Hopeful Thinking

    We have to accept the fact that within the span of a single lifetime the world of spirituality, religion and tradition has changed utterly. Faster than any shift has been accomplished in literally thousands of years. Our heads are spinning. Everyone older than forty can attest to the difference. Many younger as well. In the span of only a few decades our freedom of religion has grown to include the words ‘and from’ as well. This is a good thing. Some may argue it’s the best thing that has ever happened to organized religion to date.     In Fitchburg it was once compulsory by law to attend—and tithe—weekly. If for some very good reason you were unable to be present in church, not to worry. The city provided well-wishers with wicker baskets to walk the streets on Sunday morning and collect your offering.     It is soon the 500th anniversary of the day Martin Luther tapped his protest of the Catholic church to the doors of the Wittenberg Cathedral and ...

  People often think I’m quite a busy person. I do tend to give that impression. Although I’m certain it’s more indicative of a lack of efficiency than actual accomplishment. Looking busy isn’t the same as getting stuff done. People see me driving all over town in my ramshackle red minivan and they don’t realize the reason they keep seeing me is because I keep forgetting where I’m driving. The only truly busy thing about me is my mind.     I remind myself, however, that with my busy mind comes both good and less-good. The people who love me remind themselves the same, thankfully. But that’s how we all remain loving and hospitable. We choose to accept both the good and the less-good, even the bad sometimes in those we love. Yet we don’t grant ourselves the same grace or mercy that we often give to our loved ones. Or worse, we give it to no one.     I was at the box store the other day chatting with my friend Linda. She asked me how I survive it all. My answe...

Those that know me find it hard to believe, because I appear to be quite an extrovert, but I’m actually a fairly self-conscious and shy person. Especially in situations where I don’t personally know anyone. It has always been quite difficult for me to accept invitations. But I noticed a long time ago it was holding me back from life. It was holding me back from a potential inside which I believe each of us has. I was hiding my light because I was afraid. Not an unusual amount of fear, just the standard stuff. But that’s the tenor of fear we tend to disregard because it sits just below the surface largely not bothering anyone. It does its work quietly. Hinting that it would be so much nicer to just stay home tonight. Thanks anyway.            Many years ago I made a secret pact with myself. I made it with God also, but we each have different responsibilities in the deal. My end is harder to keep. I promised to accept invitations. I...

I missed my deadline this past week. I procrastinated. Lost track of the days. I know exactly why. I was uncomfortable with what I knew I had to write about: facing tragedy. There’s been so much of it lately. And it seems to be piled on top of already too much upheaval, too much world sorrow. What is there to say that doesn’t sound contrite, or worse, condescending? What advice is there to give? No heart has ever heeded the command to heal. It does it on its own time, if even then. As an optimist I know all too well; “Look on the bright side!” has its limitations. I ask myself, what is my own consolation in these times? What settles my soul when the even the planet itself appears to be angry with humanity? It’s easy to imagine the development of ancient mythological storylines where furious gods demand our undivided attention. We feel punished. Where goes the optimist then? In the Book of Jōb, when Jōb is at his lowest—his wealth, his family, his health, all gone—the first thi...

      I was living in New York City in 1993. A few blocks away from where I was having lunch one day in late February, terrorists bombed the basement of the North Tower of the World Trade Center. I felt the ground shake. I thought it was an earthquake. I was correct. Eight years later, living in my hometown of Fitchburg, Massachusetts, I was planning a short trip back into Manhattan. I had dinner reservations at the Windows on the World Restaurant on top of the North Tower booked for 8:15pm on Sept 12, 2001. On the morning of the 11th I was packing for my trip into the city when I saw the second plane hit the South Tower on the news. The North Tower, and the restaurant, were already gone. I could not immediately bring myself to think about what else was lost.       Early the next morning, New York City Mayor Rudy Giuliani urged us in his press conference to continue living. So I got on the first train to Manhattan as I had originally planned. I didn’t k...

    Dignity is a somewhat mysterious thing. It’s entangled with the concept of perfection, but more on that in a bit. The origin of the word dignity comes from the Latin dignitas meaning worthiness. Efforts to retain our dignity go far deeper than just keeping up appearances. They go to the core of our self-worth. Our sense of individual value to the world.     It’s easy to see that when someone wishes to demoralize another they almost always first seek to undermine their dignity. Hitting someone ‘below the belt’ is just such an exercise. But similarly, governments can accomplish the same through underfunded education and healthcare. Entire societies are transformed into tsunamis of refugees from war fleeing toward a shred hope of dignity in other lands. Often only to be turned away there as well. Of what value must these people feel that they retain in the world?  Very little by the way they are often regarded.     And of those w...

Meditation: The Trees are Connected       Science has concluded that forests are networks of communication. The trees talk to each other. Different species collude with one another to take over in ways that include forms of conversation and awareness. If we were to define hearing as an awareness response to a sound made, trees hear. If we define a sense of touch based upon an awareness response from coming into contact with something other than themselves, trees feel and can sense difference. If they alter themselves in some way when around people, they know we are here.       Take a deep breath and enter with me into the forest. Picture the light as it filters through the leaves. The particular shade of green. The sound of the leaves as they gently clack together in the breeze. The soft creaking of branches and limbs at sway.       You find a comfortable seat in the forest and just observe it. Inhale it. Im...