a reason to believe

“For we know that our patchwork heritage is a strength, not a weakness. We are a nation of Christians and Muslims, Jews and Hindus - and non-believers. We are shaped by every language and culture, drawn from every end of this Earth; and because we have tasted the bitter swill of civil war and segregation, and emerged from that dark chapter stronger and more united, we cannot help but believe that the old hatreds shall someday pass; that the lines of tribe shall soon dissolve; that as the world grows smaller, our common humanity shall reveal itself; and that America must play its role in ushering in a new era of peace.” Barack Hussein Obama, from his Inaugural Speech

The power of these particular lines continue to resonate with me. It is these lines that have been most marveled at between the four walls of my therapy room. Why?

With these words, Obama opened the door to an enormous group of Americans who have been not only disenfranchised, but have been rendered downright invisible. He included folks who’ve never been mentioned by an American president before, who were never included as a valid part of the whole. Up until now, every politician has had to distance themselves widely from these Americans, even if they were, in truth, solidly one of them. Our Christian-centric leaders have given lip service and a nod to other faiths as being part of the American tapestry, but never to those of no faith. Hearing the term “non-believers” used in such an inclusionary way was striking. It was a shift in the national consciousness.

As a Pagan, I don’t consider myself to be a“non-believer”. I could by no means be called “Godless”. We Pagans for the most part have more Gods than less. We even have countless Goddesses. And boy, do we believe in ALL kinds of things! I believe that spring follows the harshest winter, and that all matter matters. My spirituality is chock full of faith. However I find myself deeply reassured that Obama’s vision of America includes not only ALL faiths, but those who don’t have any faith. And, of course, in doing so, he is giving those of no faith, some faith. He is giving non-believers something to believe in.

These words got mused, mulled, and commented on a lot in the past week in my therapy room. We live in a time when growing up Catholic, Hindu, Jewish, Muslim, or Pagan doesn’t’ necessarily mean you will BE that as an adult. Many people are either searching for a spiritual system that fits their own personality, or cobbling one together out of several. Many of my clients under thirty-five were brought up by parents who had no spiritual practice or affiliation, who didn’t have the conviction to call themselves atheists, but had, for one reason or another, disavowed organized religion. This phrase “non-believers” catches and holds a lot of people who either firmly don’t believe in God, or don’t believe that there’s one system of faith that has all the answers. This past week, I was amazed at how many of my clients identified with that phrase and how important it was that it was named.

For many of the folks I work with, their spiritual quest rides not in embracing Gods of the Sky or a Goddess of the Earth, but in embracing the strength and sacredness of our common humanity. Obama’s words go far to legitimize this quest as valid and brings us closer to truly seeing each and every person as divine. Even those who don’t believe in divinity.

Thank the Gods for this new president! Or don’t. No matter, we all matter in this new era.

hope and history rhyme

Last night, as I was watching the television coverage of the festivities in Washington, I found myself sobbing yet one more time. How many times in a day can the heart break open, releasing cynicism, letting in joy? I turned the television off and cried a good long time after witnessing Joe Biden quote a line from a poem of the poet Seamus Heaney. As if life wasn't good enough, it turns out our Vice President is the kind of guy who quotes Irish poets.

Brigid is pleased. She can't wait until her feast day to have the whole poem shared..so I'll do that right now.

What poem will I find for February 2nd?

Doubletake

Human beings suffer,
they torture one another,
they get hurt and get hard.
No poem or play or song
can fully right a wrong
inflicted and endured.

The innocent in gaols
beat on their bars together.
A hunger-striker's father
stands in the graveyard dumb.
The police widow in veils
faints at the funeral home

History says, Don't hope
on this side of the grave.
But then, once in a lifetime
the longed for tidal wave
of justice can rise up,
and hope and history rhyme.

So hope for a great sea-change
on the far side of revenge.
Believe that a further shore
is reachable from here.
Believe in miracles
and cures and healing wells.

Call the miracle self-healing:
The utter self-revealing
double-take of feeling.
if there's fire on the mountain
or lightning and storm
and a god speaks from the sky.

That means someone is hearing
the outcry and the birth-cry
of new life at its term.

Seamus Heaney,

Elizabeth Alexander's Poem for Today

I love the tradition of poetry being read at inaugurations. Words are potent, are powerful. They give shape to our thoughts and sensations, they change our consciousness with complex simplicity. Poetry is the mindful/soulful use of words and images. Wasn't this morning poetry itself?

This moning there was an ocean of words and images, coming in waves that brought relentless tears. Poetry was part of today. Today was and is poetry. My family, the cats, the downstair's neighbor and his dog all gathered around our television to bear witness to the change of power. The warm sun of San Francisco streamed in the window, yet we yearned towards the exhilarating cold of Washington. I know that in the future, I will remember feeling and seeing my breath in icy crystals, although the truth is that the only air made visible was the steam rising from my hot coffee. Nevertheless, I know I will remember us all as one, in the cold sharp sparkle of our capitol, cheering for the promissory note that was delivered today.

On Brigid, poetry will fill the blogosphere. Today, poetry spilled across our nation and perhaps, the whole world. I print here Elizabeth Alexander's poem she read at the inauguration. While she read it, the camera went to the crowds, and then, to birds flying above in the cold winter sky.

There is magic in every sentence we begin. There is magic in this poem.

Praise song for the day.

Each day we go about our business, walking past each other, catching each others' eyes or not, about to speak or speaking. All about us is noise. All about us is noise and bramble, thorn and din, each one of our ancestors on our tongues. Someone is stitching up a hem, darning a hole in a uniform, patching a tire, repairing the things in need of repair.

Someone is trying to make music somewhere with a pair of wooden spoons on an oil drum with cello, boom box, harmonica, voice.

A woman and her son wait for the bus.

A farmer considers the changing sky; A teacher says, "Take out your pencils. Begin."

We encounter each other in words, words spiny or smooth, whispered or declaimed; words to consider, reconsider.

We cross dirt roads and highways that mark the will of someone and then others who said, "I need to see what's on the other side; I know there's something better down the road."

We need to find a place where we are safe; We walk into that which we cannot yet see.

Say it plain, that many have died for this day. Sing the names of the dead who brought us here, who laid the train tracks, raised the bridges, picked the cotton and the lettuce, built brick by brick the glittering edifices they would then keep clean and work inside of.

Praise song for struggle; praise song for the day. Praise song for every hand-lettered sign; The figuring it out at kitchen tables.

Some live by "Love thy neighbor as thy self."

Others by first do no harm, or take no more than you need.

What if the mightiest word is love, love beyond marital, filial, national. Love that casts a widening pool of light. Love with no need to preempt grievance.

In today's sharp sparkle, this winter air, anything can be made, any sentence begun.

On the brink, on the brim, on the cusp -- praise song for walking forward in that light.

Invitation to The Fourth Annual Brigid in the Blogosphere Poetry Slam

Feel free to copy the following to your blog and spread the word. Let poetry bless the blogosphere once again!

WHAT: A Bloggers (Silent) Poetry Reading

WHEN: Anytime February 2, 2009

WHERE: Your blog

WHY: To celebrate the Feast of Brigid, aka Groundhog Day

HOW: Select a poem you like - by a favorite poet or one of your own - to post February 2nd.

RSVP: If you plan to publish, feel free to leave a comment and link on this post. Last year when the call went out there was more poetry in cyberspace than I could keep track of. So, link to whoever you hear about this from and a mighty web of poetry will be spun.

Feel free to pass this invitation on to any and all bloggers.

Thank you, Reya, for beginning what is now an annual event.

i'm back

Yes, I'm back in the blogosphere.

It was great to take time out, to slowly stop writing blogs in my head, to free psychic space for internal processing of the big changes at hand. For several weeks now I've stayed, for the most part, off the internet. I've attempted to stay simply dialed down to the home and work front. And, it's been good. I've needed to keep it simple, because right now, things are really complex.

I'm in the business of change, being a therapist and all. Personal transformations are challenging enough, but when we all together are riding a wave of economic, environmental and social change...well, that has me grounding and doing mindful breathing pretty much on an hourly basis.

Some of my friends and clients have lost considerable amounts of money. Some have been laid off and more are dreading upcoming "re-orgs" at their work. Which translates into more lay-offs.

Friends in Portland were snowbound at home for days in December. Here in San Francisco, we've had our windows open and are wearing flipflops in January. And... in the midst of the climate change and financial freefall, excitement is building for the inauguration on Tuesday.

I'm back. It's time to join in with everyone else and celebrate. Change is hard. Really hard. But, miraculously, this election my country didn't resist it, didn't vote to pretend it was not happening. We voted for the kind of change we want, we voted for hope and we voted for getting through the hard changes together.


Sometimes the most unsettling changes are those which are the changes for the better. I know that for sure from my long years as a therapist working with people who are struggling to let in love and trust their fledgling ability to be happy. I know this from the painful stretch of my own human heart to take in just how beautiful and precious life can be.

These next few days, I plan on relishing and savoring our ability to change. I know my heart will be having a healthy workout. Tomorrow we celebrate the birthday of Martin Luther King. Then, the inauguration.

And now.... I'm going to watch Bruce Springsteen, Pete Seeger, and a whole bunch of others sing in front of the Lincoln Memorial on television, celebrating the unity of our nation. Even writing that has me shaking my head in wonder.

Martin had a dream. This week, we seem to be living it.