talk about how the pandemic has given them more time with their spouse, they've fallen in love again, and adjusted to a slower, more peaceful life. I know others, particularly those with full-time jobs, and school-age children, for whom the past year has been an unrelenting nightmare, where they wake up in morning and want to cry at having to keep putting one foot in front of the other. I know some who live alone who have experienced a deeper feeling of isolation and vulnerability than they've ever known. And some who have relished this time with few obligations, and endless time to enjoy new hobbies, or to dream new dreams. (Don't even get me started on those who have been in a politically-induced state of denial over all of this.)</div><div><br /></div><div>Along with having different pandemic experiences, we are not all in the same place <i>right now.</i> Some of that is literal - some people are living in areas where the rate of infection is dropping, while in others, it is rising, alarmingly. Some people have had both shots and already passed "Freedom Day," that magical day 2 weeks after your second dose. Children haven't had any of this. Many adults under 50 haven't had even their first shot. We have different comfort levels with risk. Some of those who have passed Freedom Day are ready to kick up their heels and get back to normal, which means they want everything else -- recreation centers, churches, restaurants, music venues -- to get back to normal, too. </div><div><br /></div><div><b>What this mean for collectives, whether it is families, churches, community organizations, or whole societies: a whole lot of MESSY. Imagine a giant pot, boiling over with resentment, confusion, defensiveness, anxiety. </b></div><div><br /></div><div>Anxiety for <b><i>miles</i></b>. </div><div><br /></div><div>But understanding the forces at work in our own minds, means we have the opportunity to get through the next 5 months with a minimal amount of damage to relationships and institutions. </div><div><br /></div><div>1. Understand that when we get anxious, when our amygdala gets stirred up, we stop using our prefrontal cortex, the part of the brain that is used for logic and reason. Learn to identify the feeling of anxiety in yourself - how does it show up? Tense shoulders, churning stomach? When it shows up, at least allow yourself to consider that maybe your thinking is not as clear as you think it is. </div><div><br /></div><div>2. Remember that our experience is not universal. We've each had different experiences. </div><div><br /></div><div>3. When we begin feeling judgmental about others ... just stop. Seriously, save judgment for some other time. The only person you can change is you, anyway. Focus on that. </div><div><br /></div><div>4. Be deliberate about kindness. In all our interactions. With neighbors. Co-workers. Family members. Friends. Service vendors. For the next 5 months, we need more kindness and grace. Make that the first priority. </div><div><br /></div><div>5. Always come back, with self-honesty and humility to the question: <b>Am I operating from my best thinking or from my feelings? </b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div>Our feelings are puppies, and not just the cute kind, but the crying, peeing, nipping, yipping kind. They're going to be all over the place. They are not always to be trusted. </div><div><br /></div><div>Principled, clear thinking will help us get through this. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt0YKUnNoDLtP1jw0zTtpG696LRC3jDxnQAonu7cHH6WVkNGCJoHePcXAjcTQCAANeNr0QtcNkFB02Jcf3PXnkezEBL_aw3CoQ37HDUoXeQRZmwSrWfUUoVdxiHabstOZYlgjeaWc_oeNt/s2048/pexels-nelly-aran-5772931.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1462" data-original-width="2048" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt0YKUnNoDLtP1jw0zTtpG696LRC3jDxnQAonu7cHH6WVkNGCJoHePcXAjcTQCAANeNr0QtcNkFB02Jcf3PXnkezEBL_aw3CoQ37HDUoXeQRZmwSrWfUUoVdxiHabstOZYlgjeaWc_oeNt/w400-h285/pexels-nelly-aran-5772931.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Rev Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04495907966950426682noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4284613682348841391.post-660788753425132202021-03-19T07:00:00.003-05:002021-03-19T07:34:07.854-05:00Lord Byron and the End of the Pandemic<p><br /></p><p>As humans, we have evolved to be wary of change. In a church, you see this all the time. I like to jokingly remind our leaders that if we change brands of toilet paper, someone is liable to leave the church over it. </p><p>Welp, this year our theme could be the line from one of our hymns: <i>Don't be afraid of some change.</i> Because whether you were afraid or not, change was here. Time to learn Zoom. And Youtube Premiere. And in non-church life, curbside pickup for everything from dinner to craft supplies. </p><p>We changed. We didn't have a choice in the matter. Trust me, if we'd had an actual choice, if the alternative was not <i>literally</i> potential death, we would have held lots of committee meetings, weighed the pros and cons, and decided nope, we were not going to change. </p><p>But we did. And now, slowly I hope, because it's the right and healthy and covenantal thing to do ... we will change again. We'll come back to church. Go back to eating dinner inside a restaurant where people put hot plates in front of us and then whisk them away when they're empty. Realize we're out of that one ingredient and run up to the grocery store to grab it. </p><p>In some ways, we'll go back to what used to be, but in so many other ways, we can't really go back, and shouldn't. We have learned things. We won't just do things because we've always done them that way, whether it's Thanksgiving at Grandmas, or shaking hands with everyone we meet. </p><p>So, again, we are facing change, and doesn't it seem like it's going to take a lot of energy? We may not particularly like our routine now, but after a year, we've gotten it down. It's familiar. And boy, we like familiar. To change now means going back to uncertainty - <i>how will things be different, how will they be the same? </i>We will have to make decisions, choices, again. </p><p>In 1816, Lord George Gordon Byron wrote his poem, "Prisoner of Chillon," telling the real-life story of François Bonivard who was imprisoned in the Castle of Chillon for his political activism. Byron imagined himself as Bonivard, telling the tale of despair, and wrote of when men came to set him free: "And thus when they appear'd at last,
And all my bonds aside were cast,
These heavy walls to me had grown
A hermitage—and all my own!"</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2VEnS3HW4SLs2UAWEudoUgBRCdS5FChBnIzwpBHNbFnfcTYXQZ3twULOIDAzVodeHXdNkPNeQI6MThKB6f3Z8r2cGUFTh0PQRuO1zJ3wNnBdSNOwKr24sX6IeVMlTLHYcKR8K_glgsuE3/s512/Chillon_Castle_11.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="341" data-original-width="512" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2VEnS3HW4SLs2UAWEudoUgBRCdS5FChBnIzwpBHNbFnfcTYXQZ3twULOIDAzVodeHXdNkPNeQI6MThKB6f3Z8r2cGUFTh0PQRuO1zJ3wNnBdSNOwKr24sX6IeVMlTLHYcKR8K_glgsuE3/w400-h266/Chillon_Castle_11.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><p>We have repurposed our homes, making them into offices, daycares, and entertainment venues. We've lived multiple days, never leaving. And we have been shaped by this time. Our relationships have taken on new dimensions through this. In the good moments, it has been a new privilege, to spend so much time with loved ones. In difficult moments, we have learned more about ourselves, and what we need to feel centered and mentally healthy. </p><p>Of <i>course</i>, our feelings right now are complicated. </p><p>Lord Byron ends the narrative poem with: </p><b><div style="text-align: center;"><b>My very chains and I grew friends, </b></div></b><div style="text-align: center;"><b>So much a long communion tends </b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>To make us what we are:—even I </b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Regain'd my freedom with a sigh.</b></div><div><p>We have grown friends with aspects of this lockdown. And it has made us what we now are. </p><p>It's okay to sigh. </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p></div>Rev Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04495907966950426682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4284613682348841391.post-62816259172116038002021-03-18T07:00:00.001-05:002021-03-18T07:00:09.323-05:00The Feeling of (Many of Us) All In It Together<p> </p><p>We are hopeful that the end of the pandemic and a return to some of the things we've missed is on the horizon, even if it's a few months away. But we may feel confused at our own feelings of <a href="https://bootsandblessings.blogspot.com/2021/03/the-pandemic-is-hopefully-ending-why-am.html">not being happy</a>, or being <a href="https://bootsandblessings.blogspot.com/2021/03/post-pandemic-and-expectations-of-others.html">anxious</a> at the thought of things getting "back to normal." </p><p>And then there's the feeling of camaraderie, of sharing an experience with many people. </p><p>Going through something difficult together - even if we are in separate houses while doing so - is often a bonding experience. For those of us who have chosen to take the pandemic seriously, even if our individual circumstances have been different, we have still had similar challenges. It has been reassuring, as a parent, to hear that other families have had some of the same frustrations, like when blogger/author Jen Hatmaker <a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/CMBW7xSsYQn/">shared on Instagram</a>, "I just cannot look at the grades. I can't do it. I can't look at the missing assignments or those that scored under 70%..."</p><p>Solidarity, Sister-Parent! </p><p>My beloved grandmother, whom we called "Mama Lanie," used to pat my hand when we were doing something ordinary but fun, and say"We're making memories." Well, this year, we've been doing many things, and many of them decidedly NOT FUN, but we have, in point of fact, been making memories. And many of these are shared memories. Years from now, like veterans getting together for a reunion, we will talk about 2020 and 2021 or the Great Pandemic, or whatever the future will name this period. We will swap stories of searching for toilet paper or creating homemade proms and graduations, and there will be threads going through all these stories that link us all. Unlike the veterans, this happened to all of us, all around the world, except you Australia, with your highfalutin mature and responsible government. </p><p>The movie <i>The Breakfast Club</i> is about 5 high school students, seemingly very different, who spend a Saturday in detention together and learn things about themselves and each other, and bond. But at the end of the day, one of the kids asks, "What is going to happen to us on Monday? I mean, I consider you guys my friends. I'm not wrong, am I?" </p><p>What's going to happen on Monday? This year, we've faced harrowing decisions. There is a deep and soul grief that over <a href="https://www.worldometers.info/coronavirus/">2 million</a> of us have died from this, half a million+ in the United States. Black, Indigenous, and other People of Color, and those with the least financial means have been affected disproportionately, but it has affected all peoples. We haven't all been in the same boat, but we've all been in the same ocean, even rich celebrities. </p><p>And there has been some sense of a shared purpose. Of helping each other out. Of getting a vaccine, and getting those shots in arms. </p><p>We've lifted up those who have been on the frontlines, our heroes, teachers, grocery store clerks, nurses, and spoken of how they needed to be better compensated, treated with more respect...</p><p>What's going to happen on Monday? </p><p>We are looking ahead, now, to things getting back to normal after this long, long year of detention, but we wonder: are we going to forget the feelings of having a shared experience? There has been an odd sense of togetherness, ironic considering we were so apart. We laugh at hearing how Prince Philip closes his laptop when he's done with a Zoom call or watch a video of Dolly Parton getting her vaccine.</p><i>
As you walk on by </i><div><i>Will you call my name? </i></div><div><i>Or will you walk away?</i><div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/DQ1QUK8KLH0" width="560"></iframe></div></div></div>Rev Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04495907966950426682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4284613682348841391.post-69039355813269315102021-03-17T08:00:00.001-05:002021-03-17T08:00:06.980-05:00Post-Pandemic and the Expectations of Others<p> </p><p>We have the hope that the covid-19 pandemic's end is in sight ... and it's bringing up a lot of feelings. <a href="https://bootsandblessings.blogspot.com/2021/03/the-pandemic-is-hopefully-ending-why-am.html">Not all of them happy</a>. </p><p>Many of us are feeling some level of anticipatory anxiety. </p><p>The anxiety is rooted in a fear that almost all of us have, in some form or another. The fear that others will make us do something we don't want to do. Whether it is through what can feel like the aggression of "your job depends on this," or the polite friendliness of social obligations, we pre-emptively worry about being dominated. </p><p>Look, the pandemic made saying "No" to in-person events super easy. So easy, in fact, that we didn't even have to say no, because no invitations were forthcoming. We didn't have to send regrets, we were all living in a world where responsible people didn't get together. Heck, those of us who before might feel we were being antisocial could now feel self-righteous! A win/win! </p><p>I kid, but only a little. </p><p>We anticipate that people will have expectations of us. Expectations that we will come into the office building, show up for church, the PTA meeting, family gatherings. Expectations that we'll put on pants. </p><p>Combine those anticipated expectations with how we may be feeling, and it all adds up to a heaping serving of anxiety. </p><p>We've gotten pretty accustomed to this life we've been living the past year. It may not be fun, per se, but it's familiar. And humans love familiar and fear change. </p><p>Shame, too, may be mixed into this. Fear that we didn't "make the most" of the pandemic time. We didn't become buff like <a href="https://youtu.be/GhitEObNgOU">Sarah Connor</a> in Terminator 2 or <a href="https://youtu.be/pKoWoEOuxis">Uncle Iroh </a>in Avatar: The Last Airbender. We didn't learn how to play violin or read A Brief History of Time. Worry that we're going to have to clean the house. </p><p>Frankly, a lot of us are softer than we were a year ago, and our minds duller. </p><p>Well, duh! We were going through a global pandemic! I mean, who looks back at the people who survived the London Blitz and asks, "Yeah, but how was your yoga routine during all that?" </p><p>Give me a break. </p><p>Give YOU a break. </p><p>The work that is to come will be to separate out the genuine have-tos (like your boss saying you need to come back to the office, or your doctor saying no more tele-health) from the expectations of family and friends. Take it slow with the latter. Make it short social visits to start. </p><p>And ask "why?" Why does the PTA meeting need to be in person? Why do I need to work in the office rather than at home? There were assumptions made pre-pandemic that we have proven don't hold true. Ask lots of questions. </p><p>And know that you're not alone in this. A lot of us are sharing our anxieties. Let's make it acceptable to say, "I can come over, but just for a little bit. I don't want to get the Covid-<a href="https://www.emedicinehealth.com/decompression_syndromes_the_bends/article_em.htm">Bends</a>." </p><p>And we'll all nod knowingly. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgg5qw8RNp_45sc2NztgJJmMPv1q0LozZ_sIduBxxx1KGIjDQVJf1sMnGaB76dqLDKRHagLVwQC9R6F1zs4JqoF6G1rgv5DwB3RSgqcapaw8JAwo7L9EeP-xUgZSkBzUQ-pxAyyxb8kV9P/s2048/pexels-pia-3113225.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1365" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgg5qw8RNp_45sc2NztgJJmMPv1q0LozZ_sIduBxxx1KGIjDQVJf1sMnGaB76dqLDKRHagLVwQC9R6F1zs4JqoF6G1rgv5DwB3RSgqcapaw8JAwo7L9EeP-xUgZSkBzUQ-pxAyyxb8kV9P/w266-h400/pexels-pia-3113225.jpeg" title="Photo by Pia from Pexels" width="266" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Rev Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04495907966950426682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4284613682348841391.post-80439532730026121732021-03-16T11:59:00.001-05:002021-03-17T09:16:08.369-05:00The Pandemic Is (Hopefully) Ending ... Why Am I Not Happy? <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">We are still in the tunnel, but we can see the light at the end of it. Many of our loved ones, or even us, are getting the vaccine. And yet, we may feel ... melancholy. Anxious. Weirdly sad.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpTHyUijbs8aDgQpguJfAEyEBE4UXkbQpeNlK-0U3CRambBgrWbBk74zsoFL40jbov3AW4kqhphEfNP8ABxKuZav-rfa7vp1HREbofWLMh1dmVysuBdkM5o6Qx6R4Y1DtYYF4pXw2cvMcP/s2048/pexels-andrea-piacquadio-3808803.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpTHyUijbs8aDgQpguJfAEyEBE4UXkbQpeNlK-0U3CRambBgrWbBk74zsoFL40jbov3AW4kqhphEfNP8ABxKuZav-rfa7vp1HREbofWLMh1dmVysuBdkM5o6Qx6R4Y1DtYYF4pXw2cvMcP/w320-h213/pexels-andrea-piacquadio-3808803.jpeg" title="Photo by Andrea Piacquadio from Pexels" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p><span data-tt="{"paragraphStyle":{"alignment":4,"writingDirection":1}}" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">It’s not weird. </span></p><p><span data-tt="{"paragraphStyle":{"alignment":4,"writingDirection":1}}" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">It’s normal. </span></p><p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">When my daughter was 3, she had cancer, round two. This meant a schedule of every couple of weeks, packing clothes, toys, snacks and more, and heading to the hospital to stay for a week. It was grueling. It was scary. The outcome wasn’t assured. So many nights, after she went to sleep, I cried into my pillow. </span></p><p><span data-tt="{"paragraphStyle":{"alignment":4,"writingDirection":1}}" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">And then, we were going in for our last stay. It was about to be all over. THANK GOD. </span></p><p><span data-tt="{"paragraphStyle":{"alignment":4,"writingDirection":1}}" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">And ... </span></p><p><span data-tt="{"paragraphStyle":{"alignment":4,"writingDirection":1}}" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><b>I felt anxious.</b> I hated watching those drops of chemo (poison) drip into her little body, but I also loved those drops of chemo (liquid miracles). While the chemo was going on, I had some feeling of soldiers fighting off the enemy. Protection. And now ... we were going to be flying without a net. </span></p><p><span data-tt="{"paragraphStyle":{"alignment":4,"writingDirection":1}}" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><b>I felt cranky. </b>We had a routine. Go to the grocery store, load up on food for our hospital stay, pack the toys, pack clothes for her and me, pack cupcakes for nurses and fellow patients’ families, drive downtown, get a giant dolly, load ‘er up, get admitted, get the IV pole, unpack in the room, put up the laminated posters, put on a video. <i>It was a horrible, exhausting routine, but it was <b>our</b> routine</i>, dammit, and it was familiar. I knew what to do. And now ... I would be untethered. Unsure what to do each day. </span></p><p><span data-tt="{"paragraphStyle":{"alignment":4,"writingDirection":1}}" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><b>I felt sad. </b>We got to know all the nurses and aides and custodians. We knew some of the other families. We saw each other all the time. How could I just walk away, never (hopefully) to see them again?
</span></p><p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><b>I felt guilty. </b>We got to go home. Other families didn’t. And some, during our time in CancerLand, went home without someone, their lives forever emptier. How dare I complain about anything? We were, as well-meaning friends who didn’t live in CancerLand reminded us, “lucky.” </span></p><p><span data-tt="{"paragraphStyle":{"alignment":4,"writingDirection":1}}" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><b>I felt scared. </b>
</span></p><p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">So scared. </span></p><p><span data-tt="{"paragraphStyle":{"alignment":4,"writingDirection":1}}" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">Because there was protection in living our cloistered existence. If she got so much as a sniffle, there was someone to run a test and instantly tell what was happening in her body. But we also were protected from the outside world. Even at home, there were few visitors and lots of handwashing. And of course, I was so scared of The Worst coming back. </span></p><p><span data-tt="{"paragraphStyle":{"alignment":4,"writingDirection":1}}" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">I have never talked to any fellow member of TeamCancerParent who hasn't felt some of this. Years later, we talk about it, the weird feeling of both pain at what we went through, and a nostalgic feeling for the way our lives had a singular, powerful purpose and so many small things were just unimportant. </span></p><p><span data-tt="{"paragraphStyle":{"alignment":4,"writingDirection":1}}" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><b>The way I see it, if you can feel sad about leaving Childhood Cancer, you can feel sad regarding just about anything. And I imagine there are parallels in all of this to our anticipation of the post-pandemic times. </b>
</span></p><p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">It's not weird. (But it can feel weird.)</span></p><p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">It's normal. (In a world where we no longer know what normal means.) </span></p><p><span data-tt="{"paragraphStyle":{"alignment":4,"writingDirection":1}}" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><b><i>Tomorrow: Post-pandemic and the Expectations of Others</i></b></span></p><p><br /></p><p><span data-tt="{"paragraphStyle":{"alignment":4}}" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">
</span></p>Rev Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04495907966950426682noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4284613682348841391.post-61741607196085861112021-02-22T11:12:00.002-06:002021-02-22T11:12:45.672-06:00We've Reached the "Tom Hanks Eating Raw Fish" Phase of the Pandemic<p>Last May, as it became apparent the covid-19 pandemic was not going to be a temporary affair, I wrote about the benefits of imagining you were <a href="http://bootsandblessings.blogspot.com/2020/05/the-benefits-of-imagining-you-were.html">shipwrecked</a> on a deserted island. </p><p>Now, a year after we began hearing about the "novel coronovirus," I suspect that many of us have now entered the "Tom Hanks Eating Raw Fish" stage of the pandemic. </p><p><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/LqvDFq4Ockk" width="560"></iframe></p><p>We've made the best of things. Rearranged home offices and homeschool desks. Got through the holidays, mustering as much joy as we could. There's a permanent hook or basket at the front door for our masks. </p><p>Most of us by now either know someone who died of covid, or are, at most, 2 degrees away. Our co-worker's husband's mother. Our friend's aunt. Or closer. We've grieved. </p><p>And now...we're just numb. We keep putting one foot in front of the other, because that's what we have to do. We eat, we drink, we sleep. We get our work done. We nag our kids to do school work. </p><p>But our affect is flat. Like Hanks, we are going through the motions. We find ourselves staring into space, a 100-year stare. </p><p>Over half a million of us have died, we hear on the news. Somewhere, far away, deep inside us, we're crying. But we can't quite reach that part of ourselves. We know we should care. We want to care. We are detached, with little energy to connect. </p><p>Vaccines have been created; they're trying to get them to us. We know we should be excited. But the struggle to get an appointment or to know that we're so far down the list, we need to let those more vulnerable get them first means that we just stare down at the hope in our hands and slowly set it back up on the shelf. We'll get it down later. </p><p>Don't force it. Don't force optimism, don't force hope. </p><p>(If you are in despair, that is another thing. Please reach out to someone.) </p><p>But if you're just ... flat ... <i>it's okay</i>. </p><p>Fields must lie fallow in order to recover. </p><p>Conserve your energy. Eat the boring dinner. Go through the motions. </p><p>The time will come when the circumstances will be right for us to plan our journey off the island. </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><div><br /></div>Rev Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04495907966950426682noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4284613682348841391.post-68169652517148871372020-12-01T07:35:00.002-06:002020-12-01T10:44:50.924-06:00Pandemic Elf: Holiday Movies<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcbg0J4hEVDbRj8LmM031kgO9taEUamNL96_hZNYSIHU58Kbb-bcjS7KMCF4XbCwLJfUGkO6Pk4-tCMDtYYOEGBIeNMIFcl7L1jb9o1au6S6AlZ9G3xf1xRLFgyZma1CYQ6tTAJ_iu8MDB/s792/Pandemic+elf.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="792" data-original-width="749" height="137" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcbg0J4hEVDbRj8LmM031kgO9taEUamNL96_hZNYSIHU58Kbb-bcjS7KMCF4XbCwLJfUGkO6Pk4-tCMDtYYOEGBIeNMIFcl7L1jb9o1au6S6AlZ9G3xf1xRLFgyZma1CYQ6tTAJ_iu8MDB/w130-h137/Pandemic+elf.png" width="130" /></a></div><i>Hello, I am the Pandemic Elf. I am your trail guide through the Holiday Path winding through the Pandemic Forest. My job is to point out detours, sinkholes, and other dangers so they don't catch you unawares. </i><p></p><p>Today's issue: Holiday Movies!</p><p>The tradition is our family is that the first holiday show to watch is the <a href="https://archive.org/details/HowTheGrinchStoleChristmas1966" target="_blank">How the Grinch Stole Christmas.</a> The original and the best, the 1/2 hour long special voiced by Boris Karloff. It is so much our family tradition that when my son was a senior in high school, and way too cool for family things, I jokingly asked him if he wanted us to wait for him the next year (when he would be away at college.) He sort of smirked and said nothing as we watched it. Then that night, as he headed for bed, he paused at the foot of the stairs. "Wait for me," he said softly. </p><p>We settled in, after our Thanksgiving dinner, for this year's viewing. Aforementioned son, now 24, was staying away because he is a very good and ethical citizen, and takes Dr. Fauci's advice seriously. </p><p>But the rest of us watched the beautiful little morality play about how Christmas doesn't come from a store, it's all about being together with people you care about, holding hands in one giant circle and singing. <i>Fah who foraze! Dah who doraze!</i></p><p>Well, ____ (insert expletive of your choice).</p><p>Well, THAT is kind of ironic. The three things you really MUST. NOT. DO. in this time of covid-19 are as follows, and I quote: </p><p>1. Be together with others.</p><p>2. Hold hands.</p><p>3. Sing with others.</p><p><b><i>Stink! Stank! Stunk! </i></b></p><p>Later on in the weekend, we watched <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0319343/" target="_blank">Elf</a>. The message wasn't quite as ironic, but both The Husband and I expressed discomfort at watching Jovie and Buddy walk, carefree and joyous, through the crowds of New York. It's just impossible, I think for most of us to suspend our disbelief. I mean, an elf from the North Pole, Santa and his sleigh ... completely believable. I mean, even narwhals are real, so I've been told, though I'm still a little doubtful. </p><p>But walking through a crowd, no one wearing a mask? It looks ... naked. Unsafe. Like watching someone on a roller coaster without the safety bar pulled down. </p><p>Sigh. </p><p>Look, the movies were all made in the Before Times. And so prepare to be pulled up a little short. To be reminded that what we are living in right now is decidedly <i>not normal.</i> </p><p>When you are ready to face that full-on, and maybe even deal a little with your grief about how hard this is, grab a box of tissues, plan a pity party, and watch <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0037059/">Meet Me in St. Louis</a>. </p><p>This is the musical that the wonderful song, "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" comes from. I have had issues with the sanitized version of the song <a href="https://uuminister.blogspot.com/2007/12/have-yourself-merry-little-christmas-or.html" target="_blank">for many years</a> ... and 2020 is the YEAR THAT PROVES ME RIGHT ON THIS. </p><p>Because the words as they are sung in the movie are exactly what are needed this year. It's like the song was written by someone who was living in 2020 and had a time machine and went back in time to give it to Judy Garland. </p><p>Are you ready for this? </p><p>Got tissues? </p>
Have yourself a merry little Christmas, let your heart be light<br /><i>
Next year all our troubles will be out of sight</i><br />
Have yourself a merry little Christmas, make the yule-tide gay<br />
Next year all our troubles will be miles away<br /><br />
Once again as in olden days<br />
Happy golden days of yore<br /><i>
Faithful friends who are dear to us<br />
Will be near to us once more<br />
Someday soon, we all will be together, if the fates allow<br /><b>
Until then, we'll have to muddle through somehow</b></i><br />
So have yourself a merry little Christmas now<br /><br /><div>So, here's to muddling through somehow. And lifting a prayer that next year all our troubles will be out of site, and faithful friends will be -- physically, even! -- near to us once more. </div><div><br /></div><div>p.s. The original lyrics were even more somber. "Have yourself a merry little Christmas. <a href="https://ew.com/article/2007/01/08/history-popular-holiday-song/">It may be</a> your last..." Let's do all we can from making that one relevant. Wear your mask. Stay out of crowds. Sing only in your own home, around the people you live with. </div><div><br /></div><div>But <i>do </i>sing. </div><div><br /></div>Rev Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04495907966950426682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4284613682348841391.post-42165317449321268872020-11-18T07:00:00.001-06:002020-11-18T07:00:03.830-06:00Pandemic Elf: Holiday music<p>Hello, I am the Pandemic Elf. I am your trail guide through the Holiday Path winding through the Pandemic Forest. My job is to point out detours, sinkholes, and other dangers so they don't catch you unawares. </p><p>First up: MUSIC! </p><p>So I was hurtling down TX-130 (literally - the speed is 80, and judging by the vehicles around me, that's a minimum speed) to meet my best friend, the BFF-DRE, in La Grange, which is more or less the middle point between her house in Houston and mine in Austin. I turned on a <a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2eaYJJpRVGt6Ouop9c19vm?si=4UWUI_w4RG6oh1_-YuAFVg" target="_blank">Spotify playlist</a> of songs from <a href="https://www.wqxr.org/story/258126-when-shopping-tires-meant-buying-christmas-album/" target="_blank">Firestone Christmas albums</a> which some dear soul compiled to kind of jump-start my holiday spirit. </p><p>Oh my. </p><p>Oh my my my. </p><p>This is not 2019. Things are different this year. <br /><br />As each song came on, I couldn't help but talk back to them, and rather sardonically: </p><p>♪ It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year! <br /> <i>Yeah, dude, but this is 2020. Pretty low bar.</i><br /></p><p><span>♪ Here We Come a Caroling ...<br /><i><span> </span>Ack! You're not wearing a mask! And singing in one of the biggest ways to spread covid! (slams door)</i></span></p><p>♪ City sidewalks, busy sidewalks ...<br /><span> </span><i>Nope. No, they're not. And if they are, they shouldn't be. Call your governor and demand lockdown. </i></p>♪ ...And when you walk down the street, say hello to friends you know, and everyone you meet.<div> <i> I can't recognize anyone I know under these masks. And saying hello = potential transmission.</i><br /><div><br /></div><div>♪ I'll be home for Christmas, you can plan on me.<div> <i> (Bursts into tears.)</i></div><div><i><br /></i><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjKf20rOeLYu-3I42N4I-lgs6YuS0DsBfdzqW97ghbJV0gOEar13NvuND4Bkvwo4_bA4J7HmiqoBRd20ZH1_9QWlHueLyUjxXxhtJiq0uqhYAUaTyMfcvVlHDt89AZ_YKYN3twpLHGEek0/s1280/piano-1655558_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="853" data-original-width="1280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjKf20rOeLYu-3I42N4I-lgs6YuS0DsBfdzqW97ghbJV0gOEar13NvuND4Bkvwo4_bA4J7HmiqoBRd20ZH1_9QWlHueLyUjxXxhtJiq0uqhYAUaTyMfcvVlHDt89AZ_YKYN3twpLHGEek0/s320/piano-1655558_1280.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>So, forewarned is forearmed. When listening to the classic songs of yore (yore=every year before 2020), you have three choices: </p><p>1) Laugh out loud and mock those lyrics which SO do not work in this time of Pandemic; </p><p>2) Ignore the pandemic, and be transported to pre- or post-covid world; </p><p>3) Cry.</p><p>Frankly, all the choices are good ones. I intend on a carefully orchestrated combination, depending on the song and what I'm feeling in any given moment. </p><p>Interesting note to my religious liberal friends. You know who you are. The ones reading ahead in the hymnal to see if you agree with the next line, ready to quibble over word choices: </p><p>The songs that still work this year are actually the religious ones. <i>Silent Night</i> and <i>Hark the Herald Angels Sing</i> and <i>O Little Town of Bethlehem</i>. So listen away. Use your <a href="https://bootsandblessings.blogspot.com/2018/03/using-your-universal-theological.html">universal translator</a> and translate <i>Jesus</i> or <i>Baby</i> or <i>King</i> into something that gives you hope, maybe <i>Dr. Fauci</i> or <i>Stacey Abrams </i>or <i>Ron Klain</i> or <i>Cyrus Vance</i>. <br /><br /><i>Let every heart prepare him room. </i><br /><br />Or just enjoy the metaphor of a baby being born into a scary, unjust world who would grow up to talk about peace and healing people and loving your neighbor and overthrowing corrupt systems. </p><p><br /></p></div></div></div>Rev Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04495907966950426682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4284613682348841391.post-85389117560901997522020-06-30T20:52:00.001-05:002020-06-30T20:55:17.820-05:00Texans, Stay the Hell Home This 4th of JulyAs Molly Ivins famously said,"I dearly love the state of Texas, but I consider that a harmless perversion on my part and discuss it only with consenting adults."<br />
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I am a seventh-generation Texan and do love it. And as the 4th of July edges closer, I am both scared and mad for my state. <i>I'm <b>scad</b>. </i><br />
<br />
Today - Tuesday - it was reported that we hit a new record - almost <a href="https://www.click2houston.com/news/local/2020/06/30/texas-hits-new-daily-case-high-with-almost-7000-coronavirus-cases-tuesday-75k-cases-reported-in-last-3-weeks/">7000 new cases </a>in one day.<br />
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And Saturday is July 4th.<br />
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Something I've heard, and bless my heart I have probably said myself several weeks ago, is "...and this feels safe."<br />
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No, no, my friends. There is no "feels safe." This is not something on which we can rely on our instincts. We have to rely on science.<br />
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<b>Stay home unless you are required by your job or have another required reason.</b><br />
<b>Get curbside groceries or delivery.</b><br />
<b>Wear a mask.</b><br />
<b>And in the name of Molly and all that is holy, please do not gather with friends and family for an Independence Day barbecue.</b><br />
<br />
Think ahead. July 4th. Plan your groceries. Plan to watch the fireworks on tv. Watch <a href="https://www.aol.com/article/lifestyle/2020/06/30/hamilton-the-movie-is-coming-exclusively-to-disney-plus-this-week/24541785/">Hamilton</a>. Or <a href="https://www.justwatch.com/us/movie/1776">1776</a>. Or any of those other patriotic (and probably problematic) <a href="https://ew.com/movies/most-patriotic-movies-of-all-time/?slide=5681854#5681854">movies</a>.<br />
<br />
Make giant ice cream Sundaes with fresh peaches, or hot fudge sauce and sprinkles.<br />
Eat potato salad that you don't have to worry about it, because it's been in your fridge the whole time.<br />
Drink lemonade or <a href="https://copykat.com/redneck-margaritas-the-best-beer-margaritas/">Redneck Margaritas </a>if you imbibe.<br />
<br />
Listen to the 1812 Overture and insist on narrating <a href="https://blog.oup.com/2013/08/1812-overture-tchaikovsky-romantic-music/">what's happening in the song</a> to your bored-looking children, with great animation.<br />
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Play Stars and Stripes forever to your annoyed-looking neighbors (20 feet away). Keep the beat by banging on your trash can.<br />
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Curl up with a pitcher of something cold, some Fritos and bean dip, and read Howard Zinn's<br />
<i><a href="https://www.zinnedproject.org/materials/peoples-history-of-the-united-states">A People's History of the United States</a> </i>to learn all the things about our history we never learned in school.<br />
<br />
There will come another time when we will return to figuring out how to make this all more sustainable, how to expand our bubbles, and take calculated risks.<br />
<br />
But right now, for Texas, the <a href="https://www.kvue.com/article/news/health/coronavirus/austin-convention-center-coronavirus-field-hospital/269-ba2931e5-8369-4f51-8b19-42e1a4e2e799">calculations</a> are in.<br />
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Stay the hell home.<br />
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<br />Rev Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04495907966950426682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4284613682348841391.post-30632823522150510292020-06-19T12:21:00.000-05:002020-06-19T12:21:14.622-05:00900 Days: A White Texan Contemplates JuneteenthToday is "Juneteenth." Being a Texan, albeit a white one, it is an anniversary I've known about my entire life. I grew up in Houston, where there were special Juneteenth concerts at Miller Outdoor Theater, there would be a celebration at <a href="https://www.houstontx.gov/parks/parksites/emancipationpark.html">Emancipation Park</a>, there were neighborhood parades, I think I even remember Astroworld doing something. And the <a href="https://www.juneteenth.com/history.htm">full history</a> was known - this was the day when the news finally got to Galveston about the Emancipation Proclamation.<br />
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As our Black friends celebrate the day, I hope that white Texans will think about how Texas continues to delay justice. I (cynically? Or is it just realistically?) wonder how much the lesson that was absorbed in Texas was that "hey, but the slave owners snuck in one last harvest."<br />
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It is now common practice for our state legislature to <a href="https://www.aclutx.org/en/press-releases/court-rules-texas-anti-boycott-law-unconstitutional-protects-first-amendment-right">pass</a> <a href="https://www.houstonchronicle.com/politics/texas/article/Unconstitutional-anti-abortion-law-costs-Texas-14461220.php">laws</a> that they know are <a href="https://www.theusconstitution.org/litigation/veasey-v-abbott-5th-cir/">unconstitutional</a>. But it buys them time to destroy businesses and lives. It buys them time to <a href="https://www.texastribune.org/2020/05/11/texas-mail-voting-rules-coronavirus-lawsuit/">disenfranchise</a> voters.<br />
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How does Texas continue to sneak around, doing what is illegal and immoral, finding tricks to delay justice?<br />
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It was 900 days between the Emancipation Proclamation becoming official, and the news getting to Texas.<br />
<br />
900 Days.<br />
<br />
Enslaved people died during those 900 days, never knowing they were free.<br />
Families were divided during those 900 days.<br />
Money continued to be stolen from Black workers during those 900 days.<br />
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How much evil can be done in 900 days? How much injustice?<br />
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The answer to "How long?" has often been answered by Texas with "Just a little longer."<br />
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Justice delayed is justice denied. May Juneteenth be for white Texans a day of shame and repentance.<br /><br /><i>In honor of Juneteenth, please consider a donation to: </i><br />
<a href="https://www.innocenceproject.org/">The Innocence Project</a><br /><a href="https://austinjustice.org/">Austin Justice Coalition</a><br />
<a href="http://hmaac.org/">Houston Museum of African American Culture</a><br /><a href="https://www.centerhealingracism.org/">Center for the Healing of Racism</a><br />Rev Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04495907966950426682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4284613682348841391.post-65658660491415971222020-06-08T07:00:00.000-05:002020-06-08T07:00:07.626-05:00Balancing data and processingI'm a fan of sci-fi for its ability to envision different worlds and ways of being. Since coronavirus began, I've been rewatching <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Star_Trek:_Voyager">Star Trek Voyager</a>, a space show about a team stranded a long way from home. There've been some interesting parallels with what's happening in current events. Including a pandemic. Dontcha kinda wish you could shoot coronavirus like this?<br />
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In an episode titled "The Voyager Conspiracy," there is a character called Seven of Nine who has the ability to download information straight into her brain. She engineers the system to download months of information at a time, but her ability to process the information can't be sped up. In trying to make sense of the data, she begins formulating conspiracy theories. Over and over, she adds 2 + 2 and winds up with 5. Too much data, and not enough time to absorb and process it.<br />
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So, how are you in this balance right now?<br />
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It feels to me like new information, new data, is coming at us at lightning speed. Already trying to make sense of a global pandemic and the new reality we're in, now the facts and the analysis of the antiracism Uprising are coming at us, many pieces at a time.<br />
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The events themselves are something I don't want to slow down - the white supremacy that has gripped our world is showing cracks, and I hope we can bring our weight to jump up and down on those cracks to make permanent breaks.<br />
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For us to do so is going to take our best thinking. We are no longer willing to accept only cracks, and so people are now seriously considering what it would look like to re-imagine how we do public safety, our system of justice. Individuals are considering how we have been shaped by white supremacy, and how we can work to eradicate the racism within ourselves, and learn to be more effective antiracists.<br />
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There is much data out there - <a href="https://www.theatlantic.com/ideas/archive/2019/02/antiracist-syllabus-governor-ralph-northam/582580/">books</a>, <a href="http://crossroadsantiracism.org/learn-more/watch/">videos</a>, <a href="https://medium.com/wake-up-call/a-detailed-list-of-anti-racism-resources-a34b259a3eea">articles</a>. And we need that data to stir and wake up the ideas in our heads.<br />
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But pause after reading or watching before diving into the next. Process the ideas. Make sense of them. Think about how they apply to you, your family, your community. Remember taking geometry? "You can't just memorize the theorems," my mother would fuss. "You have to <i>understand</i> them." Thinking takes some time. Make the time.<br />
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And watch out for those conspiracy theories, okay? Often, they're created with data -- but no processing.<br />
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<br />Rev Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04495907966950426682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4284613682348841391.post-41885602552806462192020-06-01T07:00:00.000-05:002020-06-01T07:00:05.945-05:00Moving from Crisis to the New NormalWith coronavirus, most of us have been in crisis mode since the second week of March. We burned the candle at both ends, and relit another from its flame right before it sputtered out. We figured out how to do our jobs from home, help our kids do school from home, and how to take care of ourselves and each other as best we could.<br />
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I mean, it really is sort of amazing. I know our church was up and online in 7 days. People who had never ordered groceries swiftly learned how to do curbside or delivery. People who hated computers and wanted nothing to do with them took a deep breath, downloaded Zoom, and have been getting on regularly, cheering the spirits of their friends and family members. Bravo, us!<br />
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Now, we're facing the idea that this is probably going to go on for a while, and we're going to need to find sustainable ways to live in this way. We're experimenting with <a href="https://www.technologyreview.com/2020/05/09/1001547/coronavirus-bubble-pod-quaranteam-social-distancing-negotiation/">expanding our protective bubbles, </a> moving our furniture around, throwing out the sourdough starter if we don't actually want to bake bread, and figuring out how we can do things in better and/or easier ways. We're moving out of crisis mode.<br />
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And good thing, because there are other crises ready to pile on top, and we have to figure out <a href="https://time.com/5844932/minneapolis-protests-coronavirus-masks/">how to do them in the time</a> of Corona.<br />
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As for me, I'm going to hit "pause" on writing blog pieces 5 times a week and go back to my sporadic practice, which means there may be one post a week, or none, or 5 in one day if I really get riled. If you're a member of Live Oak, I'll still be writing once a week in our newsletter, and you can always follow me on <a href="https://www.facebook.com/joanna.crawford">Facebook</a>.<br />
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I resisted calling this time "the new normal," which was probably 98% me still in fierce denial that this was happening and would continue to happen for the foreseeable future.<br />
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But here's the deal ... it is. This is the new normal and we can't wish it away. But from my experience, anything can become ordinary. That was one of the big surprises of childhood cancer, how quickly it became normal, the routine of going to the hospital, taking the meds, walking the floors while pushing her iv pole.<br />
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The goal now is to make it the best version of <i>this</i> normal it can be. To be of service to each other, to work for justice, and to find some pleasure in each day. "Ordinary Time" in the pandemic.<br />
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<br />Rev Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04495907966950426682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4284613682348841391.post-54485193402751864832020-05-29T07:00:00.000-05:002020-05-29T07:00:05.286-05:00Trust and Covid-19When my best friend had twin toddlers, she decided that there was no way she and her partner could do this alone, they were going to need to have a baseline trust, rather than suspicion, of the people they would encounter each day.<br />
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We have to trust others. The question is, who are you going to trust? This may be the bottom line of the division that is between Americans today. Who do we decide to trust? Who do we not trust?<br />
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I trust scientists who show that they are following the appropriate research guidelines of today, e.g. peer-reviewed studies, double-blind tests, etc. I don't trust the currently government administration, but if I'm being truthful, I don't fully trust any administration on certain things. In times of crisis, part of their job is to not induce panic. So I don't always trust that I'm hearing the full story. But when verifiable facts, studies, witnesses are provided, I pay attention.<br />
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We are so terribly divided on this, aren't we? I will say, I also give credence to the idea that the best predictor of future performance is past performance. If someone has repeatedly been proven to lie, I do not trust them. Which may mean I miss out on a truth sometimes -- the wolf really <i>did</i> show up to the boy, after he'd lied about it several times.<br />
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What I try to fight within myself is a tendency to trust those I already agree with, and distrust those I disagree with. It's not easy. So I look closer. What are the actual facts, without commentary?<br />
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Right now, I am trusting reputable news sources. I am trusting the direct experience of those on the front lines of the covid-19 battle. I am accepting that what scientists learn about covid-19 is the best they know each day, and that they may get more information tomorrow that mitigates or changes what they know.<br />
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And I am trusting that most people really are trying to make the best decisions they can, not only for themselves, but for our world at large.<br />
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<br />Rev Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04495907966950426682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4284613682348841391.post-18983298187048841062020-05-28T07:00:00.000-05:002020-05-28T07:00:02.400-05:00Could You Send Her for the Ammunition? Let me preface by saying I know that not all people are comfortable with military/war metaphors, so feel free to either find a metaphor that works for you, or skip this altogether.<br />
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My dad, however, was a Korean war veteran who went to military college (that's what Texas A&M was in those days), originally stationed in artillery before being changed at the last minute to be a teacher in the corps of engineers. So some battle metaphors worked for him in explaining the world around him.<br />
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His highest compliment about a person's character was an affirmative answer to "but could you send them for the ammunition?"<br />
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The metaphor is this: you are in battle, and it's not looking good. You've got a partner with you, and y'all are running out of ammunition. If you send this person back to get more ammunition, will they return? Or will they promise to return, but then run the opposite direction, sacrificing you in the process?<br />
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He and I would talk about this, in real-life terms. He'd admit that there are some people he's really liked - but he also knew that they were not someone he could send for the ammunition. And there were people who frankly, he didn't particularly enjoy spending time with ... but by gum, he knew that if they would return with the ammunition, no matter what. And people who fell somewhere along the spectrum, like the person who wouldn't return with the ammunition, but would be truthful about it before leaving.<br />
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It is a scary world we are living in, and has been a scary world for a very long time for those with black or brown skin, or economically vulnerable.<br />
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And so I think about what is it that I am called to do, to be the kind of person whom you could send for the ammunition.Rev Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04495907966950426682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4284613682348841391.post-5816986855298788682020-05-27T07:00:00.000-05:002020-05-27T07:00:06.097-05:00Responsibility For, Responsibility ToOne of the chief values in being part of a community whether it be a church, a town, or a country, is a sense of responsibility as a member of that community.<br />
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But we are also individuals, not just cogs in a machine. We make our own decisions, determine for ourselves what we believe, and shape our own lives.<br />
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Like many things in life, there needs to be a dynamic tension between individuality and community. In our faith of Unitarian Universalism, this tension is seen by the "bookends" of our Seven Principles. The Seven Principles are a set of promises, a sacred "to-do list," that every UU congregation promises to the other UU congregations that they will work toward.<br />
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The First Principle is that we affirm and promote "The inherent worth and dignity of every person." The Seventh Principle is that we affirm and promote "Respect for the interdependent web of all existence of which we are a part." To be a Unitarian Universalist community means to hold those in tension, honoring the divine value of each person, while understanding that our lives are blended together and we must take the overarching wellbeing of all into our decision-making.<br />
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My systems mentor, Ken Shuman, refers to these questions about individuality and community in a framework of "Responsibility For" and "Responsibility To."<br />
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<b>I am responsible <i>for</i> myself. </b>It is my responsibility to manage my own anxieties, self-regulate, and work on increasing my emotional maturity.<br />
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<b>I am responsible <i>to</i> others. </b>Because I am a member of a covenanted religious community, I am responsible to them, to share my time, talents, and treasure. As their minister, I have an additional set of responsibilities to them, chiefly, to care about their lives. To love them. I am not responsible <i>for</i> Live Oak, I am responsible <i>to</i> Live Oak.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4Kb6-fr3oBtiwB3pUlQRhUaUkYxBt9G3i0Po7uwvuBnKrItyEIaWe6u7QfwkMpQ5B4vEwF4X1BZV2v2YVK6Z2dqXKrTvV_RN9-qDhVn1I-hLhSs7eLdEYhYWdSfuftwTRXz-FbzS-U9Jb/s1600/corona-5153949_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4Kb6-fr3oBtiwB3pUlQRhUaUkYxBt9G3i0Po7uwvuBnKrItyEIaWe6u7QfwkMpQ5B4vEwF4X1BZV2v2YVK6Z2dqXKrTvV_RN9-qDhVn1I-hLhSs7eLdEYhYWdSfuftwTRXz-FbzS-U9Jb/s320/corona-5153949_1280.jpg" width="320" /></a><b>I am responsible <i>to</i> the larger community I'm a par</b><b>t of. </b>There are medical professionals, grocery workers, first responders, sanitation workers, and others who have taken on jobs that make them responsible to our larger community, which includes me. And so I am responsible to them, to limit the spread of coronavirus. I am responsible to them in other ways, too, to advocate for fair working conditions and wages.<br />
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<b>I am responsible to humankind and that intersects with my responsibility for myself.</b> Being responsible <i>for</i> myself means it is my responsibility to seek out the best scientific knowledge available and to keep up with what is happening in the world. Being responsible <i>to</i> humankind means not re-posting information that I haven't scrutinized for accuracy.<br />
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Because I am responsible to humankind, I am limiting my physical interactions with those outside my household, while increasing my social interactions online. Because I am responsible to humankind, I wear a mask if there's any chance I will be within 20 feet of someone outside my household. Because I am prioritizing decreasing the spread of coronavirus over my privacy concerns, I have downloaded the <a href="https://www.cmu.edu/mcs/news-events/2020/0417_novid-app.html">Novid App </a>and will use it when I leave my house.<br />
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<b>I am responsible <i>for</i> myself.</b><br />
<b>I am responsible <i>to</i> you.</b>Rev Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04495907966950426682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4284613682348841391.post-60841674274101527892020-05-26T07:00:00.000-05:002020-05-26T08:29:38.285-05:00A Time for CharacterThe graduating seniors of the College of Holy Cross had a surprise commencement speaker, Dr. Anthony Fauci, who urged them on: "I encourage you to stay strong and unflinching. The country and the world need your talent, your energy, your resolve, and your character."<br />
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It is a time for character. A time for every person to rise to the occasion, to bring their best selves forward.<br />
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I am a fan of the <a href="https://charactercounts.org/">Character Counts!</a> program, created by the Josephson Foundation for Ethics, which breaks down character into <a href="https://charactercounts.org/program-overview/six-pillars/">6 pillars</a>:<br />
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Trustworthiness<br />
Respect<br />
Responsibility<br />
Fairness<br />
Caring<br />
Citizenship<br />
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To be a person of character means that you have principles that guide the decisions you make about your life, even when it's inconvenient. Even when you don't want to. Even when it's hard. Even when it means sacrifice.<br />
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Around us are, sadly, many examples of people without character, people operating through selfishness, greed, and contempt for others.<br />
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But look around. There are many more operating with dignity, giving selflessly, and holding themselves to high ethical standards.<br />
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What does it mean to you to be a person of character? On social media? At the grocery store? In your home?<br />
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<br />Rev Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04495907966950426682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4284613682348841391.post-58684981589562494162020-05-25T07:00:00.000-05:002020-05-25T07:00:02.428-05:00The Need for Collective Mourning<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXxWkz78ED93RiWnVIRFAqLq50gRIkzTO7yZT6nsL7nmNqTtvhFspp7_vIq9LdK1zBIH3aEUTaxDJaI09SOKoImR4jCBPE6wyJAH8imVPbbc0T9i-0K9Xf0lx6RdvTfst9Il_dkwae7SC-/s1600/Screen+Shot+2020-05-24+at+9.07.30+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1052" data-original-width="584" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXxWkz78ED93RiWnVIRFAqLq50gRIkzTO7yZT6nsL7nmNqTtvhFspp7_vIq9LdK1zBIH3aEUTaxDJaI09SOKoImR4jCBPE6wyJAH8imVPbbc0T9i-0K9Xf0lx6RdvTfst9Il_dkwae7SC-/s400/Screen+Shot+2020-05-24+at+9.07.30+PM.png" width="221" /></a>I am profoundly grateful to the New York Times for their Sunday, May 24 front page. Under a headline reading, "U.S. DEATHS NEAR 100,000, AN INCALCULABLE LOSS," they listed the names of 1,000 of those individuals who have died of covid-19, with the age, where they lived, and a detail about them. <i>Maestro of a steel-pan band. Rocket engineer. Taught her girls sheepshead and canasta. </i><br />
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One of my clearest memories of 9-11 was watching on tv, the family members running from camera to camera, holding up pictures of their loved ones, pleading that someone look at the picture, and tell them the person was alive. I sobbed, over and over, and finally had to turn the tv off for a while. I remember, clearly, saying, "I just can't cry anymore."<br />
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It was right that we cried then, and right that we should cry now. This is a devastating loss of life. It is unnatural and inhuman to ignore the death toll, to not be affected. We should be weeping and burning candles. We should be promising the grieving families that we will try to be of comfort to them in some way, even if it is only to give them the knowledge that they are not crying alone.<br />
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I'm grateful to our local paper here, the Hill Country News. Whenever a blurb comes through their social media feed about another death in the county, the paper always expresses condolences for the family. Why aren't we seeing that same empathy from our elected leaders?<br />
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Those numbers we see are made up of real people. And their deaths diminish us. <i>"Each is a piece of the continent. A part of the main."</i><br />
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Our country is the lesser for their deaths. America has less music, less laughter, less richness because of their absence. What is worse than grief is to ignore the grief that we rightly should feel for this loss.<br />
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We are about to hit 100.000 confirmed covid-19 deaths. And I will begin wearing a black armband. For I am in mourning.<br />
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<br />Rev Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04495907966950426682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4284613682348841391.post-89007334242610161472020-05-22T07:00:00.000-05:002020-05-22T07:56:08.939-05:00How Are You Expressing Yourself?<div style="text-align: center;">
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How are you expressing yourself right now? How will you remember what this time was like, or share with others your memories?<br />
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I am a big fan of journaling in all its many forms. Blogging was, at a particularly difficult time in my life, a safe place. I kept a <a href="http://uuminister.blogspot.com/2006/01/journey-changes.html">blog under a pseudonym</a>, and for six years, it was where I could pour out all of my feelings without the need to be brave for those who knew me in real life. And though I wouldn't have thought it at the time, I'm glad I have all those thoughts and experiences written down where I can look back at them.<br />
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My grandparents and great-grandparents lived through so many things - the 1918 Pandemic, the Great Depression, WWII ... I would give anything to have even just a few notes they had written about what that was like. No need for poetry -- just the minutiae of everyday life. What did they eat? What were their biggest worries? What did they do for fun or distraction?<br />
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And you can just never tell what will happen once you begin expressing yourself. In my case, it led to so many real-life friendships I still have today. It led me to supportive colleagues and even the person who would later become my professional mentor.<br />
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Whether you blog, write long letters/emails to your grandchildren or friends, or keep a private journal, writing down what you're observing, experiencing, and feeling is healthy for you. There's something about seeing our words in print that helps us to make sense of the world around us. And right now, most of us need all the help we can get.<br />
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<br />Rev Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04495907966950426682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4284613682348841391.post-66836854296999262602020-05-21T07:00:00.000-05:002020-05-21T07:00:14.818-05:00Bringing Back Mocktail/Cocktail HourAs you consider the <a href="http://bootsandblessings.blogspot.com/2020/05/a-thoughtful-consistency.html">routines</a> that will make this time of pandemic a little more pleasant, how about cocktail hour?<br />
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I grew up with parents who always observed the ritual, whether it was a glass of cold tea or their favorite Canadian whiskey and seltzer. The drink wasn't important, it was their time to catch up with each other and share the details of their day. Weather-permitting, they'd sit outside on the deck my dad built, talk and decompress from the day before heading inside for dinner. Retired, they continued the tradition (though it often came earlier -- "Time for our 4 o'clock," they'd say.)<br />
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We've begun having this at our house. It serves as a boundary between the school/workday and home time. Kids and parents, we sit out on our patio with our drinks of choice and a little bit of a salty snack. Conversations just naturally happen when we're not in front of the tv or other screens. Being all together in one house (which makes it all too easy to interrupt each other when we're working), we've even started holding on to chat topics during the day, saving them for the evening. Even the dog joins us, as she quickly learned that it often means a stray chip will be tossed to her.<br />
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I think it's helped us stay a little more connected with our reality, too. There's the overarching reality we have to face: we are, literally, in the midst of a global pandemic that requires us to curtail much of our normal life to help protect the lives of ourselves and others.<br />
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But cocktail hour lets us get in touch with the other reality. That right now, we are not sick. We are together. We can enjoy things. Things like a cold drink, a salty snack, and chatting about our day.<br />
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<br />Rev Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04495907966950426682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4284613682348841391.post-61986608289429306872020-05-20T07:00:00.000-05:002020-05-20T07:00:01.860-05:00Get Up Offa That Thing! Does Quarantine have you sitting in one place for hours at a time ... Get up! Move!<br />
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One of my congregants reminded us in stark terms how important this is. Her husband was busy working from home, as so many of us are. She posted last week that he was "in the hospital overnight as he got a large clot in his leg as well as several lung clots (2 pulmonary embolisms too) from sitting 8-10 hours a day." She urged everyone -- get up every hour! Move around!
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Even if you're not sitting at a desk all day, we all need movement of some sort. Most of us are avoiding going out in public, which means that our need to be active may have slipped down the priority list. And we're not moving in the ordinary ways we were accustomed to - my kids aren't walking from class to class, spouse isn't walking up and down the aisles of the store, I'm not wandering the grounds of the church, to ask the Rabbi down the hall a question or to find answers out on the labyrinth.<br />
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So, how can you bring movement back into your routine?<br />
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Good old fashioned walks are good, especially if you're avoiding other people and wearing a mask. Here in Texas, I know that the oven we call "summer" is fast approaching, so I'm looking for other ways to move.<br />
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Guess what? The internet has been invented!<br />
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Another of my congregants is a tap dancer, and reports that her tap-dancing classes have continued - via zoom! Want to support a local business while still isolating? Call up a local dance class and see if they're doing Zoom classes. Or search youtube for dance or exercise lessons.<br />
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Having kids or being willing to admit to having a fun-loving spirit means you may already have a video game system. If you don't maybe now is a good time to consider it, especially if you choose one that integrates with real physical activity. (Just google "exercise" and "game console" to get reviews and articles.) We have one that allows us to play as a family with boxing, beach volleyball, and more. Don't forget to put on some decent shoes, as my shin splints will warn you!<br />
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And if you are just tired of the internet and screens of all types ... do what people have been doing since the start of time. Dance! Close your drapes if you're self-conscious, put on your favorite music, and dance like no one is watching. Or dance like the world is watching, if that's what motivates you.<br />
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The other reason for moving? You'll feel better. There's tons of research about how even moderate movement, like arm exercises, lift your mood and sharpen your mind. But for me, I'll take the advice of renowned expert, James Brown:<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Get up offa that thing </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>And dance 'till you feel better!</b></span></div>
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Rev Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04495907966950426682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4284613682348841391.post-68035882909778081042020-05-19T07:00:00.000-05:002020-05-19T07:00:04.872-05:00Now Might Be a Good Time to Try MeditatingHow's your head these days? Are you clear, focused? Light in spirit? Centered? <div>
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Yeah, me neither. </div>
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My meditation routine had already slipped to the bottom of my priority list before quarantine began. I was trying to get everything done in preparation for going on sabbatical. And on my sabbatical, I would have plenty of time to get back in the routine. </div>
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(In retrospect, planning on go on sabbatical beginning April 1 - who does that??? I was just asking the universe to prank me. I mean, a worldwide pandemic seems a little extreme, but then, I did pull a lot of April Fools jokes in my life. Perhaps it was to be expected.) </div>
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Best time to meditate? On sabbatical. </div>
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<b>Second best time to meditate? </b>While in quarantine for a worldwide sabbatical, the length of which remains undetermined. </div>
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My friend M posted a graphic that sums up why all of us -- even non-meditators -- might want to give it a try these days: </div>
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I am no expert in meditating, so if you're interested in it in a serious way, join a meditation group where you'll find experienced practitioners. Our church's meditation group is now meeting online, and I bet others are, too. </div>
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But meditation is one of those things that you don't have to be great at to get something from it. It's a time to let the constant swirling of your mind settle down. One of the most helpful metaphors I've found was shared with me last summer at "The Point" (Southern UU summer camp for families) by the Rev. Aaron White. </div>
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He said to imagine that you've got a jar full of muddy water. You're walking around with that jar all the time, constantly shaking it. (Seriously, this is exactly what my brain feels like these days.) But if you set the jar down on the counter and let it just sit there, still, the mud begins sinking to the bottom. And the water on top grows clear. </div>
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Give it a try. Sit somewhere comfortable, maybe set a timer so you don't have to wonder about how long it's been. Start small. 10 minutes. Imagine the jar of water, and the dirt settling to the bottom. Breathe. Your poor brain is working so hard right now, trying to make sense of this, trying to figure out how to keep putting one foot in front of the other. If you're anything like me, you've probably been stuffing information in it, one article after another. And even when you're asleep, it's working, churning. </div>
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Give your brain a rest. Try meditation. </div>
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Rev Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04495907966950426682noreply@blogger.com0