Hopeful Thinking

Today is May Day. The first day of the “lusty month of May.” That winking lyric from the Lerner and Loewe musical Camelot is a hint at the ancient observation of this month in the wheel of the year as a time for sacred recreation and, a bit more specifically, sacred procreation.  On this night bonfires are lit and children born from tonight’s unions—whether in or out of the marital bed—are tinged with sacredness for their entire lives. It is an annual tradition much older than the invention of the calendar.  We always feel a certain kind of way at certain times of the year. It is usually a reflection of the amount of sunlight, activity, social interaction, and nourishment we get in the ebb and flow of the seasons. As these individually flourish or fail we are emotionally, and probably energetically, affected by it.  Our various religious rituals, each in line with their own scriptures, address these intrinsic, annual, human concerns in their own way. The May Day Beltane ...

I got my second covid shot last Thursday. Unfortunately, I had some mild side effects, but had kept my schedule clear for two days in possible anticipation of them, so I just relented and relaxed. It wasn’t so bad. Just a couple days of achiness and fatigue. But when they ended it was like the flipping of a switch. It was just suddenly over rather than gradually improving. Not something I would have expected or have ever experienced from an actual illness.  I must admit I found my experience of the side effects to be a little emotionally jarring. In a strange way, I wanted it to behave like a regular illness. I wanted to be able to predict how my recovery would occur. The way my side effects unfolded, and then re-folded, did not happen in a way I could predict. And frankly, it annoyed me and made me feel uneasy, if I’m going to be honest. One of the more fascinating aspects of this pandemic has been the uncertainty factor. Understanding that I’m creating an unnecessary burden on th...

Whether you believe in it or not, whether you’d use the word ‘prayer’ or some other more secular descriptor, you are praying for what you’re saying. Your words matter. Every single sound that comes out of your mouth, ever, contributes to your reality. Your ears hear all of it. And most of the time other ears are listening to it too.  The brain is really fast on its feet. It can tell the difference between regular ambient sound and human language in a tenth of a second. The brain isn’t necessarily asking questions as far as who’s doing the talking. But it’s definitely paying very close and reflexive attention.  It’s listening for survival, really. And for opportunities to thrive. It acts like a bright yellow highlighter filtering out the background white noise, and making prominent all that truly matters. Spoken words are like lightning to the brain.  I’ve been thinking a lot lately about that old aphorism, “Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never harm me...

Lately, I have found myself embroiled in online discussions about politics and racism. This is not typically my way. In fact I usually go to great lengths to avoid that rabbit hole. I suppose I should get back on the wagon and stop participating in conversations that ultimately get nowhere. But it’s so tempting. My usual method is to comment on unloving posts for only two reasons. Either I feel that the person is in a position to be persuaded toward a more loving thought, or for the purpose of demonstrating kind responses to unkind words for the sake of others. Both sound fairly arrogant as I see them written here. But I do think it’s important to model loving behavior. So, arrogant or not, my hope is that the principle of inherent worth and dignity of all people is at the center of my actions.  One thing that struck me though, as I have been dipping my toes into such debates, is that I seem to be battling a tide of misinformation. I feel like I’m constantly counteracting misrepres...

  Most of us have heard of the term “hermetically sealed.” It’s a reference to a scientific procedure which seals a vessel’s contents from the outside environment. Beyond that, most of us non-academics rarely hear any reference to the person with whom that scientific procedure is associated. Mainly because we’re not one hundred percent certain that that person is actually a person. And yet, an individual most commonly referred to as Hermes Trismagistus is credited by some to be the single most important influencer in human history. Even though there was no one single person named Hermes Trismagistus, he is identified throughout human civilization by many different names ranging from the Prophet Idris in Islam to the Egyptian god Thoth.  I’m not sure what conclusions it is safe to draw from this. There are theories ranging from ancient aliens to archangels as to what this through-line of a personage might be. I am the farthest thing from an academic on the subject. But it’s wor...

I am a helper. And I often run the risk of helping too much. I want to solve things. When someone comes to me with a problem, I always want to leave them with a solution. That is both a good trait and a deep character flaw. I am reminded of a friend of mine once quoting an aphorism for which he did not know the author, but the wisdom in it merits mention even if without credit. “Weakness is merely strength in excess.”   It’s another way of saying that you can definitely have too much of a good thing. At which point it becomes a bad thing, a weakness. My desire to help people sometimes, in the past especially, has made my strength into a weakness, or at least a vulnerability. I am less easily taken advantage of now. Those lessons were learned at a price. But my desire to help remains. My desire to fix it all still ticks away in the back of my mind. I have been lucky though to have had some good teachers. They explained to me that it is not my job as a minister to fix things, bu...

Back when I was an actor I noticed an odd phenomenon about the memorization of my lines. In preparation for a show it never troubled me to memorize long bits of dialogue or song. I had a little method I devised for myself of tape recording everyone else’s lines leaving space for my own. I’d play back the tape and be my own scene partner to practice.  However, there was always a point at which I’d be the most vulnerable to forgetting all that I’d learned. Well not all, but usually the most important parts.  It was the second performance. Second night performances were always the most treacherous for my lines. Sometimes my costume changes as well, if they were particularly complicated. It got so that on the second day I’d take extra precautions to make sure I wasn’t being overconfident on the heels of a good opening night. Right now it’s possible to see a little light on the edge of the horizon. We have been through a year far more tragic than we can presently comprehend. The ea...