Maybe There is Hope?

The holiday led me home to visit the family of origin. My two aging siblings and I found ourselves comparing notes on how we're managing various health issues: back pain, sleep apnea, a recurring tooth abscess resulting in jaw bone erosion, a shoulder with nerve impingement, a hiatal hernia, olfactory hallucinations, and possible motor seizures.

We range in age from 47 to 53. Believe it or not, we come from pretty hardy stock. We all work at least 40 hours a week in jobs that are considered professional. We all have health benefits through our work place. Of the three of us my sister has the most difficult situation. She provides life saving counseling services to families with children in crisis. In return for this she earns $36,000 a year. In January the deductible on her health benefits will rise from $300 to $1,000 putting the oxygen she uses at night for her sleep apnea out of reach after December 31st. She has no dental coverage to help her pay for the periodontal treatment for her abscess, and her income barely keeps up with basic expenses.

Our conversation shifted to health care reform and how hopeless the circus in Washington feels. My mother pointed out that Obama said during the campaign that he was counting on the American people to hold him and the congress accountable. I asked what we an do to make any real difference when elections are bought and sold by corporations?

The next day my sister and I returned to the conversation. I asked her if she would ever go to Washington to march knowing that she is not and never has been the protest type. She said she didn't see how it would make a difference. I couldn't disagree. She admitted she is so discouraged she isn't sure she would even bother to vote in the next elections seeing how little progress we've seen since after supposedly making history last November. I pointed out that low voter turnout always results in big wins for Republicans. She thought for a minute and then surprised me by saying, "if someone organized the bus, I think I would get on it."

Since that conversation, something about my non-joining, non-activist, even apathetic sister saying this has given me new hope. Today, as I read comments on Robert Reich's column "2009: The Year Wall Street Bounced Back and Main Street Got Shafted," I noticed that the "trolls" and devil's advocates seem to have quieted and the comments posted are less cries for help and more sharing of in depth knowledge gained from independent investigation and research. Multiple posts contain calm, reasoned arguments for the necessity of revolution.

When I was first introduced to Marxist ideas about revolution, I was a young adult. That was thirty years ago; then revolution seemed to promise only chaos and needless suffering. I could not have foreseen where I and the world come to. As of now the only source of hope I have found is the willingness of the people of Iran, Huffington Post readers, and my sister to consider revolution a reasonable response to unreasonable oppression.

Turning Toward the Light

Frenetic preparations to hit the road for holiday family visits usually makes the passing of the solstice a blur. It has been no different this year, except for the added spiritual darkness felt by so many who are struggling in the financial and political darkness that has befallen our country and the world.

I was glancing through a column posted on Huffington Post by a self-proclaimed conservative blogger and skipped ahead, as I am more and more inclined to do, to look at reader comments, wanting to know what ordinary people like me are thinking.

I came upon this prayer posted by a reader who goes by the moniker freedom4allau.

Divine Universal Creator, Mother / Father God - on the eve of this, the day the masses celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ and some of us celebrate Winter Solstice, a deep abiding prayer / meditation that this country may begin a new path of understanding, enlightenment and healing.

I was moved to post this response:

Thanks to freedom4allau for the universal prayer.

The clash of the titans tone of our conflict is as out of proportion to real life as the mythic battles between the Greek or Roman gods. Our elected officials, like Mickey in the Sorcerer's Apprentice seem powerful and scary when we focus on the over-sized shadow cast by the bright lights we shine on them. They also make quite a mess when let loose with the magic wand of governmental power.

But we need to remember that a larger wisdom will eventually reveal the mouse-sized stature of today's supposed gods and monsters. They too are ordinary humans, with no special insight and only the power granted to them by the people's collective will.

We can not wait for the Sorcerer in the cartoon to come and clean up the mess.

That character represents the spirit of good that lives in all of us. The greater wisdom, knowledge and compassion we see in him is real, but it lies beyond any one person alone. We feel it any time we notice the spiritual sustenance we take from witnessing or performing loving acts of generosity and kindness.

Thanks for the prayer, to remind all of us that we have the choice to put down our swords, to not be tricked into doing battle with one another. We can choose to return again and again to our faith in our potential to find our way through to something better.

Why are We Buying the Best Coverage for People Who Think We Don't Deserve the Same?

or, Start a Petition

Change.org

In response to "Wish I Had a River"

I posted the comment below in response to a friend's post on her blog bullseye, baby! about the power of music to reconnect to universal spirit.

So wise, my friend.

At 51 I find the ache you describe has gone and a lovely peace has arrived. I remember sensing this peace in some older (50's) adults I knew and loved when I was a child -- Mrs. Robinson, my next door neighbor, and Mr. Copenhaver, one of my mother's co-workers. I distinctly remember thinking then how I looked forward to arriving at my 50's. I though maybe then I too could live every day "in my skin" with the peace I felt emanating from these two people who understood how to be a friend to an eight year-old, burdened by adult questions and concerns.

I think back now about how Mrs. Robinson was deeply grounded in her love of Christ and her evangelical religious community. I sat in her kitchen on Saturdays and visited with her while she fried up a mountain of chicken for Sunday's church supper. I once walked by the small building on a Sunday and felt the brick walls pulsing with the organ music and the booming voices singing joyful gospel songs. I couldn't make out the words, but I could feel the message.

Each day after school I walked to my mother's office with my younger brother and waited there to walk home with her at the end of her day. I remember Mr. Copenhaver occasionally taking a break from work to stand on his head. My mother explained it was part of his daily meditation practice. Mr. Copenhaver was the only man I knew whose energy never seemed to feel angry or overbearing.

How lucky I feel today that I knew these two people at such a tender and vulnerable time in my life. I think knowing them planted a seed that I believed in enough to spend the next 40 years trying to learn how to nurture.

Even though the ache is gone, I still get lost in the business of everyday life, and music still serves as a lovely gateway into a garden blooming with self- energy- and universe-awareness. Thank you for sharing with such beautiful openness and love, words and reflections that speak to the hearts of so many.