Dealing with this Pain

Dear White, CIS-gender Men:

Whoever you voted for, and even if you are horrified by this election as I am, there is something you need to understand.

The pain that women, people of color, non-Christians, immigrants, LGTBQ people, and others who have been discriminated against, marginalized, threatened, attacked, and otherwise disenfranchised over time is real.  The emotion is real.  We are hurting, not just for ourselves, but for our friends, and for our brothers, sisters, and children of all races, creeds, and gender orientation, and for the world.  We fear for all of them, we hurt for all of them.

To some of us, the results of this election mean that the country we love and have contributed to in so many positive ways has turned its back on us.  These results tell us we don't matter; that is it better to be a white, heterosexual, Christian man - even a racist, misogynistic, lying selfish bully of a white man - than to be anyone or anything else.

Please hear this.  Please hear that if you love and care for us, do not "mansplain" to us the reasons this happened; do not try to rationalize it; do not patronize us by saying it will be o.k.; that it's not a big deal.  Do not say we are overreacting; that we are being "too emotional;" do not try to comfort us with meaningless platitudes - even though may think you are helping. Don't tell us to "get over it," or make "helpful suggestions" about how we can deal with our pain; and don't marginalize us further by denying it.  Because when you do that, it tells us that we - and what we feel - doesn't matter; and is not real.  This pain is real. It DOES matter - and saying otherwise - no matter how well-intentioned, does not help; it hurts and betrays us.

What we need is for you to listen, to hold space for us, to let us cry and scream and rage if we need to.  We need you to hear, and to acknowledge, and to simply be there, knowing that you support us.  And we need you to know that you don't have to be "strong" or control your own emotions, or "fix things," - and that it's o.k. if you cry and scream and rage with us if you need to.  Please know that is better for you to hold us in your arms and in your hearts, and say nothing than to try to explain or to minimize what we feel.

We will heal - all of us will heal - but it will take time.  We will find ways to overcome this, and to take positive action, in time.  But right now, just be there in support and solidarity and love.

Your loving sister,

How Real is the Earth to You?

 My busy weekend started with an urgent request on Friday night to write an earth-centered “Healing the Earth” meditation for my UU church on Sunday; followed by a company picnic Saturday afternoon, helping to lead the aforementioned service Sunday morning; and Sunday afternoon, administrative work for my Druid Grove and finishing edits requested by a client.  So, as you might imagine, by the end of Sunday, I was ready for some serious “Me Time,” which usually means reading, writing, or being outdoors, communing with nature.

 

Saturday night I watched an excerpt from Starhawk’s (2009) video titled “How Real is the Earth to You” – shortly after reading “Pagan Visions for a Sustainable Future” -  and so thoughts of Earth had been percolating through my mind for most of the weekend.  As is my habit in all but deep winter, when the day began to fade and the sun started sinking into the west, I found myself sitting on the deck; feeling the trees breathe, listening to the birds bedding down as the crickets and cicadas began their nightly chorus, and watching bats begin their evening mosquito hunt.  I sat out there pondering for a long time while the sun set and the moon rose full and yellow in the evening sky. Just taking it all in.  Just listening, watching, breathing, and feeling.

How real is the earth to you?  Interesting question.  For me, it’s very real.  For me, that deep feeling of being connected to the earth; to the flowing water; to the warm sun and to the wheeling stars is the essence of my being.  The strength and power of the land and all of the things that live on and in it is imperative to my life.  For me, the voices in the wind, the trees, the water and the land; the daily antics and struggles of the animals to live their lives are very real.  Those things are connected to the truest part of who I am.  They are wild joy, they are deep sorrow, they are balance and unbalance, they are danger and safety; they are strength and understanding and knowledge of things both known and unknown.  I would not live without them; and without them I wouldn’t be me. 

But so many people don’t have that deep connection; who don’t know that they don’t have it; and who don't know that they need it because it never occurs to them.  Who go through life eyes-down, tethered to the cell phone; texting their hearts out on social media to a vast and faceless audience? Who work indoors all day (and half the night) and spend the weekend running kids from place to place, catching up on work, or doing chores.  Who are so concerned with schedules and bills and the busy-ness of everyday life that they never stop to think.  Who never even stop to think ABOUT thinking about anything but what they’re doing in the immediate moment - or have to do later?  Who are so busy that they never notice that the same mockingbird sings at the same time in the same tree every morning on their walk to the office.  That the moon rises and sets in a predictable pattern.  That the world is full of insects, and of tiny seeds that become flowers and fruit.  Or that trees breathe.

We are a culture of busy-ness. Somehow being “too busy” has become some kind of badge of honor.  We rush from activity to activity, doing tasks - and rarely if ever really stop to consider whether those tasks are really important or why we’re doing them.  In all that busyness we don’t have time to think about the Earth, to experience it, to pay attention to what’s happening.  Certainly, many who consider themselves “environmentally aware” or “environmentally concerned,” might take a few minutes to sign a petition to stop fracking or save the wolves on Facebook; or possibly to pick up the trash someone has carelessly left on their front lawn.  Gardeners stop to spray their tomatoes because bugs are eating holes in the leaves (not realizing that the birds, frogs, and lizards that eat those bugs, and the butterflies and bees that make their tomatoes grow are being poisoned too).  For many, walking the dog, or noticing a cardinal at the bird feeder, or planting marigolds is the closest to “Nature” that we ever get.  And some of us don’t even get that close because we live in worlds of concrete, metal and glass, where the only “Nature” we come in contact with is the occasional pigeon or housefly. We watch the world through windows and doors and through gadgets, never seeing it as it really is – only as it is second-hand.

Is it any wonder that we “civilized” humans see Earth as distant, disconnected, irrelevant?  Is it any wonder that we scarcely even notice Nature unless some sort of Nature-made inconvenience or disaster jumps up and wakes us up for a few minutes? Is it any wonder that we believe those who say climate change isn’t real, animals aren’t going extinct, tropical rainforests and old-growth forests are disappearing at an alarming rate?

We are part of the Earth.  We are part of Nature.  We are part of the interconnected web of all existence.  We are asleep, and we need to wake up!

Today, take some time to just go outside and breathe.

Blessings. 

A Visit from Grandad

Arnold W "Pat" Marsh

 

I’m strolling around the fishing pond at one of my favorite parks on a lovely Autumn day, enjoying the turning leaves and sounds of water; watching the ducks and geese paddling around and dark green-gray turtles catching the last of the sunny days before they go into winter hibernation.  My thoughts wander to my grandfather, who grew up in the Pennsylvania back-country and was an avid fisherman who loved to be outdoors.   

For a child who grew up without a permanent home (my dad was in the Navy and we moved a lot, so never put down roots anywhere), my grandparents' homes were one of the few constants in my life.  All of my grandparents were wonderful people - very different - but wonderful!  One of the things we did with Grandad Marsh was go fishing.  He delighted in taking us kids fishing - though I know we were quite a handful – 4 excited kids in and out of the boat and up and down the banks; tangling lines, squealing and giggling while baiting hooks with worms and crawdads.  And Grandad indulgently watching, untangling our lines, keeping an eye on our bobbers, and helping us reel them in.   He would beam with pride when we actually caught something (though with all that noise and motion I’m surprised we ever did), and afterwards, we'd all troop home to clean and fillet the fish in the garage sink before turning them over to Grandma for the most delicious fish fries I have ever had.  They loved their grandkids, and I think Grandad got more joy when we caught something than anything he ever caught himself! 

So I’m walking around the pond and thinking “he’d love this place, the kids, the leaves, just being out. . .I wish he was here.”  And then suddenly, he is!  He lightly places his left hand on my right shoulder – just like he did when we’d walk together long ago - and I can feel him beside me, just beyond the veil that separates the worlds of the living from that of the dead.  Do you know how it is when you look over your shoulder and almost see someone?  Just a flash, or a faded image – but you KNOW something – a person – is there?  That was how it was with him, and as I turned I said, “Come walk with me, Grandad!  Isn’t it a beautiful day?”    “It sure is, Sweetie.  Let’s go!” 

And for a turn around the pond, we walk and talk together about everything and nothing.  Where the best places to fish are, and what he thinks he’d catch in this pond. Him laughing and saying, “You might not catch much here; those banks are low and there’s not much roots and tree coverage for them to hide under.”  “But do you remember how we used to fish from his little rowboat, or along the banks of “Neshaminy Crick?” (a wide but shallow creek in Pennsylvania behind the house where he spent most of his adult life).  I tell him yes, and we reminisce.  I share what I’ve been up to, and how much I’ve missed him, and he says how he’s missed me, but everything’s fine.  “How are those young rascals anyway?” (my kids)  “All grown up now, Grandad – and I’m a Grandma now too!”  “Really?  I can’t believe it’s been so long!”  He smiles and his blue eyes seem to tear up just a little – I know he wishes he could see them now, all grown up, and my son with a child of his own.

When we finish our trek around the pond, I turn to him and say “Well, Grandad – I’ve gotta go fix dinner – do you want to come?  I’m fixing shepherd’s pie!”  And he laughs and says, “I love shepherd’s pie.  Haven’t had that in years!  I’ll be there!”

That night I hosted a “dead supper,”  and he was the honored guest.  A “dead supper” (often called a “dumb supper”) is an old Irish and British tradition held around Samhain (Halloween / All Hallows Eve) to remember the ancestors.  A place is set for a departed loved one, and food and drink that they would like is offered in their memory.  Traditionally, the meal is eaten in silence, but Grandad always loved company, listening to conversation, laughing and making little jokes, and complimenting the chef (and of course, finishing up the leftovers) so I knew he wouldn’t want to eat in silence!   I set a place of honor for him at the table and place his picture near his plate.  I served him a little food and beer, and introduced him to my husband and nephew (who never met him in life) and told them who he was and what he meant to me.  And as we ate, I asked them to share their memories of lost loved ones too.  They do, and there is talk, laughter, and perhaps a few tears, as we remember those who are no longer with us in body.  

As I clear the table, I tell Grandad I love him and say goodbye, and he fades away beyond the veil.  But he and all of the beloved dead will always be in my heart, where I carry all of my ancestors.  Those who came before are who make us who we are, and I am filled with love and gratitude for the gifts of knowing them, and carrying on their legacy!

Blessed be the ancestors and the legacy the left us!

Catching Up!

Quoth the Raven. . .

Feeling very "witchy" this week!  Well, raven-y, anyway. . . Autumn is my favorite time of year. The summer heat is gone and the days are now temperate, though sitting on the deck in the morning now requires a sweatshirt and slippers.  The changing leaves invite me to walk in woods that are a riot of color.  The crickets and birds are quieter, squirrels are busy gathering walnuts and acorns, the hens have mostly stopped laying, and the dog and cats are shedding their summer coats and growing their winter ones.

Autumn makes me want to light a fire, bake bread and slow-cook comfort foods; and it's time to make apple dolls, and pick up the "warm" craft projects - like quilting and crocheting - that I put down at the end of Spring.   The Autumn world has a completely different feel than it does in winter, spring or summer; it's wonderful yet transient brilliance - reminds us that very soon things will be cold and gray for awhile. 

Samhain, the time when the veil between the worlds is thinnest, brings me thoughts of ancestors, both known and unknown.  Their spirits seem to whisper to me from the trees, and in the voice of the wind.   I look at binders full of genealogy charts and read the family's stories.  I put my ancestors'  pictures on my mantle and light candles for them, inviting them to come in and sit by the fire, share a meal, and be here with me in spirit just for awhile.  I talk to them a bit - just quietly - telling them I love them and miss them, and thinking about how they would answer the questions I ask them.  My Grove and I prepare for our Samhain ritual (the Celtic New Years' Eve); it's our time to remember the dead, reflect on the past year, and make plans for the future.  And of course there are all of the ordinary seasonal rituals too:  making Halloween costumes (this year, for three different occasions), collecting leaves and acorns to adorn the mantle, changing out summer clothes for fall ones, winterizing the house, and bringing the plants indoors.

These past few months have been busy, though not necessarily because it's Autumn.  I took most of August and the first half of September off to travel and spend time with family; including meeting my new grandson, who was born in Canada in early September!  Being a Grandma is a whole new thing for me, and I hope I can be as wonderful of a Grandma to him as my grandmothers were to me!  Unfortunately he's far away, but I vowed to do my best.  

In the second half of September, I spent four wonderful days camping in the Poconos with my fellow OBOD-ians and came back refreshed, rejuvenated, and ready to make huge changes in my life.  Which I haven't made yet. . .but I'm hopeful that I will!

So far October has been mostly about looking for my next work gig and sitting on jury duty.  Now that I truly have an insider's view of how our Justice System works, about all I can say is "I'm glad I only have to participate occasionally, on jury duty;" "Why do some of these cases ever go to trial?" and "I'm glad it's over!" "Never again" would be nice, but in North Carolina, you can be called every for jury duty every two years.

The "Traditional Diet" I talked about last time is going well.  Since I started it about 3-4 weeks ago, I've mostly been focusing on German cooking, and have been enjoying homemade sauerkraut served with fresh bratwurst; meat pies; smoked salmon; root and leafy vegetables; and all varieties of delicious soups, stews, and sourdough breads.  I've lost about 3 pounds, and am feeling pretty well - though not exercising as much as I was a couple months ago, so I need to get back to that.

And my daily reminder that it's time to go for a walk has just popped up on my screen.  So, until next time!

Blessings,

Karen

Better Health through a Traditional Diet?

Are traditional diets the key to good health?  According to what I know about bio-individuality, they might just be!  If you don't know what bio-individuality is, in a nutshell, it's the notion that:

1.  Everyone's body is different.
2. Each of us has different health an dietary needs.
3. There is no "one perfect diet" for all humans, because humans are an extremely adaptable species that evolved to not only survive, but thrive on pretty much any diet and in pretty much any environment.
4. You have to listen to your body and give it what it needs.

Bio-individuality is based on the idea that your ancestry, family medical history, current health, environment, and a lot of other factors interact to determine the best diet for you personally.  Because we're all unique, there is no one "right diet" for everyone - regardless what the diet gurus who make a lot of money writing books about "perfect diets" say - and so what may be right for one person may be completely wrong for another.  That's why a key component for improving health through diet is experimenting with different foods and ways of preparing them, and LISTENING TO YOUR BODY to see how it responds. If something isn't working, or is making you sick, stop doing it.  Pretty simple, eh?

I love to cook and explore new flavors and for the past several years have been eating whole, unprocessed, locally grown (if possible), seasonal, and organic (if possible) foods most of the time.   I feel pretty good, but I think I could be better - and sure, I still enjoy some "store-bought" foods from time to time - but only occasionally.

I've been traveling a lot lately, and since food is a topic near and dear to most people's hearts, have had quite a few conversations about food.  One in particular with a German woman who told me her health had declined since moving to North America, really got me thinking.  She said was very healthy while living Germany and eating a traditional German diet, but when she came here, she started eating "American Junk," gained 100 lbs., and developed an autoimmune disorder that left her so sick she couldn't get out of bed some days.  She told me that when she went back to eating traditional German food, she lost 60 lbs. and many (though not all) of her symptoms cleared up.   I've have heard similar stories from people from other ethnicities and food traditions, so that got me thinking about what traditional diet would be best for me.

My ancestry is a European "stew" of English, Irish, Scots and German,with a bit of Dutch and French sprinkled in.  My ancestors came to the U.S. in the 1600's, and lived on a diet that included some traditional foods they brought with them, and some they found here and adapted to their traditional recipes (for example, cornbread and other corn products, tomatoes, peppers, etc. - which aren't native to Europe).  The European lands they came from had two seasons:  "warm" (April or May until September) and "winter," which was the other 6 months.  During the "warm" season they grew root vegetables, cole crops, peas and other legumes, but in winter they didn't eat vegetables, or only ate those they could preserve in cold cellars or by drying, salting, or pickling them.  Their bread would have been baked from native grains like rye, barley, oats and wheat - which had to be planted, cared for, harvested, dried and milled first - and would have been much easier to eat and bake into bread if soaked before use.  They would have eaten apples, currants, plums, and nuts along with game animals, game birds (chickens and turkeys are not native to Europe), the cows, pigs, and sheep they raised on their farms and the cheese, butter, and cream they made from the cow or sheep milk.  Fermentation, a key element of cheesemaking and vegetable preservation, would have been common.

Of course, what you eat isn't everything - we also have to keep in mind that our ancestors were more physically active, did not sit at computer screens all day, walked where they needed to go, and spent a lot more time outdoors and moved around throughout the day as they went about their business.  So physical activity also played a role in the good health and long lives most of my ancestors enjoyed.

So I'm going to try a traditional foods diet for awhile.  I figure - if it kills me, I'll die happy because my ancestors are also well known for delicious foods like hearty stews and meat pies, delicious cheeses, and apple cake - and if it doesn't kill me and/or my health gets even better, I might have an opportunity to watch my skinny, pro-vegetarian, fat-phobic doctor's reaction.  Who knows, maybe I'll even get her to realize that there are other things to eat in the world besides vegetables, fish, and rice!

Vollkornbrot (German rye bread) is a traditional food I'm trying right now.  It's full-flavored, heavy, hearty, and chock full of whole grains.  So far I like it best with homemade apple butter or cheese, but I'm still experimenting.  The version I tried came from Weaver Street Market, our local (mostly) health food co-op.  Their version might be slightly different than this recipe I want to try, but the ingredients are simple and straightforward - whole rye flour, water, rye berries, rye meal, sea salt and yeast.  Here's a recipe I plan to try soon!

I'm excited about this new food adventure and will let you know how it goes!

Until next time!

Karen