Never had trouble with the plant before, the north
held enough light for its vine led flowers on porch
or tree its potted green foliage blew blooms to scorch
my tracing fingers.  But summer could not bring forth
 
a single replacement after the florist shop’s shorn
to the ground limp reds that cooled their torch.
Draped maples had spread spared no shadow scored
each tendrilled leaf with unkindled umbrage, southern
 
sun playing favorites among the other baskets.
Water and fertilizer were of no effect.  I moved
it next to its fecund twin and I asked it
to learn the theorems the other had proved
with such cones dangling that I want my casket
to trail them saying I loved and in return was loved.
 
Bob Elmendorf

the thole pin
 
Christ’s death was not the summer solstice
but just a few days shy of it on my side in bed at four
my legs are crossed to admit the executioner’s nail
while the light leaks through an ash I should take down
before it halves as the father and his son said
who could fell it for say nine hundred dollars
into my respective neighbors’ yards
Tom said he could die after he’d painted
the crucifixion which he gave to a friend
who lost it in a stack of newspapers
his agonies of Jesus hang on my walls
one morning at his camp Tom’s speech turned
chthonic until he shook a seizure a local quake
a thunder that finally rumbled into sleep
he’s long overboard who pulled the oar with me
still on the Odyssey’s bench of rowers
parsing the Greek he helped me with in college
reading his heavily underlined Beethoven biographies
his Harvard collection of Biblical commentaries
without his wind I’d be whipped until I died
 
 
Bob Elmendorf

“Archangel Michael, lend me your sword and shield so that I may slay the duel barriers to spirituality: fear and control”

I have witnessed things.  Things almost too sad to explain to the uninitiated; like the way the spiritually bereft cling to things and try to control their environment when they are disconnected from spirit. It is sad because the clinging is to that which is already dead. We cling to things for succor, but “things” can offer none. 

There is an unseen world, a parallel universe, that can be sensed into.  It is a world of space and time divorced from what others would call “reality.”  And yet, it exists.  You could call it anti-reality because it is so far from the usual and customary experiences of most human beings that it would seem like someplace out of Alice In Wonderland.  

Some might call it La La Land.  Others might call it being a Pollyanna.  I call it NEXT. 

And those folks, who dismiss this other world when they say “get in touch with reality”, what they really mean is they put more stock in pessimism, scarcity and fear.  I’d also add cynicism to that list because reality has such a grip on the reality-believers they can’t even imagine that something else is possible.  It is important to elucidate this because those ways of being are just the default setting of human beings.  Kind of like when you get the “blue screen” on a PC when it shuts down.  To get to another state requires letting go of so called “reality” and being open to something so utterly foreign the only name that fits is anti-reality.  

This unreality or anti-reality is “living life from love” and “living a spirit guided life.”  And that is an easy thing to say and not an easy thing to do.  Like most things worth attaining it requires a level of practice and self discipline that most people don’t have the time for. 

Does that mean people living life from love don’t have a need for physical comforts like money, order, predictability and other stuff?  No, it just means that we don’t put our faith in those things.  We don’t live life from a dead materialistic perspective. And while some material comforts are necessary they will never provide us with the true security we desire because by their very nature they are temporal, changeable and transient. 

True security is being a part of something timeless, changeless, and omniscient.  I always come back to this quote from Mathew 6:26 where Jesus admonishes his followers in the Sermon on the Mount not to be anxious “behold the fowl of the air; for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into their barns; yet they are provided for — Are ye no better than they?”

But how do we get to that place?  The short answer is listen.  Send a query to spirit.  What would you have me do next? Wait in silent expectation knowing that spirit is opening a way. But first it is practical to know where you are invested. 

A few queries to live from:
— When you consider predictability, where do look from? A temporal or a spiritual place?
— When you get scared, do you take your cues about decision making from the past or look forward to the guidance of spirit?
— When you seek security, do you consult your checkbook or look to community and the network of relationships you’ve built? 

Joseph Olejak 

We are at an inflection point in history.  It almost feels like that moment when Joni Mitchell sang Woodstock in 1967.  Hearts and minds are open and standing on the cusp of something big.  Maybe we don't even understand how big.  And inflection points call for choices and sometimes sacrifices. Please listen to and read the lyrics 
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q3SjqGfe-yM

WOODSTOCK 
I came upon a child of God
He was walking along the road
And I asked him, where are you going
And this he told me
I'm going on down to Yasgur's farm
I'm going to join in a rock 'n' roll band
I'm going to camp out on the land
I'm going to try an' get my soul free
We are stardust
We are golden
And we've got to get ourselves
Back to the garden
Then can I walk beside you
I have come here to lose the smog
And I feel to be a cog in something turning
Well maybe it is just the time of year
Or maybe it's the time of man
I don't know who l am
But you know life is for learning
We are stardust
We are golden
And we've got to get ourselves
Back to the garden
By the time we got to Woodstock
We were half a million strong
And everywhere there was song and celebration
And I dreamed I saw the bombers
Riding shotgun in the sky
And they were turning into butterflies
Above our nation
We are stardust
Billion year old carbon
We are golden
Caught in the devil's bargain
And we've got to get ourselves
Back to the garden

This is an anti-war song, but the refrain of "getting back to the garden" and "caught in the devil's bargain" is just as prescient now as it was then. 

Today's "garden" is equality.  Let's be clear, we were not ALL promised equality in our founding documents-- that privilege was just for landed white men.  Yet- the simple phrase "life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness" rings true as a basic desire for all human beings. The promise that each of us can strive and reach our full potential (without the fear that the boot of the state will be on our neck).

The economy that the 1% prospers from, and that most upper and middle class people greatly benefit from, was founded on the theft and genocide of other peoples and built on the stolen labor of human beings. This was our Faustian deal, our original sin.  We, as people of white privilege, traded the highest moral and spiritual value of human freedom for material riches.  A sin this country has never atoned for -- not with truth and reconciliation, nor with the kind of social programs that allow for the uplift of those who were exploited, oppressed, and left behind.

America seems to specialize in boots, theft, and genocide.  We've kept so many categories of people down (BIPOC: Black, Indigenous, People of Color; Women; Poor people; LGBTQ; and plenty of ethnicities).  Over time, we've torn down some of those barriers only to replace them with subtler ones-- such as slavery morphing into the Jim Crow era and then the war on drugs, which was a fancy way to racially profile people of color.  Maybe it is time to live up to the creed we seem to hold so valuable and extend that creed and include everyone. 

We marched today with the Black Lives Matter protest in Chatham.  At the end, people of color shared their experiences.  No one should have to experience racial slurs and walk through life feeling "less than" and "degraded" because of the amount of melanin in their skin.  That very idea is clearly insane and absurd on its face.  

Quakers have been a devoted presence for good for so long.  Not a perfect presence, but a steady one.  Some Quakers held slaves. Some Quakers separated Indigenous children from their parents to "civilize" them.  The thing is, we have engaged in self-reflection and have and are seeing the mistakes.  Today, Quakers are holding the vessel for equality.  We stand in a powerful place at this time in history -- as witnesses to the truth of equality.  The place we stand gives light and courage to others.  It also bends our nation toward justice. 

Queries we are considering in this moment are: 

• What can we each do to bend the US toward justice? 
• What personal sacrifices might I make to bring about equality? 
• What resources do I have to lend to the cause of justice? 
• What can we each do to create "a more perfect union" -- for real-- that actually includes everyone now?

Joseph Olejak with Phoenix Grace 

Keeping Quiet
Now we will count to twelve
and we will all keep still.

For once on the face of the earth,
let’s not speak in any language;
let’s stop for one second,
and not move our arms so much.

It would be an exotic moment
without rush, without engines;
we would all be together
in a sudden strangeness.

Fisherman in the cold sea
would not harm whales
and the man gathering salt
would look at his hurt hands.

Those who prepare green wars,
wars with gas, wars with fire,
victories with no survivors,
would put on clean clothes
and walk about with their brothers
in the shade, doing nothing.

What I want should not be confused
with total inactivity.
Life is what it is about;
I want no truck with death.

If we were not so single-minded
about keeping our lives moving,
and for once could do nothing,
perhaps a huge silence
might interrupt this sadness
of never understanding ourselves
and of threatening ourselves with death.
Perhaps the earth can teach us
as when everything seems dead
and later proves to be alive.
Now I’ll count up to twelve
and you keep quiet and I will go.

From Extravagaria : A Bilingual Edition by Pablo Neruda, Alastair Reid (Translator)
(Noonday Press 2001)
Submitted by Rebecca McBride
 

“Remembering that I'll be dead soon is the most important tool I've ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life."
~ Steve Jobs

The last blog I wrote on uncertainty failed to mention the greatest uncertainty of all -- Death.  Death makes life possible.   And one day we will take our final breath.  But that is not such a bad thing.  Without death, we would be overrun with every living thing that inhabits the planet.  Given our burgeoning human population we might already be at the point of too much life. 

When we consider death, which we rarely do, it has us realize that life is finite.  We are not going to live forever.   And yet this realization, as Albert Camus noted, makes the living of life that much sweeter. So  -- let's get on with the living. Dying is the easy part. It happens in a moment.  Life is happening in every moment.  

Now ... and now ... and now ... and there again.  Life is happening!! 

In every action we take and in every breath we take we are getting on with living life or getting on with dying.    

With the pandemic, the importance of life and living life to the fullest has come into sharp focus.  Being confined is a pretty good lens through which it is easy to see what is important.  Trust me, I know.  I was confined for 26 weekends.  It has one savor not just freedom but the living of life.  Confinement is a slow death.  

In a weird way the pandemic has something to teach us about how to live.  Nothing is going back to "normal" and it shouldn't.  Normal was, in many ways dysfunctional.  The pause is time to take a breather.  A full breath.  Not a breath like we'd been taking; drowning in our own mucus. Namely, all the stuff we've been tolerating in our lives that just doesn't work anymore. 

We could be on the cusp of a new reality if we are ready to give birth to it.  That would require not going back to dysfunctional as usual.  It could mean embracing a new paradigm.  A shift in thinking that profoundly reorders priorities.  

As we consider our own confinement during the pandemic here are a few queries: 

• What has come into focus?  
• What is newly urgent? 
• What has faded and is no longer important? 
• What new impulses are rising up? 
• Do you still feel like you have an abundance of time?  
• Is it time to get on with something? (something that has been back-burnered for a long time) 
• What are you waiting for?  (or put another way -- there is never the "perfect moment" -- just now) 
• When you get still ... and take a deep breath ... what arises? 

Joseph Olejak 

“Security is mostly a superstition. It does not exist in nature, nor do the children of men as a whole experience it. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure. Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing.”

~ Hellen Keller 

The upending of our lives by the pandemic has pointed starkly to the fact that life is uncertain and that underlying everything is that we don't know what is going to happen next.  

Of course this was true before the pandemic and it will be true after the pandemic, but at least we had the illusion of continuity.  There was not the blatent insecurity we are confronted with now.  

As human beings it is true that we lack control over our circumstances.  Anything can happen at any time from natural disaster to a personal health crisis.  We don't have control.  And all the trappings of civilization are a crude attempt at control.  I can't wave a wand and make the coronavirus go away, but the unique super power we all possess is that we have language.  And language gives us some choice in the matter of who we constitute ourselves to BE.  

To loosely quote Werner Ehrhardt "there is what happens and then there is the interpretation that gets added."   The power lies within the noticing of the language we are using -- what are we adding or put another way "what gets added automatically as a function of the linguistic soup we are immersed in." 

Which allows me to segue quite nicely into Quaker Silence.  Oddly, speaking and not speaking are powerfully tied.  In silence we have the unique opportunity to notice.  

It is possible to go from being the observer to the observed.  

STOP ... WAIT ... LISTEN ... RINSE ... REPEAT ... 

Can you separate the observation of what is happening from the meaning you add to it?   Just that little observational practice gets us a little distance from all the judgments and assessments about what is and gives us a place to stand where we can actually generate a little creativity, flexibility and power. (and by power I don't mean force -- I'm talking about the power that comes from being able to think beyond language boxes) 

Queries on Uncertainty

• Consider that life is uncertain and it always has been. So what? 
• Is it possible to use silence to find a way to simply be with what is?
• Are you clear about what you add (what gets added) to uncertainty? 
• If you bracket the assessments and judgments about uncertainty, what new interpretation could you bring to the circumstances? 

Helen Keller, once she discovered language, invented a whole world of possibilities for herself and her life -- that very same option is open to all of us. 

I choose creativity, invention, and flexibility in these times -- and you? 

Joseph Olejak 

I'm a Quaker and I also consider myself a Christian.  I realize Quakerism is a big tent and that might not land for some, but there is a story inside the crucifixion that I think is universal.  

It is the story of forgiveness.  

Before Jesus gave up his spirit he uttered these words: 

"When they came to the place called Golgotha, they crucified Him there, along with the criminals, one on His right and the other on His left. Then Jesus said, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” And they divided up His garments by casting lots. The people stood watching, and the rulers sneered at Him, saying, “He saved others; let Him save Himself if He is the Christ of God, the Chosen One.”…

~ Luke 23:34

Can you imagine the scene?  Could you place yourself there and still through all the suffering have the capacity for forgiveness?  

There are many mysteries inside of the death and resurrection story, but this one ... this act of forgiveness is powerful.  

WHY?

What does forgiveness give us access to that we would be otherwise cut off from?  I can think of a few.  Maybe readers can imagine others. 

• gratitude
• freedom from resentment
• acceptance 
• love
• joy
• freedom from the past
• an open heart 

Any one of these would be a motherlode -- a vein of gold that enriches our spiritual life.  

I can think of many stories of people "done wrong" who held on to anger for years and it hollowed them out.   Dr. Bernie Siegal, a cancer doctor, the author of Love, Medicine, & Miracles shared many stories of patients who activated their healing powers through the power of forgiveness.  

This Easter I invite all of us to consider the following queries: 

• Who in our lives deserves forgiveness?  And what constitutes "deserving?"
• Is it possible that we can also forgive ourselves for our own humanity and shortcomings? 
• Can we offer those around us permission to forgive us as a way of creating an opening? 
  
• Forgive our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.
  

I am writing this on Saturday.  The tomb is still closed.  Love is coming.  Let us roll away the stone on Sunday and find forgiveness in our hearts. 

Joseph Olejak 

With each spring the peepers make their song
Slowly as the evenings warm their voices rise 
Signaling spring and the vibrancy of life around us. 

We lost a song this spring -- Gene's song.  
His note will climb with the others but rise upward to the heavens
We notice it missing, but shall always remember the sound. 

A note that clings to us as we remain separated. 
A song that reminds of community and solidarity. 
A signal clear and piercing amid the noise. 

I shall always hear your song amid the evening song of the peepers
You can continue to sing to me -- I will listen.  

Joseph Olejak