Lessons on Intimacy

To live in this world you must be able to do three things:
To love what is mortal;
to hold is against your bones knowing your own life depends on it;
And, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.
Mary Oliver

I write on a day of mild temperature and soft, passing clouds. I am on-call at the hospital- the day shift on Saturday which keeps me here from 8:30 am till 8:30 pm. I sit outside (always close to a door to the hospital or a phone) soaking in all that this first unit has been for me. We just completed our final evaluations of our first (of four) units that will make my full year as a chaplain resident. Feeling number one: exhaustion.
(oh! I hear sirens! May have to stop to attend to the incoming medical alert)
Back to exhaustion. The pace this year is incredibly demanding. I am on-call over night at the hospital once a week at least and also here on-call once a week during the day (sometimes on the weekend days). Our on-call schedule is on-top of our regular work hours which are supposed to be from 8:30 am to 5 pm, but I usually manage to leave around 4 or 4:30 and notice the other residents do too . Then we have weekly reflection papers and verbatim papers (analyzing an interaction with a patient/ family.
So, it’s a lot of time at work and a lot of intense experiences in that time. One good thing is I’m learning how I deal with such a crazy/ emotionally intense schedule. Meditation and prayer has become much more important for me. I notice when I haven’t meditated for several days. I feel out of touch with myself and with the Divine. Sleep is important (although that is often what I am lacking). And running. I live close to a little park that hosts big, old oak trees that have gifted me with vibrant yellows and oranges this fall. The little pond with ducks floating around and the little over-grown trails on which I run are a respite to my tired soul. There is nothing like dirt to sooth a weary soul.
Another thing I am learning is about emotional intimacy. One of the biggest lessons on being a chaplain is learning how you are with yourself in times of anger or grief, or any emotion that isn’t comfortable or familiar to you. How you are with yourself impacts how you are with others. You can see this in families- when a Grandmother, for example, is telling her daughter that it is God’s will that her child just died, you wonder how she is with accepting her own grief. Because grief for her is uncomfortable, she doesn’t know how to deal with the grief of her daughter and wants to “fix” it through a simple explanation.
As a chaplain, I am learning about my “base” self- what is most familiar to me- feeling stable and strong; feeling happy and wanting to help others feel happy and safe. Sometimes I am so attached to my “base self” that I neglect the unfamiliar, uncomfortable and unknown parts of my being that need attention and care. I tend to pass over uncomfortable feelings or “get them out” with a good run. I am so used to being the “happy and cheerful” person, I don’t know how I will be accepted by others (or myself) in times of sadness. Chaplaincy is helping me to grow other parts of myself (listening, serious parts) that connect more with people’s grief and anger.
Intimacy is paying attention to the whole of who we are- to the uncomfortable and comfortable, frightened and confident, weary and strong. It is being present with oneself and also risking sharing these things with other people.

Little snippets of my year thus far:
• Being present to the parents of a two year old who was a “roll over” (suffocated in sleep.) When they arrived at the hospital, the doctors tried five times to revive the pt, to no avail. The devastation was uncontainable. There was nothing- absolutely nothing- I could do to help sooth or make the situation any better.
• Jumping every time the pager goes off (this has happened a couple times in this writing). And the words “thank you!” exiting my mouth when “ortho-eval” reads across the pager (one of the pages we chaplains don’t have to respond to!)
• Finally at home and grateful for tears running down my cheeks after being on-call tending to a large Amish family whose ten year old son had gotten hit by a car. They had learned that his preliminary tests showed brain death.
• Talking with teens on the psych ward- sometimes feeling like I am making a difference and other times being frustrated at the insurmountable wall some of my patients have to climb to get to a place of stability and healing.
• Talking with my uncle Sandy and feeling my own grief. Sandy is one of my closest relatives who will be with us in this land of the living for only another few days, possibly weeks. I try to talk with him every day and find great comfort in hearing his voice and sensing his calm for his own death.
• Friends and kitchens. Making new friends from the swim team I joined and through my roommate Becky. Conversations floating on the wings of savory aromas in this beloved room. Kitchens are harbors for intimacy. Laughter and tears, delicious and spoiled food, warmth (ovens) and cold (freezers)- all found in this one room. Everything falls apart and comes together in kitchens.
• Vegan baked goods! The joys of living with a friend who is vegan and loves to bake! Chocolate cupcakes with frosting stacked so high the cupcakes fall over…perfectly moist zucchini bread… chocolate molasses cookies… YUM!
Well, that is all for me! Signing off before the pager scares the living day lights out of me again! Love, Cassie

Cincinnati

Cincinnati is proving itself to be a good home for me thus far. My life consists of walking to and from Cincinnati Children's Hospital (only 2 miles from my house!), trying to make midwest parks more into runner friendly places than they were meant to be (story below), picking and eating tomatoes from my roommate's garden (more on that too!), and petting my cat (trying to make myself feel better after leaving her alone most of the day as I'm at work), and plunking away at our new (antique) piano.
The cultural transitions I've experienced so far:
PARKS-after running circles around picnic tables and grills for half an hour, I finally exclaimed to Becky (my roommate), and she confirmed, that in the midwest, you go to a park to "have a good time." You go to party, hang out, grill up some good meat. Trails are short and overgrown, if they even exist. In the northwest, "park" is synonymous with trees and trails for walking, running, galloping or rolling. I am learning to like sidewalk runs all the more...
Cultural transition no. 2: RAIN.
This is weird, because when you think of Seattle, you think... rain, right? But it's not actually rain like the rain here. It's mist. or cloud that is really wet and drips down sometimes. When it rains here, you can't actually do much. And if you are driving 70 mph on the highway, then, well, let's just say I was praying.
Cultural transition no. 3: TOMATOES.
If you aren't ready to talk about tomatoes, or eat tomatoes for that matter, at least three times a day, then you will have a hard time living here. People here not only love their tomatoes, but, after seeing splattered tomatoes in the road, use them for such things as pranks or decorations.

I have met my chaplain resident team and feel good about them and my supervisor, all of whom I will be getting to know in fairly intense ways this year. My feeling right now (work really starts on Tuesday) is actually quite a bit of nervousness. I am scared I won't be a good chaplain. Afraid I won't grow, won't be able to find/ harness the skills I need to be a good spiritual carer for someone dealing with tremendous loss and change.
I've also noticed that it's been hard for me to really rest since coming. Its been fun to move in with a good friend, set up my room, explore new places. But it's been hard for me to relax. Maybe because I have so many unknowns, and have yet to make this place home. I am really really hoping that will change. I know that if I am going to survive this year, it will be at least because I have learned how to find deep rest in this city.

Green in my Soul

Green in my soul
savor this color
easy to desire wholeness
completeness
certainty
fog kisses the mountain tops
shades of gray kiss my soul

On top of Blue Mountain
we are surrounded by cloud
white and blue and gray move in and out,
breathing as the ocean breathes
glimpses of the land come and go
a dance of vision
a breath of senses

Something so holy hidden in a cloud
fog with stone,
smooth, sharp, purposeful stone

One moment clarity abides
the next, a mystery

Savor the green in your soul
the places of unknowing
with every breath, mountain loving fog
fog changing mountain

From the top of Blue Mountain
I arrive at another trail junction
now walls, not fog, surround me
But mystery awaits
in rooms and hallways,
in hearts and bodies and minds and longings
In prayers and diagnoses
In birth and death

I want to be a chaplain already perfect, confident, sure
But let me cradle my green
My own fog of sacred youth
and wander these halls with stone and fog together

Trail Magic

One of the gifts that I came to appreciate while hiking on the Pacific Crest Trail for 12 days (and carrying food and supplies for 12 days as well) is floating in water. What an incredible thing. For hours we go around, holding our own weight or a thirty-five pound back-pack on your hips and shoulders. And then, given a couple feet of water, you learn release. Suddenly you don't even have to carry the weight of your own head. Tilt your head back and let the water hold you. Spin, gently, and feel your heart open to the sky.
Lakes and rivers deep enough to float in were such a treasure on the PCT. While swimming in Pike Lake near White Pass, I came across two little purple flower blossoms, floating out from shore. A beautiful blue dragonfly chose my arm to be its landing spot. A family of ducks quacked their way to a humorous landing in the lake.
With sore feet and longing heart, these gifts mean the world to me.

When you backpack, you learn about a thing called "trail magic." Trail magic is when you are given food freely. You may have asked for it, or it was just offered, but either way, you end up with more food because of the generosity of another hiker, known as a trail angel. Sometimes, when hikers are the benefactors of trail magic, they want to, shall we say, pay it forward. One such couple set up a five gallon bucket on the PCT and filled it with everything hikers dream of- snickers, pay days, nutter butter cookies, goldfish crackers, recees peanut butter cups, and more. They keep it maintained and have a little log book for hikers to sign. You would not believe the joy this little bucket of goodies gives hikers (myself included)!!!

There is something so special about unexpected gifts. Within the first few days of our trip, Tamara and I came across an early huckleberry patch. Ripe huckleberries in July!!! Gifts unexpected make you pause. They help you remember where you and and what you love. They remind us that productivity is not the sole purpose of our days, but that joy and thanksgiving are part of the breath by which we live.

The PCT

There is nothing like hiking for 12 days to make you appreciate the little conveniences in life. Not only flush toilets, but the absence of biting mosquitos while pooping. Chairs. Running water that is not only relatively easy to access but ready to drink (no filtering required!). Water is a big one, as my friend Tamara and I hiked during the record-breaking heat of Seattle's summer. The experience sure made me not take for granted the sacred significance of running water, and the incredibly resting feeling of being able to wash oneself in cool, clean water.
We hiked from Cascade Locks on the Columbia River to Chinook Pass near Mt Rainier. 187 miles in 12 days. That rounds to about 15-18 miles a day. While it was nice to be able move all day, I am glad to not be spending the entirety of my day walking.
The trip was gorgeous. We passed through Mt. Adams Wilderness and the Goat Rocks (just South of Mt. Rainier.) I miss the rhythm I felt I was just beginning to unite with- of waking and reclining with the sun, filtering water, opening my senses to nature's surprises, and sitting in the dirt. It was exhilarating to be able pass mountains. We would see Mt. Adams and Rainier so far in the distance, and then, after a couple days of hiking in the valley, the trail would lead us up, and we would suddenly be resting at the base of such an enormous creation. A creation alive with lava and melting snow (and glaciers- let's lighten our carbon footprints, folks!!) and moving rock. And the wildflowers... we must have hit them at their peak, for not only were they a treasure for our eyes, but also our nose. With the lupin abounding, we were in flower fragrance heaven.
Having never been backpacking for longer than five days, the sheer length of our trip was new to me. Thoughts of food and few other things filled my mind as we walked. I was amused by what became important to my hiking partner and me, in comparison to what many people are concerned about in Western culture.
What hikers care about:
- their poops
- their pee (color, frequency)
- water access
- copyright date of the trail guide book
- trail signs!
- of course, food
- going to bed before dark

What hikers don't care about:
- their odor
- being caught naked
- asking people for food
- privacy
- sweating in front of others

Well, that wraps up my very enlightening, I'm sure, entry! Yay for rain in Seattle!! (it is so weird to be writing that!)

Kansas

I did not expect to fall so completely in love with Kansas. The sweet prairie air. The plethora of stars. The deep, deep green that comes after months of rain. Dad and I visited my Godmother and Great Aunt, Bonnie in Saint Francis, Kansas. Even though he hadn't been there in years, he knew, intuitively, exactly where her house was. (It helps that St. Francis' downtown spans the grand expanse of a few blocks and it's outlying neighborhood reaches only several slow roads beyond that). A little bird was waiting for us on Bonnie's porch. We knew we had guessed correctly.
Bonnie was waiting for us with a bowl full of cherries and a smile that soared off her face and into her neighbor's back yard. It was so good to see her, one of the precious people in my life with whom I feel a real soul connection. I don't really remember what we talked about, but that was not what was important- it was her deep understanding of me, and me of her, that was so refreshing.
We then continued onto Hays, Kansas where Bonnie's daughter Ione and her husband Mike live. If I could marry a place, I think it would be their front yard. (And Ione and Mike too!) Tall trees stretch towards the crescent moon, hanging low in the warm blue sky. Frogs and crickets adorn the night with beauty and laughter from the kitchen kisses the sleepy prairie to rest.

Home meet Cassie, Cassie, Home

I have found that the weather changes just as much in May in Cincinnati, Ohio as it does in the rainy season in Oakland, California. It goes from a little less humid to really humid, cloudy to sunny, and then thunder-stormy and rainy all within an hour or less. I am sitting at Rohs Street Cafe, just a couple blocks from my new home. It feels so good to call this place home. It came so quickly and completely for me. My room has three long windows and a ceiling fan that whirs quietly and comfortingly. Light fills my room screaming "WELCOME!" at the top of its lungs. The walls beg for my adornments and my bed carries my tired body.
Rest.
Laughter.
Gourmet vegan food.
Green growing things.

Rest embraces me like a cool cascade
falling over me, my spirit, overflowing, falls into this refuge of rest.

Farmers Market Blessing

On Tuesday it was kind-of rainy. In the bay area, when it is cloudy, you can't ever depend on the weather staying the same from moment to moment or block to block. I was at school and needed some fresh bread and veggies so biked to the farmers market. It just so happened that it was lunch time and I was hungry and there was a really yummy-looking mexican food stand just standing there, waiting for my hungry belly and wallet. So, I ordered two taquitos with fresh avocado salsa, black beans and rice (remember, I said HUNGRY!). Then, there was the problem of where to sit. They hadn't set up the table and chairs due to the intermittent rain (it was not raining at that moment, and I was praying it would hold long enough for me to eat lunch). SO, I found a Safeway plastic bag in my bag and sat on the curb, feasting.
The light was just magical. The rain had made everything just stand on end with vibrant green. The clouds were moving and light and dark and everything in between. There was a good size stream of rain water running down the side of the road, by the curb where I sat. And then about 10 kids probably around the age of five came to where I was sitting. They were probably on a field trip, or getting outside to let out some energy during this brief rest of rain. One kid saw the stream of water and the curb. I could see his thought wheels turning. Suddenly he started running towards me. I held my food close. Run, run, run, leap over the water and onto the curb. He turned around with a huge grin on his face. The others turned their attention to this fun game and joined in, running and jumping over the stream and onto the curb. "I can fly! I can fly!" they all started chanting as they ran. I was enthralled. Ok, I was also a little worried that one of them would fall and splash the rain water all over my precious lunch, but the entertainment was hard to beat. The teacher woman looked over at me empathetically as she tried to get the kids to jump a little further away from me. I told her that it was fine and fun to be surrounded by kids and I could move if I wanted.
More than fun, it was kind-of a public, impromptu blessing. I was worn and feeling burnt out and here was this wave of energy and excitement for life buzzing, singing and leaping all around me. The rain and damp air were my water and the kids my ministers for this strange kind-of baptism I had fallen into.
I also noticed another, younger girl who was not part of the group but there with her father looking longingly at this fun game happening. Her dad asked her if she wanted to jump and she timidly nodded her head. They walked over and he held her hand and she tried it out. This was a challenge that the kids had plunged into with intense playfulness. It was kind-of scary (for me sitting there in the target line, and for the little girl who was a little smaller and newer to the game), but that didn't mean joy and fun couldn't be added to the challenge.
As someone who often takes life too seriously, getting weighed down by the seeming enormity of challenges, I so savored this little blessing of farmers market children on this rainy spring day.

Being open to the movement

Some mornings I wake up and am enwrapped in sweetness. In love of life and love and God... I love it when that happens! And this morning is one of those days. When I was doing my little morning movement prayer thing, the words, "be open to the movement" came to me. I thought they were funny because they can have so many different meanings, which I like.
Right then I was thinking about what I had to do today. I was (and possibly still am) planning on going swimming after aikido, but my body feels like resting. Maybe today will be a rest day... I think sometimes I get so caught up in schedule and lists of things to do, to get done, that I don't open myself the movement of what my body wants, and what the earth, Spirit, day is saying through my body.
I also just saw the movie "Milk." Last week I went to "the city" (San Francisco) and say Milk in the Castro theatre, which is this large old-fashioned movie theatre. It was sooooooooo cool! The movie theatre we were in was actually in the movie, which was even more awesome (it takes place in the Castro). Oh my gosh, what a good movie! One of the things that struck me was how you couldn't separate Harvey Milk from the movement. I thought of this when I was wondering how Harvey kept his ego in check. I wonder this about famous people in general- so many people just loved him, and he was so critical to the successes of defeating Proposition 6 and to spreading hope for gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender people across the country. But Harvey probably knew that he was an much indebted to the movement has the movement was to him. It wasn't all on his shoulders- he was riding the crest of a wave that had started long before him and is continuing now. I think there is something really freeing about that- the "being significant and insignificant" all at the same time. We make our mark perhaps because of the openness and readiness of the people around us. And we are marked because of the qualities espoused by another person, but also because we are open and ready for such qualities.
Another cool thing about that movie is afterwards I really felt like my life and my body came from somewhere. I don't come from a void. History and social movements in this country have shaped how I think about myself, what I am passionate about, and what I can DO in this world. It's wonderful to feel part of history.
Last Tuesday I went to Sacramento for a hearing on Proposition 8. Senator Leno had made a resolution (#7) to the legislature saying that the legislature would state an opinion, and that being that Proposition 8 changes the constitution. While the legislature actually has little real power in how the court decides this, the difference between amend and revise (or change) is hugely significant, and is what is going to the courts this week. If Prop 8 revises the constitution, then proper process pre-election was not followed and the whole thing is invalid. If it is a simple amendment, then it stands. Ok, off to scarf down breakfast!

like the weather- feelings move through too

Last night I felt a spirit in my room. It helped that it was windy and stormy outside, and that there was something making tiny little rustling sounds somewhere underneath my bed. Monsters, perhaps...
When I woke up this morning, it was gone- that feeling. I went for a run and there was sun breaking through the clouds at times. I felt like it really was a new day- not just another day, but a new one. I felt like I had somehow returned to myself, or to someplace I loved and felt at home in.
Self-doubt and feelings of nothingness have been my companions this year and last fall. I thought I would do a ritual to get rid of them. For my birthday, perhaps. You know, strip down and jump in some cold body of water. That would do it- no more doubt and self-criticism. Strip- relinquish- gone. the end.
My Spiritual Director (kind-of like a therapist person, but more spiritually oriented) smiled as I told her about my plans for a ritual. Then she asked me what these feelings look like. I realized they had a form. A very cartoon-like form, in fact. My self-doubt and feelings of nothingness are embodied in a little long-haired furry creature who has two tiny feet and two tiny hands that barely stick out of his gray fur. With two big eyes and not much expression at all. Just a strong attitude of nothingness. Sometimes this little guy sits on my shoulder. Sometimes he gets right down and personal and gets inside my heart.
Once I realized my feelings had a creature to go with them, then they didn't seem so heavy. I could TALK to them, by golly!
It seems like the harder I tried to convince myself that I was "over" my bouts of depression and feelings of worthlessness, the quicker they turned around and stuck right to me.
I don't know whether I have achieved some sort-of "healthy" relationship with my feelings, but I am savoring feeling at home in myself right now. And it does help to not ignore my less-than-loved parts of me. Hell, I could make a comic strip out of them! Or write a valentine to them!

Evaluation, part II

I am sitting with this new feeling kept right about where my rib cage parts above my tummy. It feels like when you take a bite of cake that's a little too sweet- it makes your throat almost tickle with the sweetness. That's the feeling I got right now, excpet a little deeper. I get the same feeling when I have a big crush on someone. Except now I believe my crush is on me-as-minister.
Wow. Affirmation really helps my own self-image and confidence about the "me-as-minister" me. I didn't realize how much it would empower me to more deeply believe that this journey I'm on is a powerful one, not only for me, but for the world as well. With that one "granted candidacy" verdict, I feel so much more committed to this journey.
One of the other things I learned about myself in preparing for this interview is that I do much better when I allow myself to just feel what I am feeling. Much of the time, that was nerves. OH MY GOD, did nerves ever strike me! The couple days prior to the interview were largely unstructured, which I thought would be good- give me time to review my various evaluations, psychological report, etc. Perhaps this was good, but when alone, I am much more vulnerable to being overwhelmed by nervousness.
One of my responses was to convince myself of why I shouldn't be nervous. Remind myself of all my experiences and knowledge and ministerial qualities. This helped sometimes, but what most calmed me, was, perhaps surprisingly for the non-Buddhists among us, to accept my nervousness. To connect with my feelings as they were in the moment. This was the most helpful thing. It's like my feelings of anxiety and fear needed some validation or recognition in order to be released.
Another moment of grace that brushed my cheek in the weeks prior to this interview/ rite of passage was a message a dear friend of mine left on my phone. I was on my way home from Cincinnati (after interviewing for a chaplain resident position at Cincinnati Children's hospital (which I GOT!!)), I listened to a new voice mail during my lay-over in Salt Lake City. My friend is fifteen and is part of the youth group at Wallingford United Methodist Church, the church I grew up in and am still a member of. She was trying to describe to another friend of hers how she could be Christian and not believe in hell. She wondered if I, too, did not believe in hell, and was hoping to talk with me about it. Who? Me?? Wh-... oh yeah... seminary, friendship, commitment.
It was then that I realized that even if the committee did not pass me, I was already a minister. I have my whole life, the knowledge I've gained from dear friends, and years at seminary to remind me of my responsibility to reciprocate the gifts I have been given. While getting approved certainly helps, every day opens to millions of opportunities to return to the world a portion of what I have received.

Evaluation

Right now I'm good. Cool. Relaxed. Ready. But where was this feeling three hours ago? My process of preparing myself, psychologically, spiritually, mentally, and physically for the Regional Subcommittee on Candidacy has been quite the journey. I don't want to forget all the different phases I have traveled through (repeatedly sometimes) to this night, two nights before my interview. Three hours ago I wanted to scream. I wanted to crawl out of my skin and run away. Hide. Something to get away from the pervasive feeling of unworthiness and fear.
One of the things that helped was actually accepting those feelings. (Cassie, this is a high-stakes interview! This is the FIRST really high-stakes interview you've had in your life! Of course you will be scared, nervous, concerned!) Once I validated my feelings, they magically became softer, more manageable, less powerful.
ah. breathe.
The other thing that helped was Aikido. Tonight was a basics class and I found myself teaching a lot. I was one of the more advanced students (which is unusual- usually I am closer to the "new" side.) I DO have knowledge and I CAN share it with others and when I do, it HELPS people. How neat. Sometimes, it is just important to remember that.
One of my bigger "growing edges" as we like to call them at Starr King, is claiming my "ministerial authority" (another term in seminary). On the reverse, I have problems with timidity. I had a realization today. I think a lot of my timidness comes from pursuing such a life-absorbing career at a relatively young age. A lot of things (like this interview process) are new to me, and I am very much in the learning stage, and less in the "I confidently know what I'm doing" stage. I can get there. I have gotten there. I just need to remember how I grew last year during my internship. How I was with people who faced a death of a loved one, or who were struggling with a teenage child. But one thing I am not willing to do is make my timid nature an evil. Even my more raw parts of myself can become great treasures for my ministry and I truly believe that being a beginner is a precious and valuable thing in society. When I translate timidity to being new, there is a resource for me as a minister. I can really connect with people as they enter life transitions, facing change and new beginnings.
There are parts of timidity I want to leave behind. Lack of self-knowledge and self-love. I can dismantle these by, wild guess, getting to know myself and loving myself more completely.
Another part of my process of preparing for this interview has been through dreams. Two nights ago I had a dream where I was in a car with a few other friends and we were trying to find this house where there was going to be a special ceremony (possibly Islamic ceremony, but I forget). This place was in unknown territory and we had this tiny map and it was dark and we couldn't see it very well. We were using our intuition, and suddenly the road became very very steep. So steep that the car could not motor itself up it; we had to push the car up the hill. The road was actually made of pizza dough. At the bottom of the hill, the dough was baked. It was easier to drive/ crawl up it- there was more texture and sturdiness. As we got closer to the top of the hill, the pizza dough was not quite baked all the way through. When you pulled on it, it would stretch. It was slower going, but it still worked. We still were able to get to the top of the hill by pulling on the more doughy dough.
Last week I caught myself wishing that I was thirty something and already formed. I had worked through all of my "growing edges" and was very settled in my body and who I was. I had magically skipped all the growing stages and was more of the finished product. I then became very sad. What a loss! What a tragedy to skip over all the lessons and experiences of growing and figuring out who one is! That is one of the most precious parts of life- and to wish it away??!
I think of myself as the dough that's towards the top of the hill- not quite baked all the way, still a little doughy. I'm not incapable. Even though the dough is more elastic than the baked dough at the bottom of the hill, it still assisted the caravan in getting to the top. It just took a little more time. There are times when I need more time. More time to learn and reflect. More time to savor the privilege of being a beginner.
And then, sometimes (more often than I realize) I DO have authority and I just gotta OWN it! (Prayers are appreciated if you read this before Sat, the 31st at 3 pm.)

Language

Life post Rumi immersion doesn't always take me further away from my experiences in Turkey, but sometimes helps me to understand parts better. One memory has stuck around for a while and is begging "blog-space:"
After eating out at this exquisite restaurant in Konya (I am still not over the delicate and perfectly spiced eggplant dishes in Turkey!), some of us decided to go to this zikr several blocks from the Dervish Brothers House. This was our first "zikr out." We walked down this side entrance walk to the glass sliding door where we could hear the drumming. The zikr was well underway. There were restrooms outside and Laurie and I exchanged glances after using them- we'll just say they weren't the cleanest in the world, and the good, old fashioned squat down style. (Actually, I think the squat down style is much more efficient and ergonomically correct than seated toilets).
We had to wait just a few minutes before we could enter for some people to leave (they had reached the carrying capacity of the room). And, actually, It was a good think we went pee, because there was hardly any room to breathe inside, let alone have a full bladder! We sat down in the back (the women were in the back, and the men in the front, close to the instrumentalists and the Shayk.
It was a hot zikr. (Hot, not in temperature, but in energy). People were swaying their heads really strongly and some people were sweating. I just sat there, annoyed with my legs and wishing I could dig a hole in the floor so they would have some place to go. A woman started gasping for air behind me, more urgent and stronger than people do when in the midst of a chant. I looked back and realized she was in another room, separated by a half-wall, and I could not see her. From what I could see, people in the back room were surrounding her, helping her calm down. It was kind-of scary. I was actually convinced that she was in labor and about to give birth, right there, in the middle of a zikr. (I later realized this was not the case). I returned to absorbing the scene of the zikr around me.
After forty five minutes or so, the zikr ended and some people left, but others stayed, talking and sitting around. Shams, Cathy, and I waited to see if something else would happen. Something else surely did happen, and it was really fun trying to figure it out, as the clues dropped, one by one. A couple people came out with rolls of butcher paper, throwing the roll down the room and making a long strip of paper spread on the floor. Oh! Body painting?? Line dancing? They did this two other times to make three rows. People gathered around the rows. Then other people came out with plates full of fruit- oranges, apples, and bananas, mangoes, kiwis... Napkins and knives for cutting came out. Then, people just started cutting and peeling the fruit. Just as soon, pieces of fruit started getting passed around. I had already started on an orange for myself, so I refused the first couple of offers. But I soon realized that the point wasn't to fill up on fruit. The point was to give food to other people. Folks were almost funny with how much they wanted to share the fruit. There was so much fruit getting cut up and passed around, people couldn't eat all of it. People started tossing apples slices across the room to the other tables of paper. The people sitting next to Cathy, Shams, and I were from Germany or some Scandanavian country, we believe. They knew a little English, so we spoke a few words to each other. But more than words, what I remember about our interaction was our communicating through the sharing of food, and their seemingly silly (from my individualist U.S. perspective) desire to share with abandon.