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.

Picasa Web Albums - Cassie - Rumi Immersion

Picasa Web Albums - Cassie - Rumi Immersion