Fighting through the clutter to find meditation

Three days ago, I rebooted my meditation practise after years of neglect.

I knew how much it mattered. What a difference it makes. And yet, I let it slip until it was just a distant memory of what I "used to do."

Three days ago, that changed. For the first time in years, I sat down and rediscovered why I used to meditate. And it was wonderful. That day. And then the next.

But then today, reality hit -- hard. At first, nothing was different.  I sat down and closed my eyes. I crossed my legs into a lotus and linked my thumb and finger.

The usual stream of thoughts came by, and I acknowledged them and went back to counting breaths. That was when the baggage replaced the stream. Suddenly, my mind was a discordant cacophony of every bad decision I ever made. Every time I behaved badly or spoke without thinking. Every time I let someone down. It felt like I was getting slammed up against the proverbial wall by everything I had ever done wrong. I felt like the worst person on the planet.

I struggled to regain control of my meditation. I counted...or tried to. I  visualzed each number being written on a blackboard, a technique that has worked in the past to get me back on track.

And then, thank goodness, it finally stopped. Or at least that deep dive into the worst of my past stopped. Immediately,a new stream of negativity started. It was the to-do lists. The chores. The job hunt. The projects. The clients. All the should's and have-to's. All the things I OUGHT to be doing right at that moment instead of sitting and meditating. Again, awful!

But I stayed with it. I kept trying to count. I tried to acknowledge and let each thought go by. Nothing worked. Nothing!

Until... I started  to focus on the here and now...the feeling of the breeze. The sound of the cat walking past. The sensation of sitting.

And then it happened. All the negativity stoppped. Just as suddenly as the bombardment started, It stopped.

Whatever it was in me that needed to dredge up all of that ugly dirt and guilt gave up. The peace returned. Thoughts still came by, but they were gentle and random, and quickly moved past. I was not stuck in the past. I was not trying to manage the future. I just was. Finally.

And THAT, that moment of now-ness is the reason I have come back to meditation. The bad stuff can happen only any day. It can happen while you're driving down the road or drifting off to sleep or just watching TV.  It can happen when someone says the wrong thing, or brings up an old hurt.

But the good? Yeah, that's something only meditation can deliver. And I'm so glad to be back.

Post holiday lessons keep coming

Those of you who are Jewish know that we just completed the High Holidays.  Those who aren't Jewish might not know, or at least, might not know that this season of the year is about self-reflection, inner review and a determination to do things better in the coming year.

I had a particularly meaningful Yom Kippur (Day of Atonement) this year, so it shouldn't surprise me that the lessons that go along with it just keep coming.

Today's piece showed up in my e-mail inbox, in a post from a site called Tiny Buddha.  Here's a little bit of what it said...

Finances, relationships, responsibilities, and life in general can certainly create a great deal of noise in our heads. However, if we truly want to feel inner peace, we must take the time to learn to be mindful instead of mind full. This, and only this, will allow us to respond to life instead of reacting to it.

I have tons of happy memories from my childhood and a few harsh ones too. Unfortunately, the harsh memories are those that we replay over and over again, until we heal them. A difficult memory that stuck with me for a very long time was my mother’s pattern of despair.

She would appear agitated or frustrated about something and soon after she would yell, “One of these days, you’ll come home and you’re not going to find me!” (There’s still a part of me that shudders a bit when I hear those words.)

As a child, this was a clear sign that my mom was angry about something and if I didn’t hurry up and make it better, she just might leave. (Read more....)

I immediately stopped there. In my head, I heard my own mother's voice making similar threats whenever I upset her or any number of other things upset her. But my mom's threat wasn't exactly the same...it was to die. She spent her life facing a huge number of illnesses, some of her own making and some not, but she used those sicknesses as a weapon to express her anger.

My mom passed away in 2011, in large part because she refused any treatment that would have kept her alive and functional. She had finally made good on her threat to die.

Like the author of the post, I too had to reach the understanding that her anger and her threats weren't really about me. She had had a rough childhood, filled with loss and probably neglect. She had some very real health challenges. But this brilliant woman (and I do mean seriously brilliant) didn't have the ability/interest/skills/desire to channel her anger appropriately. She lashed out at her children, her husband, her neighbors as a reaction to any kind of frustration or fear or upset. She alienated almost everyone who should have mattered to her in the process, and she died without her children or friends or any family except my dad around (her choice.)

I have lived my entire adult life in terror of becoming my mother. I asked friends, family, even a therapist if I was like her. They assured me I was not. I sought out other role models for being a mom (mostly from my LDS friends who, thank goodness, were more than willing and able to model healthy family life for me.)

I embraced  the influence of spirituality and family heritage that she had rejected, and have used it to help me find deeper meaning in life. I have tried to find peace with her since her passing, focusing on the few good memories, and offering my hopes that she is now at peace herself, free from the demons that fueled her anger.

But...since moving to Texas last year, I have seen some aspects of that reacting in myself. I am unhappy here.  I am lonely and lately, not feeling well, as I deal with what seems to be an intense allergy to the place  (I can't remember the last day I didn't wake up stuffy and coughing.) And I am homesick for Florida.

Unfortunately, that unhappiness has spilled over into some angry reactions. I thought a lot about this during Yom Kippur. But it was Vicki Savini's article that crystallized exactly what was  happening, and reminded me what to do about it. And why it matters so much that I do work on it.

I will never be perfect.  No one will, and even the greatest saints sometimes mess up and get angry when they should step away and breathe. But I want to do better at responding instead of reacting. I want to incorporate that stepping away and breathing and finding the source of my feelings instead of just reacting.

I have no idea whether the message in my inbox arrived at just the right time to help me with what I was already feeling, or if the feeling made me more aware of the message.  And it doesn't really matter. I am just grateful for the synchronicity.

______________________________________________

Image via http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Buddha_in_garden.jpg

Do you have stories of synchronicity to share?  I would love to hear them! 

The dance of every day life

I was leaving Panera this morning, my glass of half-iced-tea-and-half-seltzer in hand (yes, it is strange, I know!), when someone in front of me held the door for just an instant until I could reach out at hold it myself.  A common gesture.  One we do, or experience every day.

But today, the movement and the grace of that single act caught my eye.  Un -choreographed, unplanned.  It was a pas de deux between two strangers, but in its own way, as elegant and graceful as a moment in any ballet.

That instant, I realized that there is a dance of every day life.

I started to think about other examples....the cars moving among one another on the highway.  The way a family works together in the kitchen moving around one another, as they prepare dinner or do the washing up.  We move in and out, step around, turn and reach.  There is a beauty in that interaction, that interweaving of motion that we (or at least I) have missed until now.

When you go about your day tomorrow, pay attention to the dance.  It's there.  Notice the effortless way in which we move around one another, the ways our movements connect and separate.

See the dance.

Inside the G-d Box

This morning, as I sat outside sipping my tea and getting ready for my day at work, I came across an article in Real Simple magazine called "Inside the G-d Box"

The author of the article, Mary Lou Quinlan, described her mom's way of dealing with questions, problems, and concerns by writing down a simple note to G-d on whatever paper was handy, and dropping it into what she called her G-d box.  By the end of the article, I had tears in my eyes.  This simple practice had allowed her mom to deal with issues big and small, by asking and then leaving the results in G-d's hands.  So simple, and yet so powerful.

In the light of my current concerns and issues, I think this message came at the perfect time.  It's time for a G-d box of my own.

I'd encourage you to click through to the full article...it's well worth the read.

The divine sparks are everywhere.....

Light plays a critical role in almost every religion. Light as energy, light as G-d (or Goddess), light as renewal or hope....

Candles, stories of light, prayers for divine light exist in almost every faith.

According to one of Judaism's great mystical Rabbis, when G-d was creating the universe, the process began with vessels filled with some of G-d's own divine light.  But the vessels could not contain such powerful light (what COULD contain G-d, really?) and the vessels shattered.  Shards of divine light spread throughout the universe, and became a part of every thing -- people, animals, plants, even inanimate things likes rocks.  So in everything we see/touch/breathe there is a bit of G-d's light.

I love that story.  It mirrors the interconnectedness of all things in Buddhism, as well as the many faces and aspects of G-d in Hinduism. It reflects the all-reaching light of the Goddess, and the all-encompassing touch of Mother Earth from Wiccan and Native American beliefs. And that should come as no surprise...surely the light which reaches all things, has been felt and seen by all beings at some point in time.

Every where and every thing G-d's light. She/He is the light. Within and without.

Nowhere and Now Here...

Love and Light to you all.  Namaste. Shabbat Shalom.

Yom Kippur Meditations

Silence your mumblings –

the dry, dead words only turn to dust on your tongue.

Take off your bright, stiff clothes and

wrap yourself in soft white cotton robes.

Leave behind the cool rooms and chairs and benches –

spread a blanket on the ground and look up at the sky

instead.

Breathe.

G-d is here.

Silence the noise.

Can you hear the gates closing now?

There is still time.

Close your books, and let your prayers come from your

Heart

Pain

Joy

Sorrow

Regret

Need

G-d is here and the gates are still open.

There is so little time.

Close your books and leave your rooms behind.

G-d is here.

Lindsay Shugerman

Yom Kippur 5771

Peace to us all for Pink Saturday....

Clockwise, from wind chimes: Wiccan beltane, Buddhist nuns, Muslim girl in hijab, Christian Minister, Hindu bride, Jewish woman in Tallit

We're all in this together, this thing we call life.

Most of us want the same things.  Peace.  A healthy and happy family.  Good kids.  A warm, dry and safe place to live. Enough food on the table. Love. A chance to worship as we believe is right.  We are all so much the same. And yet so wonderfully different.

It really doesn't matter whether we put on a hijab or a tallit or a robe...and when it comes down to it, it doesn't matter how we address the Creator, whether in words or song or one name or another.  Our paths are different, but the mountain top is the same one.  We have just been placed on different roads to get there.

Today, on this anniversary of an act of hate, carried out by a few individuals, let's spend time remembering that we all...

Cry
Laugh
Sing
Smile
Grow
Love

If someone else's customs seem strange, ask questions.  If their words sound foreign to your ear, listen with your heart.  If they look different, ignore their clothes or their skin colour and look at their eyes. You'll recognize the kinship there.

And the next time you're tempted to say "They all..." about another religion -- or you feel that it might be better to remain silent when someone else heads that way -- remember that it's your sister or your brother who is being hated. And speak up, in love, for peace, for every member of our human family.

A joyous and peaceful September 11th Pink Saturday to you all.

Hamsa - Five - Celebrating 5 months of marriage and my husband's birthday

Our hats on the hotel windowsill the morning after the wedding

 Today we are celebrating five months of marriage.  And at the same time, we are celebrating my husband's birthday -- there is also a 5 in his age.  And the date: 8/21/2010, if you add it up, 8+2+1+2+1=14, and 1+ 4 = 5 .

The coincidence occurred to me as I was thinking about the five months since our wedding day. And buying his birthday present. (It's amazing what runs through my mind when I'm standing in line! Sometimes I do calculus equations -- this time it was numerology. Oh well!)

Now, I am not a big fan of numerology, but that synchronicity caught my attention. Could it be just an accident?  It seems, even to the number skeptic (me!) that that is even more unlikely.

So I started thinking about the number five.  I wear a piece of Judaic/Islamic jewelry called a Hamsah.  It is a common religious symbol in the Middle East and North Africa, but in all of them, it represents protection and good fortune.  Some call it the Hand of Miriam, some call it the Hand of Fatima.  I've even heard it called the Hand of G-d.  But whatever the name, the symmetrical five finger-arrangement makes it distinctive.  In fact, the word "Hamsah" means five in Arabic.  So why is this symbol of five considered so powerful?

The Zohar, the classic work of Jewish mysticism and esoteric knowledge, has numerous mentions of powerful fives, including the five gates of salvation.  Kabbalist Rabbi Issac Luria wrote about the "... five souls, Nefesh ("Spirit"), Ru'ach ("Wind"), Neshamah ("Soul"), 
Chayah ("Life"), and Yechidah ("Singular"); the first of these being the lowest, and the last the highest. (Source: Etz Chayim)" .The Torah itself consists of Five Books of Moses. 

And Islamic practice is based upon Five Pillars.  Shahadah, a statement professing monotheism and accepting Muhammad as one of G-d's messengers. Salah, the daily prayer  which is made five times each day (another five.) Zakat, or charitable giving.  Sawm, or fasting, especially during the approximately 30 day period known as Ramadan.  And Hajj, which is a pilgrimage to Mecca.

There are also Five Precepts of the Buddha Gautama in the Theravada (mainly southeast and south Asia) and Mahayana (in China, Korea, and Japan) traditions. The Five Precepts are promises to abstain from killing, stealing, sexual misconduct, lying and intoxication.

I'm sure there are more, in other religions and cultures.  But the powerful presence of these major five, along with the fives in our life today feel like a great opportunity. I'm not sure how or what form it might take, but the message is too clear to ignore. 

For my husband on his birthday, and for the two of us on this five month anniversary, it's going to be a very special day. 

Happy Pink Saturday, everyone! 

Levels of awareness, levels of mindfulness

The next time you're about to bite into a big juicy apple, like the Granny Smith I have sitting next to my keyboard, stop for a minute or two and consider exactly how that apple got to you.

The first answer might be, I went to the grocery store and bought it. End of story.

But the fact is, it's not! In fact, it's only a tiny and incomplete picture out of the story.

Start from where you are. You bought the apple. But where did the apple come from, before it was on the shelf at your local Giant or Publix or Smiths or wherever you shop?  Someone had to put the apple on display.  Someone had to deliver the apples to the store.  Probably someone had to box up the apples -- for sure, someone had to pick them.

And then there's the farmer.  He or she tended the trees, maybe even planted them from the start.  They had to make sure the trees had everything they needed to grow. Their lives are devoted to growing food for other people to eat!  How cool is that?  And how often do we think about it?

And then there's G-d or nature or Mother Earth, whatever you call it, which provided the water and the soil and the seeds and the sunshine.  And the fact that this apple, and in fact, the entire apple tree, came from a tiny seed -- one just like the one in the apple in your hand.  A seed someone, somewhere did plant, to grow the tree, that grew your apple. And the incredibly, miraculous fact that in that tiny seed are all the instructions for growing a tree, including the leaves and the branches -- as well as everything needed to know how to produce an apple!  All of that in a SEED!  Think of the size of the computer memory that would be needed to handle that level of complexity!

Now to the apple, itself....

And look at the apple itself.  The color...mine is a lovely bright green, about the size of my palm. On the top, the last vestige of its connection to the tree that it came from -- much like an umbilical cord. From seed to tree to my hand. Connected.

I slice open the apple -- the sound is crunch and juicy, the smell of tart apple is all around me. I take a bite.  Sweet-tart.  Very juicy. Firm and crispy.

And here is where the concept in Judaism of a bracha (blessing) comes from.  It's also the core of Buddhist mindfulness. If we pay this kind of attention to an apple, and feel gratitude for all that went into the creation of and arrival of that apple in your hand, one cannot help but want to say a blessing.

Some people say formulaic blessings, one for each kind of food like fruits, dairy, etc.  But I think that runs the risk of making the blessing as rote as the eating often becomes. There are even little booklets of the "official" blessings (I have one) that contain endless lists of foods and the sanctioned blessing for each.

I would rather create my own.  Silently.  A heartfelt connection to the food I'm eating.  No, I do not do it at every meal, or heaven forbid, at every bite as a very over-zealous acquaintance once suggested.  But I do it often enough to keep myself aware that even the apple I bough an hour ago at the grocery store represents a long chain of events and choices before it reaches me. That mindfulness, and the wonder and gratitude that goes along with it, is my bracha.

That certain sunrise....

Sunrise on Deerfield Beach, Florida

There is a certain, almost magical look to sunrise on a beach.  It feels, for a moment or two, that anything is possible...any dream can come true, any mistake can be corrected, any pain can be overcome. 

As I watch the sky being painted in light and breathtaking swirls of pastel pinks and blues and lavenders, it seems that even a whispered word is too loud, too out of place.  Even more so than in a synagogue or church, I feel that saying anything out loud would be sacrilegious. It feels as though I am being given a glimpse into the very process of creation -- a view through G-d's eyes at all the world was meant to be. 

Over the years, sunrises on the beach have been times and places for special moments.  I said goodbye to dear friend one sunrise on a beach a little south of here.  We sat in silence, and watched as the light crept in, the colours and patterns of the morning clouds created before our eyes. We always planned to get together again someday...now years later, it has never happened. A goodbye sealed on a sunrise beach is a forever kind of farewell. I think we both knew that then, but neither of us said it. 

I've sat on sunrise beaches alone, crying for a lost dream.  And I've walked along sunrise beaches with my heart singing in joy and hope and excitement.  I've seen them alone, and with dear friends and family members.  Each time, the experience has been something unique and meaningful  You can't take sunrise on a beach for granted...it won't let you. 

The pictures on this post were taken on a breezy December morning as I sat on the beach in Deerfield Beach, an area just north of Fort Lauderdale.  Except for the one lone soul walking along the water's edge (just visible in one shot), I was alone.  It was a morning of "anything is possible" and all is right with the world. It was a perfect winter sunrise. 

I just joined a meditation and yoga group that meets once a week at sunrise on the beach. I'm excited about the prospect of greeting the sunrise with mindfulness and spirit. Whatever I see and feel there next week, I know it will be something special.  The sunrise would not have it any other way. 

(Posted in honor of Pink Saturday) 

Mindful watching

One of my goals -- one of my spiritual goals -- was to be more mindful.  To really be in the moment.  And as the universe seems to behave, I got some help on that front almost as soon as the decision was made.

On Sunday, our Temple had an open house.  And as I was browsing in the gift shop there, I saw a book that seemed to demand that I take it off the shelf...it's called The Busy Soul, and it offers targeted meditations, prayers and exercises for each season of the year.  I opened to the summer section, and what did I see? A section about focusing on the here and now!  Mindfulness!

So this morning, I sat for half an hour at my favourite Panera Bread, and I just was.  Just like the title of another favourite book, Don't Just Do Something, Sit There: A Mindfulness Retreat with Sylvia Boorstein, I just sat and looked and listened.

The sky this morning in the Sunshine State was pewter grey. But unlike some grey days, the deep silvery color served to highlight and illuminate the hundreds of shades of green in the trees and bushes and grass.  Everything was glowing with color.

I sat there, at my table under the overhang, just out of reach of the light drizzle, and watched the deep green fronds of a palm tree move in the breeze.  I had forgotten how graceful their movement could be. How long had it been since I had really looked...watched...allowed my mind to really SEE the trees? Months?  Years? I was entranced.

When I was a child growing up down here, I used to sit on my parents' patio and do this kind of mindful watching, as the trees by the water swayed and danced in the wind. After awhile, I could feel their movement, as though my body was a part of that wild movement.  I could feel the wind's strength as it invisibly pushed big branches from side to side, or even in frenzied circles.  I didn't call it mindfulness then.  I had never heard the word.  I just loved feeling as though I was one with the trees.

I guess I wasn't a normal child -- those minutes or hours I spent watching the trees on windy days were more interesting to me than whatever might have been on TV.  It was an experience I didn't share with anyone for years -- and then it was greeted with looks of ....uncomfortableness.  No one seemed to understand. So I stopped telling, and eventually, stopped doing.

From time to time over the years, I've spent a few minutes connecting with the movement of the wind and the trees.  But I can't remember when the last time was.  Until today.  And the magic is still there.

The Moshiach is an old black woman

I was feeling kind of dispirited on my way to work today.  Nothing bad, just kind of ...blah. I am long, long overdue for some down time, and I think it's catching up with me.

As I waited at a corner to make a turn, I saw an older, dark-skinned woman waving her arms and shouting on the opposite corner.  I rolled my window down, turned off the stereo, and listened.  She was shouting with joy about G-d.  Just G-d.  Not any particular creed or version or approach.  And she was chiding people for not shouting with joy themselves.  In her heavy Haitian accent, and with arms flying, she shouted that people should not be saying "Hallelujah" with their faces in a frown, and their eyes looking down, arms hanging.  They should not be praying in muttered words and dour tones. They should be shouting to the skies and to the whole world, arms up and a big smile on their faces.  Dancing! Singing!  Sharing their happiness for the whole universe to see.

She's right! The reality of G-d should be joy!  How could it be otherwise when we have butterflies and new-born babies and fluffy white clouds in blue summer skies and autumn leaves and snowy winter sunrises? Why do we pray and sing and worship with a tone and a demeanor better suited to mourning than celebrating?

There is a concept in Judaism that someday, when G-d decides the time is right, a Moshiach will appear.  A person who will set the world right, lead us into a time of peace -- a return to the Garden.  Popular discussions around the idea concern whether "he" will be a military leader or a politician or a religious leader.

I would like to suggest a different idea...I think the Moshiah will be an old black woman, shouting for joy about G-d on a street corner.  She will, in her excitement and happiness and sheer delight in all that G-d is, be the one who can finally, finally, finally set us right.

So here is my song for this Shabbat...a traditional song, performed the way we should! With joy!!!

Dream house? Why not?

The other day, I posted a link to my dream house on my Facebook wall. It's a beautiful home in Boulder. The view?  Well, you can see the view.  Perfect. Just perfect.

So why did I post it?  It's not that I have $2 million in the bank, and can buy it today.  I posted it because I could at some point, have 2 million in the bank.  Or 10 million. Who knows? I posted it because it's good to dream, and to remind ourselves what it is we dream about.

It's so easy to get caught up in the day to day, focusing only on meetings at work, the grocery shopping list and what the kids need to do for homework.  Days, weeks, months or even years can pass by without us lifting up our heads (or our hearts) long enough to look at where we're going in life -- or remembering where we want to go. Some people forget their dreams for decades, only to realize one day, maybe when this life is almost over, what they once wanted to do and be but never got around to trying.

So here is my challenge for you today.  Take some time and think about something you want.  Something you dreamed about.  Make it a big dream. It could be a trip you wanted to take.  A degree you wanted to complete. Or a house on a mountain side you wanted to own. Find a picture that represents your dream, and post it somewhere.  On your wall, your door, your bulletin board or your Facebook wall. Tell the world what you dream about.  And then -- and here is the really important part -- tell yourself about it. Feel it. Dream it. Make it real, and see it happening.  Dare to challenge the universe -- and yourself -- to make it happen.

Dreams do come true.  But first you have to have the dream.  Happy dreaming!

Be open to the questions, be wary of getting stuck in details

I just read an amazing post suggested by one of my Facebook friends.  Rabbi Yossi's article, Facing the light - behaalosecha is printing right now so I can think more about it tomorrow on Shabbat. This is not a "glance at it for a couple of minutes before I run out the door" post. So I want to do it justice.  But I also wanted to share it before Shabbat, in case anyone else wants to print it now and read it tomorrow.

I cannot summarize it yet...there is too much, but here are a few points that have my thoughts occupied...

Instead of searching for complete truth and revelation, people the world over revere small bits and pieces of truth and hold them sacred. This closes them off from discovery of truths that exist beyond their limited space. The strength of their attachments often prevents them from letting go of superfluous behaviors and beliefs that limit their connection to the larger universal order.

and

My grandfather told me that the main thing is the question, not the answer. Questions cause us to search in places where we may not have checked previously to find answers. This enables us to be open to what we may not have thought about or understood prior to searching. Easy “pat” answers pacify us and discourage us from searching further to find the truth.  

Don't just stop with those two...there is so much more.  Shabbat shalom :-)

Prayer as performance or connection?

The subject of prayer came up the other day. Someone commented that because I never seem to set aside time for regular, visible prayer, they concluded that I do not pray. The fact is I pray throughout the day, but silently. I pray in gratitude, in awe, in need and just to connect, for lack of a better word.

Then this morning, I read a section in the book "The Seventh Telling" by Mitchell Chefitz (excellent book BTW. I HIGHLY recommend it!) The characters were talking about formal prayer.

We have this little disagreement about vocabulary. It's not that I don't appreciate prayer, but for me prayer is a cultural thing. It can be beautiful, even meaningful. But it's performance. It's not something that works. At best, it entertains and makes you feel good.

And that got me thinking. Who is prayer for? Formal prayer or informal prayer? Who or what is the intended "audience?"

Some people I know who pray out loud and only in specific words and often in specific places, say that prayer is to remind them of G-d. And to remind them to do (or not do) certain things. Others have said that such prayer is mandated by G-d, and that to not use the standard words or forms is to violate the guidelines G-d set down.

And if you are among those, please forgive me for what I am about to say. If it is for you, or for G-d, why is it out loud and obvious? Surely, G-d has no need to "hear" audible words. S/he can "hear" our silent petitions and thoughts of wonder and or need. And we ourselves can express our thoughts, needs, hopes, feelings, gratitude to G-d silently, and still be as aware we are doing it.

And whether prayer is for the petitioner or for G-d, wouldn't sincere words from a person's heart and soul, spoken or silent, be far more meaningful than canned text written by someone else years, centuries or thousands of years ago?

Isn't there a certain element of ego in praying so that others can see and hear that you are praying? At least a bit of "See, I'm religious. See?"

Your thoughts?

G-d laws, people's laws

The girl's name Tara \t(a)-ra\ is pronounced TAH-rah. It is of Gaelic and Sanskrit origin, and its meaning is "hill; star". Ancient Tara was the site of the "stone of destiny" on which Irish kings resided

Last night, I dreamed that I was in a big building, like an airplane hanger. The doors were open wide, and the room was empty except for a small Lucite cube in the middle of the room. I was there with someone named Tara.

She pointed to the box, a crystal clear square, about 2 feet across (so about 8 cubic feet in volume, so quite small in such a large and essentially open air space) and said "These are man's laws."

Then she gestured around us, and said. "These are G-d's laws."

There was nothing else to the dream that I recall, but the image and the words are fresh in my mind. So what does it mean?

So often, we think of G-d's laws as something we must contain within a box...a structure, a set of walls or a book. And the rules and laws of people surround the true core -- so we strive to protect G-d's laws from human changes. We build up lists of rules and fences and such, in a belief that we as people must DO something.

But this dream was saying quite the opposite. G-d's laws require little structure or containment. Yes, the hanger offered a roof, but it was far, far above. And with the big doors open, there was little enclosure. Almost none, in fact. They simply "are." Everywhere.

And G-d's laws were safe, not because we boxed in G-d, but because G-d's laws surrounded and contained and so completely outdid whatever little man tried to do. All our fuss was little more than a small box in the middle of a vast and open space.

I looked up the meaning of the name Tara...the site of the "stone of destiny." I don't know anyone named Tara...so the meaning intrigues me. My destiny? Or just a coincidence?

Another meaning was also suggested, since I heard rather than saw the name: Terra.

The girl's name Terra \t(er)-ra\ is pronounced TARE-ah. It is of Latin origin, and its meaning is "Earth". Mythology: the Roman earth goddess, equivalent to the Greek Gaia.

My experience of the creator is solidly female. Mother Earth. The Creator as the birth-giver/life-giver. Terra or Tara...I am captured by this dream.

Any thoughts?

The view from the air

As I was answering a heartfelt e-mail last night, I had a sudden thought.

What if we could see our lives from the air? What if, instead of a mass of incomprehensible twists and turns and detours, we could take off in our spiritual Piper Cub, and look down on the pattern from above?

What would we think of the pattern?

Would we be able to see where we took the wrong fork in the road, and know which way to turn around once we landed? Would we see the bright fields of flowers we've left in our wake, even though we never knew we were sowing the seeds?

Is it possible that we would see that that some of the "mistakes" we thought we made actually protected us from something worse? Would we see where other people's paths cross our own, and our path intersects theirs?

What would it be like to see the picture we're creating with our lives?

Contrast

After days of scorching dry heat and blindly bright sun, I woke up to steely grey skies this morning.

The palm tree fronds are sage tinted in this light, and the air is heavy with the rain that will soon follow. A welcome change.

The contrast is beautiful.

I slept only a few hours last night, but I slept well...happy. Content. A contrast to months earlier when the few hours sleep I got were punctuated with bad dreams and suddenly moments of panicked awakening.

And I realized that it is the change from one experience to another that's making the sweet moments so sweet. The contrast from sunshine to shade. From pain and despair to happiness and hope.

The Rabbi teaching my class recently explained that there are two kinds of miracles in the world. One, easy to recognize, is when G-d steps in and makes something big happen. An against-all-odds recovery, or an unexplainable moment where the inevitable is somehow pushed aside.

But then there are all the other miracles that we call daily life. A rainbow. Food growing in a field. A rainstorm. Things we could and do easily overlook as "just normal." The purpose of study, and of the brachas (blessings) is to make us aware of how all of life is actually a series of miracles. Since we learned that, I have been struck by the miraculous among the mundane.

Today I awoke to another aspect of that. The miracle of contrast. The gift of appreciation we receive when we move from sadness or fear to joy. And even more telling, how sometimes even the move from what looks brighter (sunshine) to an impending storm can be a cause for prayers of thanks.

Instant recognition

There are moments in life when we recognize something immediately....

An opportunity
A danger sign
A new idea that will solve an old problem
A person we just met but already know
Home, in a place where we may have only just arrived

Where do they come from?

Some people call them insights...seeing inside, literally. It's as though we somehow pierce the outer shell and for an instant, see the essence.

Some call it inspiration...a word which means "breathed upon,", as in breathed upon by G-d. For that moment, we are graced with the divine gift of G-d's life-giving breath.

Sometimes our recognition gets buried under a mountain of expectations and old habits. The new and wonderful doesn't look like we expected, so we discard it and go on looking for what we thought truth (or beauty or love or home) SHOULD look like.

Sometimes we are so afraid of the intensity of this sudden breath or vision that we intellectualize it, analyze it. Kill it with living too much in our heads and not enough in our hearts.

And sometimes we just wait too long, thinking that such moments of grace can be put on hold until a more convenient time. Unattended, they vanish, so we convince ourselves that they were never really there in the first place.

Instead of all that, how wonderful it would be to live ALWAYS open to those moments. Always ready to receive that breath of the divine, that glimpse into the inner truth.

(Image from Soulbreath Pictures)

So where does a non-Christian minister belong?

I am a Jew.

I am seriously drawn to Islam.

And I am an ordained non-denominational minister.

Who wants to be a minister. In practice.

No, let me correct that, not "who wants". Who feels incredibly drawn towards being a minister. I identify completely with the books I read about people who have felt and acted upon that kind of calling. I am fascinated in conversation with clerics of all faiths. I am drawn, irresistibly to the preaching, visiting the sick, performing life cycle events. Serving G-d in a very specific way.

But I have no interest in Christianity. Just G-d. The ONE.

So where do I go with this?

A spiritual conundrum...