Day 2
Within the last two weeks, up comes the notion within me that I need to feel a part of a caring community of people, and the most caring one I know of is a church about ten minutes' drive away: The Episcopal Church of Reconciliation. First went when K's dad died, for the service. Liked the priest a lot. Followed that with a couple of Easters (great Easter egg hunt for W) and Christmas Eve midnight masses. Always felt very welcomed, a very warm space and group of people. Couple of times to their 3rd Sunday labyrinth walks as well, but never, really, with any thought of joining, or attending any more than what we were doing.
Baptized Catholic, confirmed Episcopalian, high school Youth for Christ, back to Episcopal Church, even considered seminary for a while, but for 30+ years I have been seriously, committedly, lapsed from all such Christianity. A seeker, a wanderer in Eastern traditions, but then this thing just comes up into my face. God and/or Mary have always been pretty private affairs with me, not much for the community thing, though I am a reasonably social person (see dancing all night, below). Yes, Mary: Always Mary, as the tea label said eight years ago. Mary always. And Yemaya. Always Yemaya, at least since my adoption by her in '94.
But, never really felt the need for the community. And then all of a sudden, it's there: I want to be in/among a group of people connecting, in dialogue, searching, praying, loving. I need it: I need to feel its buzz of activity, its peace. I need to sit in the green-shaded windows of Reconciliation, need to walk through the lovely courtyard. So, this morning we go.
Welcomed, as one would expect, right and left. M, K's mom, is there with her bright smile and warm love. Robert, the priest, and his warm welcome. We meet Julie his wife this time: wild woman, WYLD woman. A host of others offering peace and welcome. The liturgy still does very little for me, occasional blips. I am hungry for a Robert sermon, he does them well, close to the immortal sermons of Paul Hawkins. All through the service, I can feel myself filled with unshed tears, a sense of return, need fulfilled (or spoken to, at the very least), I'm not entirely sure what they're all about, but they are there, knocking. After service, visiting, more welcome, coffee, sitting under the big oaks at the wooden playscape.
Home to more Maxwell (Urban Hang, folks, not the coffee) and breakfast and now this.
A word of explanation?
I mean for this to be a place of thanks and acknowledged blessings, without too much of the usual pmb fol de rol. Plenty of space for that in the other blogs, 43 things, what not. Perhaps a quieter space here.
I am embarked upon a search for new work, a process that can bring out the worst in me: rage, despair, cynicism, pessimism. I want this search to be a different walkabout, though, different search: try joy, hopefulness, optimism, hopefulness. The day of confronting the need to start looking again, of course, I hauled out all my usual playthings: see rage, despair, et al.
But, underneath the usual suspects is a thread of something different: a peacefulness, a hopefulness, an embracing, and a realization that we are currently blessed with not HAVING to do this. By that, I mean, not immediately, we are under no gun of necessity. A necessity of sorts, yes, further up the Maslow food chain, but not at ground zero. So, necessity yes; immediate, yes; but not THAT necessarily immediate.
Anyway, the DayBook is a place for the more hopeful side of me to have its voice. Yes, yes, ultimately "there can be only one," Duncan McLeod, and in some future time all the pmb blogs will likely merge, but for now, a greenspace for hope and glory.
Baptized Catholic, confirmed Episcopalian, high school Youth for Christ, back to Episcopal Church, even considered seminary for a while, but for 30+ years I have been seriously, committedly, lapsed from all such Christianity. A seeker, a wanderer in Eastern traditions, but then this thing just comes up into my face. God and/or Mary have always been pretty private affairs with me, not much for the community thing, though I am a reasonably social person (see dancing all night, below). Yes, Mary: Always Mary, as the tea label said eight years ago. Mary always. And Yemaya. Always Yemaya, at least since my adoption by her in '94.
But, never really felt the need for the community. And then all of a sudden, it's there: I want to be in/among a group of people connecting, in dialogue, searching, praying, loving. I need it: I need to feel its buzz of activity, its peace. I need to sit in the green-shaded windows of Reconciliation, need to walk through the lovely courtyard. So, this morning we go.
Welcomed, as one would expect, right and left. M, K's mom, is there with her bright smile and warm love. Robert, the priest, and his warm welcome. We meet Julie his wife this time: wild woman, WYLD woman. A host of others offering peace and welcome. The liturgy still does very little for me, occasional blips. I am hungry for a Robert sermon, he does them well, close to the immortal sermons of Paul Hawkins. All through the service, I can feel myself filled with unshed tears, a sense of return, need fulfilled (or spoken to, at the very least), I'm not entirely sure what they're all about, but they are there, knocking. After service, visiting, more welcome, coffee, sitting under the big oaks at the wooden playscape.
Home to more Maxwell (Urban Hang, folks, not the coffee) and breakfast and now this.
A word of explanation?
I mean for this to be a place of thanks and acknowledged blessings, without too much of the usual pmb fol de rol. Plenty of space for that in the other blogs, 43 things, what not. Perhaps a quieter space here.
I am embarked upon a search for new work, a process that can bring out the worst in me: rage, despair, cynicism, pessimism. I want this search to be a different walkabout, though, different search: try joy, hopefulness, optimism, hopefulness. The day of confronting the need to start looking again, of course, I hauled out all my usual playthings: see rage, despair, et al.
But, underneath the usual suspects is a thread of something different: a peacefulness, a hopefulness, an embracing, and a realization that we are currently blessed with not HAVING to do this. By that, I mean, not immediately, we are under no gun of necessity. A necessity of sorts, yes, further up the Maslow food chain, but not at ground zero. So, necessity yes; immediate, yes; but not THAT necessarily immediate.
Anyway, the DayBook is a place for the more hopeful side of me to have its voice. Yes, yes, ultimately "there can be only one," Duncan McLeod, and in some future time all the pmb blogs will likely merge, but for now, a greenspace for hope and glory.
posted by murat11 at 12:57 PM
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