Wellspring: inspiration and guidance for a spiritual journey

A bum knee and Buddhism, by Joy Collins

I have been an avid runner for 37 of my 53 years. Whereas I was once speedy and competitive, for many years now I have been a slow jogger without a running watch. Running has been my most constant meditation practice.That has changed in the last six weeks. As oft happens to a post-50 year old body, my knee began acting up for no apparent reason. As a young, fierce runner, I would just continue running and my body would miraculously heal. Now, 6 weeks later, even a leisurely dog walk around the block causes me pain. I hope to get it correctly diagnosed by an orthopedic doc in mid-January. Meanwhile, my frustration mounts as my body fails me. No endorphins to elevate my mood. No aerobic exercise to burn off holiday chocolate. No anchor of my most constant and calming meditation practice. I find myself snippy, this morning even telling my partner I resented her being able to go to her water aerobics class. This is not very spiritual!

When I paused to check in with myself, I was reminded of a quote from one of the books for our upcoming Wellspring session on Buddhism. In Buddhism Without Beliefs, Stephen Batchelor asks the question: “Since death alone is certain and the time of death uncertain, what should I do?” How does this connect to my bum knee? My knee is a teeny reminder that eventually my whole self will fail. That is certain. When and how is unknown. But not the “if.” Given this truth, what shall I do? There are people I know who seem so gracious and serene at the end of their lives, let alone when they have something relatively minor like a knee problem. And there are those who seem to go kicking and screaming. I think Batchelor is suggesting that while I might not have a choice about my injured knee, I DO have a choice about my attitude. And that Buddhist ideas and practices can help me move away from snippy, a bit more towards gracious. Since I’m not getting any younger, and more ailments and injuries are certain to appear, why not cultivate a bit of graciousness today with my knee? As Batchelor says, “it requires that I examine my attachments to physical health…for they are ultimately lost.” He believes it is simply the ability to keep pondering the illusion of permanence and to stay in THIS moment that will get me through.

Maybe on this gray December day, I’ll go sit for a few minutes in front of the fire with my snoozing dog, and contemplate all that I in fact am grateful for in this very day.

Finding Light in the Darkness, by Rev. Jen Crow

With the winter solstice upon us, many of us in Wellspring groups have been asking the question – what sustains you in times of darkness? As a recent attendee at a solstice gathering I found myself wrestling with the question again this year – and this year the answer came quickly. Remembering, I said. Remembering sustains me. When I remember that every situation and every one is a mix of light and dark - when I remember that I have friends and family all around me to hold me up when I cannot stand alone- that is what sustains me in the dark.

This week I heard the news of our fellow Unitarian Universalists in Clearwater, Florida. I heard the terrible story of a father who killed his two children, his ex-wife, and her partner – and then finally turned the gun on himself.

As I read the articles and heard the words of my colleagues who are trying their best to bring comfort to a devastating situation – I cried and felt as if the darkness was surrounding me. This kind of evil is so hard to accept – so hard to explain or comprehend. And then add to it the reality that the attacker was not outside of our circle – but within it – and the story gets even closer to home. Small children, women in love, and a man who threw away all that he once held dear – all lost to the undertow of evil – of homophobia and violence.

Most days I like to believe that we are beyond this as a society – and certainly as Unitarian Universalists. But the truth of the matter is that this capacity for evil lives in each one of us – and the real question for me then becomes not only how do I sustain myself in the darkness, but how do I and do we ward off the shadows of evil that can seduce us and lead us away from connection with all that is holy and good? As I rage and question and cry – I hear the voice of a colleague knocking at the door of my mind – lean in to the love, she tells me, lean in to the love and the darkness at your door will be bearable. This is where your hope lies. So this winter as the darkness deepens and the light returns I find myself searching for the new connections that arise from this tragedy, grasping for the hope I hear in others voices, and leaning in close to my friends and family as they hold me up one more time.

Gifts of the Season, by Libby Moore

It's that time of year again when we feel the pressure of too much to do, too many plans. I'm looking forward to all of it – it's just that there's so much happening at once. There's our Wellspring solstice celebration on Thursday, which will be quiet and lovely, and then a church caroling party here on Friday, which will be noisy and boisterous. And then we have company coming at the weekend and into next week. I made a comprehensive list yesterday. Seven pages, including menus, shopping lists, schedules. So much for being in the present moment.

But in the midst of all the plans and seasonal hoopla, I know that it's the simple gifts that matter most. The beauty of the snow drifting down in our backyard, the peace of a quiet day blanketed in white. The strings of colored lights going on all by themselves during my morning meditation – a miracle of modern technology, these timer things. The sweetness of hot water flowing over my body from a new shower head that my husband installed without even being asked. The luxury of quiet time at breakfast, reading the newspaper which is delivered by a kind and gentle woman who makes it through any amount of snow, every single day. The joy of singing in the church choir, raising our voices together in praise and gratitude.

With all this beauty and joy, the greatest gift for me this season is that my youngest granddaughter, Evelyn, is coming to visit (with her parents, of course). She's alert, curious, intent on finding out about the world, active and mobile, and just old enough to participate in all the Christmas commotion. (She'll be a year old in January. The day she turns two, a new president will be inaugurated.) I remember her father at that age, his beautiful open face tilted toward the tree, a little finger pointing upward, whispering "hot," which he understood meant not to touch. There was magic in the lights and the sparkling tinsel, but most of all in his shining eyes. Evelyn is another such a gift to the world, and I'm delighted and grateful that her parents are able to bring her to share Christmas at our house. But it's also true that every child is a holy child, Sophia Lyons Fahs reminds us, and that every night a child is born is a holy night. This season calls us to celebrate the birth of every new life in families around the world. I am so grateful for the simple joys of this season, for the sharing of time and love. May it be so for all of us.

Winter Solstice, by Tina Simson

I know this is a common observation in the northeast but I drive to work in the dark and drive home in the dark. In my office suite, I have one of only two windows and I’m embarrassed a little because I’m the new kid. I find myself standing up occasionally these days, turning away from my work and looking into the sky. When the sun is actually out, my colleagues will stop by to talk about a myriad of things and just slowly walk toward the window. Conversation stops and we marvel for a moment at the light.

It’s instinct I think, to crave the light. This time of year we light the darkness with our strings of holiday lights around houses and trees. I wonder if somewhere inside us we are biologically aware that the year is about to tip and after this week, the days will begin to grow longer. I went searching for some Solstice info and found some great sights to share. The excerpts here are from www.Candlegrove.com

Many, many cultures the world over perform solstice ceremonies. At their root: an ancient fear that the failing light would never return unless humans intervened with anxious vigil or antic celebration.

Looking further into these celebrations, I was surprised just how diverse and yet how connected they all were. I liked the name of the ancient Greek celebration, Lenaea, the Festival of the Wild Women, until I read further that it involved human sacrifice.

No one's really sure how long ago humans recognized the winter solstice and began heralding it as a turning point -- the day that marks the return of the sun. One delightful little book written in 1948, 4,000 Years of Christmas, puts its theory right up in the title. The Mesopotamians were first, it claims, with a 12-day festival of renewal, designed to help the god Marduk tame the monsters of chaos for one more year.

I would enjoy a festival designed to tame the monsters of chaos!

Great Neolithic structures were built to welcome the sun after the longest night of the year. People still flock by the thousands to these sites such as Stonehenge. For people intimately connected to the cycle of the seasons, the return of the sun was certainly time for celebration. A structure in Ireland, Newgrange predates Stonehenge by 100 years.

… not so many people are familiar with Newgrange, a beautiful megalithic site in Ireland. This huge circular stone structure is estimated to be 5,000 years old, older by centuries than Stonehenge, older than the Egyptian pyramids! It was built to receive a shaft of sunlight deep into its central chamber at dawn on winter solstice.

Through the wonders of the internet, you can watch the sunrise through the ancient hallways of Newgrange at www.Heritageireland.com
It will take place at 8:30 AM on December 21 and 22, GMT. That’s Greenwich Mean Time, 5 hours later than Eastern Standard Time in the US.

So I don’t know about you but, I’ll be up on Friday morning at 3:30 AM waiting for the promise of Spring.

Peace on Earth Good Will Toward Men…by Tina Simson

My son is applying to become a naturalized German citizen. He is my wandering son and is more of a world citizen than an American. He has an open perspective of respect and possibility that seems so necessary today. He is eligible to do this because his grand parents were deprived of their citizenship as German Jews in the 1930’s. The German government reaches out across nations to make amends and to reclaim it’s lost countrymen.

I asked my husband how he felt about this and he hesitated and said, “ok, I guess.” His parents escaped Nazi Germany in 1939, coming to the US in hope of freedom and sanctuary. We have documents and records that chronicle the loss of family members in concentration camps. The surviving family is dispersed throughout the world from South America to Hong Kong to South Africa to the US. They escaped to any country that would take them and many didn’t escape at all.

A student in the town his parents lived in before the war contacted my husband about 20 years ago. She was writing a dissertation on what happened to the Jews of Gerlachsheim a small town near Frankfurt. She invited him to travel to Germany to meet with her. It was the beginning of a long process of peace making that culminated with my in-laws visiting there too; the trip was offered and paid for by the German government. They were in their eighties, eager and cautious and a bit frightened. I remember the stories of visiting the store their family had owned and going into the apartments where they had lived. They were positive and pleased to go back and talked about the cruise on the Rhine. They felt at home again.

In the days before my mother-in-law passed away she often slipped into her native tongue, which I didn’t understand, but in the darkest hours she seemed to relive the horror of the Nazis. I wondered then how a soul could hold such love and atrocity. But I see now, seventy years after the terror, that the healing is complete. Over the holiday break, my youngest son and his dad will go through the fading papers, gathering the documents to prove the lineage. They will come full circle and my son will become a German and an American.

I’m writing about this because there’s not much good will these days and peace is illusive and yet it’s what we celebrate and wish for during the darkest time of the year. This story brings hope to the tragedy of war, to the healing of time and to the willingness of humankind to reach out in peace.

Blessing of the light, by Tina Simson

I pack up the Chanukah box this week and send it off to my son and his girlfriend. It’s filled with a shiny new menorah, candles, a food grater and matzo meal for the latkes. There is chocolate and strong coffee and a silly card about how many latkes one can eat. I send a CD with Chanukah music and the words to the prayer he already knows by heart.

Ba-ruch ata, A-do-nai E-lo-hei-nu, me-lech ha-o-lam, a-sher ki-de-sha-nu be-mits-vo tov, ve-tsi-va-nu le-had-lik neir shel Chan-nu-kah.

Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the Universe, Who sanctified us with His commandments and commanded us to kindle the Hanukkah lights.

A dear friend of mine looses her husband this week, tragically, too soon. She receives friends at the calling hours, hugging each one as if the light inside them will help her stand.

Light gives of itself freely, filling all available space. It does not seek anything in return; it asks not whether you are friend or foe. It gives of itself and is not thereby diminished. ~Michael Strassfeld

My husband, a teacher, is struggling with a group of really disruptive kids. They are loud, rude and disrespectful and they challenge his confidence as a teacher. I commiserate with his struggles, suggesting a trip to the principal’s office or a phone call home. His face softens, ‘these are all good kids,” he tells me “they just have troubles.” I find him in his office early this morning rewriting study sheets looking for ways to reach them

We cannot hold a torch to light another's path without brightening our own. ~Ben Sweetland

My brother’s family car breaks down this week, and the washer, and the furnace, and his youngest drops the camera and it no longer works. There’s more but…frankly that’s enough to tell. Last night with a borrowed car, he treks about with his family searching for the perfect tree. Afterwards, the children and his wife fall asleep curled on the couch as he strings the lights.

Turn your face to the sun and the shadows fall behind you. ~Maori Proverb

A colleague waits as her brother lives his last days. The doctors have finally managed his pain and he is peaceful and thoughtful. They sit together answering questions of the cosmos. She shares this gift with me.

In the right light, at the right time, everything is extraordinary. ~Aaron Rose

The first Christmas card arrives in my mailbox. It comes from a family friend, a man who in the recent past lost his son and his wife. This year he had a stroke, he now speaks only with great effort. In a trembling hand it is signed, “with love, Ed”

Sadness flies on the wings of the morning and out of the heart of darkness comes the light. ~Jean Giraudoux

I wake this morning in the darkness, hoping the day will bring me stillness. It has been a week of bad news and struggles for so many around me and yet somehow, I trust the light.

Someday perhaps the inner light will shine forth from us, and then we'll need no other light. ~Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Happy Chanukah

Lead with your heart, by Tina Simson

My life just got much busier than I want it to be. As I posted recently, I added a new job to by very active schedule of going to seminary, being on the Board at our church and another Board for a local homeless shelter. Not to mention, I have relationships and family to tend to and of course the laundry. I’m out of breath some days even before I wake up. This is all my doing, my choices but somehow it overwhelms me.

So like all good UUs, I did what I thought would work, I thought about it, and thought about it and wrote out schedules and structured my life and had those serious conversations with my husband about how he needs to help more around the house. By the way he helps plenty already. But I wanted to find a rational organized way to solve my feelings of burden. This left part of my brain has served me well and yet it wasn’t working. I had a meltdown last weekend getting all weepy and whiney about what I had done to myself.

Then I talked with my Spiritual Mentor, a gift of the seminary I attend. First she confirmed what I knew, my life was too busy. But she didn’t suggest cutting things out or trying to schedule time for myself to meditate, exercise and eat right, all things that had gone out the window. She said something revolutionary. She said slow down and put your heart in control of your life. She suggested that although my well-ordered mind has served me well, this was a time for a different driver. She told me if I slowed down then I’d have more time! The moment she said these things to me, I felt a sigh of relief. You see I trust my heart I just don’t let it drive too often.

So I am one week in to leading with my heart and somehow I’m breathing easier. My life is still chock full but I walk slower everyplace I go and I drive the speed limit on the highway. Small things, I know, but I’m surprised at how much room I have found, room to watch the swirling clouds from my office window, room to listen deeply to my new colleagues, time to play with my dog and enjoy dinner with my honey. Maybe I’ve just replaced the constant chatter in my head that was saying, “Oh my God, how am I going to do all these things.” Replaced it with breathing, an important food for my soul. I also check in with my heart all the time, which allows me to trust my actions without question. I almost always second-guess my mind but I trust my heart. So one week in and I’m still busy but not whiney or weepy and sitting here watching the first real snow of the season, I feel blessed to have the life I lead.