A WHITE MAN MURDERED BY ANOTHER WHITE MAN AND, THANK GOD, AUTUMN STILL CAME

 

The problem with writing about falling leaves, multi-hued pansies, heirloom pumpkins and the beauties of the season--those little ordinary things where our hearts can rest--is that here in the United States, Donald Trump et al are making it so much harder for We the People to flourish.  

So let me admit, that is our background.  That is what colors all we do, those millions of us who are not MAGA Republicans, who think and worry and work every day to ensure that our children get vaccinated, that COVID shots remain available, that cancer research grants are restored, that our neighbors are safe from ICE and off-site Gulags, and that voters are heard.  It's no small task since never before have the President and his supporters worked to destroy democracy.   1984 by George Orwell is no longer science fiction.  When you read, or reread, it, you will see the outcome of giving up.  Giving up, as they say, is unforgivable.  Or, in less judgmental language, not an option.  The next national #NoKings rally is October 18--find the one near you!  Nothing is more inspirational that to remember that the 1% is just that.  

This week Charlie Kirk was murdered.  Another victim of gun violence by another young white man discontent for some reason, it doesn't matter what.  But because Charlie was a right-winger who hated blacks and trans people and gay men and women and people from Latin American countries and Mexico, the United States flag was at half-mast.  Shame, that. We have had 100 school shootings thus far, and no flag was ordered half-mast for these innocent children. 

And what happens while all this goes on?  Well, at my house the dogwood have turned red.  At my house the frogs are as loud as they were in Spring.  The humidity has lifted and we open the doors and windows.  No heat or AC.   The meadow is ready for its last cut of the season.  The fire pit will be used soon, maybe this weekend if evenings are chill.  I am so looking forward to long nights and short days.  All the things I posted last, the things I love that are the same every year, are splayed before me.  Before you is splayed the same.   

At my house, like yours, children and grandchildren are the light of our life.  We cook, we pick fresh herbs, we fold laundry, we work, we clean gutters, we take care of family, we love friends.  There is no magic.  There is faith, if we have it.  There is activism if we are so inclined.  And yes, we are not giving up but while we gather and rally and vote, we will enjoy the sweetness of autumn, the "season of mists and mellow fruitfulness."  We will live in this duality of things.  We will resist, we will not despair, we will flourish.  This we will do.

In peace, Nina Naomi 

 

 

EVERY YEAR I LOVE THE SAME THINGS

 

Every year I love the same things

My lover from long ago 'till now

My own self, my body small

My God who keeps me whole

The place I live (and die) and thrive 

All of it, tree and deer, hawk and boulder

 

Every year I love the moon

Giving light in rhythm 

Every year the holy sun 

In my early window peacefully rising 'till I awake

Every year my morning tea, my time with phone or book

Or paper to hold blessings, longings, fears 

 

Those too the same each year

The blessing of long life, long marriage, steadfast God

The blessing of people who love me back

The blessing of my mind not yet confused or shallow

The longing for safety and the thoughts that wound to quickly pass

I tell them, "You I have survived."

 

The fear of future loss I have not felt

The blessings seem firmer

Nearer now I write them down

The movement of a prayer

A telling

                                  Nina Naomi 

  

THINGS THAT MIGHT MAKE YOU FEEL CALM, IN NO ORDER AT ALL

 

Eastern Tiger Swallowtail, Lantana

THINGS THAT MIGHT YOU FEEL CALM RIGHT NOW, IN NO ORDER AT ALL 

Open your door to the morning Fall air, expansive and cool

Go to bed with windows open, covers under chin as the night air deepens

Listen to the bounty of sounds from the morning birds 

In the afternoon, Watch a butterfly (or two) enjoy Early Fall 

Have an easy supper, maybe leftovers or carry-out or sandwiches

Skip the news.  Tell yourself, "I won't miss a thing,  it will be there tomorrow/next week/forever."

Scroll only on something entertaining.

Don't scroll at all

Have lunch or coffee with a friend

Make a plan to keep up with your family 

pay a compliment

Start a brief conversation with a stranger

Cuddle your partner, Mom, child or pet

Feel love, share body warmth

hold someone's hand, give someone a gentle touch

Read, meditate or pray

go outside yourself and your own fears, give them to God or to the universe

don't believe everything you think

Ask for forgiveness and let something go

Be tender with yourself, breathe and let something go 

Do a few chores and enjoy a clean bedroom, house, patio, or porch

Arrange your things in a way that pleases you, admire what you've done

Sit outdoors and look around you, up at a tree, at the homes on your street; at the dogs, who are always excited to be alive

Be present, pay attention

Take a walk, take your time 

Feel a part of whatever is near you--other people, animals, trees and the moving air 

Follow the path of the sun, in your morning windows, across the sky as the shade moves from side-to-side, then as the sky lights up at sunset 

Watch for the rising moon.  Note it's stage.  Admire its steadfastness in being reliably there for us each night as the sun sets.

learn more about the night sky, let the stars open your mind to the vastness above

    This is a list without limit.  Other ways to feel calm?  Baking, exercising, jogging, journaling, creating. When we realize the many things that correct our equilibrium, we wonder, why aren't we more calm?  Calmness is such a wonderful feeling--not anxious, panicked, Topsy-turvy.  We should cultivate it, shouldn't we?  We know what the world is like.  We know the challenges we face.  In America we see or read them every day in the news.  how much easier it is to save ourselves and those around us if we can maintain some calm.  The ole British saying when the world as they knew it was crumbling from German bombs in WWII, is a good one:  "Keep Calm and Carry On."  Carrying on doesn't mean ignore the bombs and hang out the wash.  For us it probably means, "Hang out the wash and save our democracy."  

I know if I watch the moon tonight, cuddle with my husband, and wake up to the sun in my east-facing window and the birds welcoming the day, I will be calm enough to do what needs to be done.  So will you. 

We can do this.  Nina Naomi  

   

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"THE LIMITS OF YOUR LONGING," Rainer Maria Rilke

 

GO TO THE LIMITS OF YOUR LONGING

                                    by Rainer Maria Rilke

God speaks to each of us as he makes us, then walks with us silently out of the night.

These are the words we dimly hear:

You, sent out beyond your recall, go to the limits of your longing.  Embody me.  

Flare up like a flame and make big shadows I can move in.

Let everything happen to you:  beauty and terror.  Just keep going.  No feeling is final.

Don't let yourself lose me.

Nearby is the country they call life.  You will know it by its seriousness.

Give me your hand.

                                                                            published 1905 

 

Not many poets take on the persona of God, but Rilke does.  German poet Rainer Maria Rilke assumes the divine voice of God as he imagines what is said to each of us when God launches us into being.  The poem is written in the imperative.  Do this, do that.  "Go to the limits of your longing."  "Flare up like a flame." "Let everything happen to you."  "[K]eep going."

Since God is speaking to us, we are invited to be listeners.  As readers, we are invited to wonder, is this the message I received as I moved into this world?  Is this the message my descendants will receive?  What does it mean?

We can see that this poem is not tricky.   Profound, hopeful, conversational, but not tricky.  Each reader of a poem makes their own picture.  What you receive from this poem is as valid as what I or anyone else receives.  

The picture I see is God sending someone--me or you, our child or grandchild, or someone years' hence, one of our descendants--out of the void and into the world.  Maybe the void is our mothers' wombs.  Maybe long before that, somewhere in the universe of galaxies.  God walks with us to where life begins (the country nearby "they call life") and tells we will know it by its seriousness.  Interesting, no? The poet's God sees Life as Serious and we can't go back.

But seriousness is not a bad thing.  Surely life is not frivolous.  All our thoughts, emotions, the love we give and receive, the losses we face.  Yes, life is serious.  Yes there is both beauty and terror and no feeling is final.  God tells us, "Embody me."  Not a casual thing at all.  To embody God is profound.  

At the same time, there is great feeling in life.  We soar sometimes, we reach heights we didn't envision.  God tells us to go to the limits of our longing, flare up like a flame.  This might sound exciting, or it might sound fearful.  How will we find the limits or our longing?  Might that take a lifetime?  Surely with God's help we can find what we long for.  We are told to keep God close, "Don't let yourself lose me."  If this frightens us, God offers to take our hand.  The last words we hear, dimly, are "Give me your hand." 

What I have written is the explication of a poem. There is no magic in that.  Many can explicate poems.  The magic, or miracle, is that Rilke said all of this in 10 lines.  He spoke as the Divine, giving us hope about the terrors we might encounter, reminding us that God walks with us walk hand-in-hand from the moment He sends us into the world.  No need to read this explication ever again.  But the poem?  It's worth rereading, perhaps learning by heart.  That way we will remember to make big shadows for God to move in.  

Nina Naomi 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THE SIMPLEST JOYS

 

The simplest joys are often our surroundings.   Our homes filled with things we love, our gardens, the views out our windows, the walks we take. If we can share with someone we love, we are even happier. This week I got to do some of that: share a beach week with a grandson)  Favorite people, favorite places.  

After he left, not to return till semester break, I sat on the deck telling the sky how I felt. It's said that we all have inner dialogues.  About a quarter of us also talk out loud to ourselves. How many talk to the sky or a tree I have no idea.  Certainly we talk to our pets. But this was a week to be drawn to the sky, the ever-present, ever-changing sky.  

As always, the big sky was telling the ocean what to do, "Change to blue now, now gray. . . . Waves, watch the moon."   Yesterday on the top deck listening to the waves, I saw the clouds on my left striated in long horizontal lines; on my right they were puckered.  Straight ahead they puffed up in irregular shapes along the horizon.  There can't be anything finer to look at.  And this is every day out of each of our back doors.  We can be anywhere and find the sky.

Unlike a museum or city, the sea or the mountains or a lake, we don't have to travel, plan ahead, or spend a cent.  We can always find a patch of blue. From a rooftop, on a plane trip, at the ocean, or just out the window between our curtains. It's one of those things we too often take for granted I suspect, the magnificent undulating dome above our heads as far as we can see or imagine. Wouldn't it be wonderful to be an astronomer or atmospheric scientist and give daily attention to the sky?

I know I often mention gratitude, or thankfulness, but even curiosity is enough.  All we need do is give ourselves to moments of observation.  Then more moments.  Then more.  The simplest of joys.  

                            In peace, Nina Naomi    

 

 

 

GRATITUDE FOR A GOOD WEEK

  The Lord is my strength and my shield; in him my heart trusts, and I am helped; my heart exults, and with my song, I give thanks to him.  Psalm 28:7

 

Someone explained the difference between gratitude and thankfulness.  Gratitude is what you feel when you are sick and a friend brings you soup and straightens your house.  Thankfulness is a way of looking at the world and consciously noticing things that make you feel thankful, even in dark times.  The concepts are interlinked. 

Times are dark in America.  Our democracy, science, health and economy are all under threat.   For most of us, our eyes are wide open to this.  We spend time learning to navigate the darkness.  We wrestle with whether we're doing enough.  We decide how much time to give to activism, how much to the suffering of others, how much to our own well-being and families. And yet, I haven't met anyone who is broken, and not because they are ignoring the challenge we face.  

People keep rising up.  They, we, continue with an attitude of thankfulness; we are consistently grateful, sometimes for what others are doing, sometimes for small pluses in our own lives.  Speaking only for myself, the peace of God that I feel at this scary time in our country, really does pass all understanding.  It is beyond rhyme or reason that while knowing the risks to medical research, fairness, minorities, refugees and beyond from this administration, hope and trust don't falter and wonderful things happen everyday. 

Maybe the Lord is my strength and shield and maybe yours too.  Maybe there is only one God with different names and different traditions, giving us the strength to endure and fight injustice.  Maybe God is there for those who don't believe as well as those who do, because the love of God is there for all.  

Sometimes you have a really good week and this was one for me.  Nothing that special except that a grandson came to the beach where we are to spend some time with us before he heads off, back to university.  He will be far from North Carolina, in Scotland.  Like the rest of the family, we will miss him.  We're one of  millions of families who may not see their college-age kids 'till Thanksgiving or Christmas.  With all that's going on in the world, this is not a big thing, a first-world problem that doesn't involve starvation or deportation or any physical hardship at all.

Or, one might say, with all that's going on in the world, this is a big thing--to have a good week.  To have time with family anywhere, but especially this past week with Hurricane Erin offshore causing resoundingly loud waves and spray that settles in your hair and on your body. 

And if we were to guess, I bet all of us had some good happen this week.  Not that we ignore the plight of many in our country, but that we carry an attitude of thankfulness and look for and recognize for what we can be grateful.  I was grateful for a wild and majestic ocean and a hurricane that went back out to sea without touching down anywhere.   We were grateful to walk down to the sittum and join locals gathered to watch the waves, sharing their memories of other storms and hurricanes.  In this mostly red corner of our state there lives a beach community that is less divided than connected.  All are drawn to the sea, that very sea created on the Third Day according to Genesis. 

A red flag warns of danger and not just at sea.  We can be grateful for warnings, whether they prompt us to care for our democracy or for our safety on shore.  May the Lord be our strength and our shield, and that forever.  AMEN     

 Nina Naomi

 

 

THE TENDERNESS OF LISTENING

  

Are you sometimes doing too many things you don't want to do?  Too much time with the news, managing the household, doing errands, sitting in traffic?  Today I spent an hour sorting through a financial issue and I'm lucky it didn't take longer.  We've never been masters of our time.  And that doesn't even count work.  Or, to whine a bit more, it doesn't count the state of American politics or, even bigger, the health of our family and friends.  I wonder if you need help as often as I do.   

One way to face hard times is to rely on our faith.  I mention that first because sometimes we may only remember to let God enfold us when all else has failed.  We forget that faith is not just for when one of us is at the hospice door.  I usually remember to give my fears to God somewhere later along the worry continuum than first.  To ask God to help, save, comfort and defend whoever I am worried about, including me. 

 I also have a book that teaches mindfulness-based compassionate living.  Its called A Book That Takes Its Time, An Unhurried Adventure in Creative Mindfulness (flowmagazine.com; Workman.com), but there are many.  Mine is the kind of mindfulness workbook you can dip into and it seems to respond to whatever mood you bring to it.  If you happen to be sad, as I have been from time to time lately, it tends to help.  Knowing why you're sad or anxious or whatever emotion needs your attention, can mitigate those feelings, let them pass as feelings always do.  

The last chapter in this thoughtful book is called "Time to be Kind."  Most of my marginalia is in this chapter, jottings and underlines.  Who can't learn more about when and how to be kinder?  One person who needs kindness is ourself.  Experts say that more compassion, both for self and others, makes us worry less and makes us happier.  Compassion isn't judgment; maybe it's the opposite.  But for sure it's listening.  If we're not sleeping well or can't concentrate, we might need an emotional rebalance.  We might need to make our world smaller (stay home, garden and cook, be tender . . . ) or larger (spend more time with others who also need help, tell a friend how we're feeling, be tender . . . ).  Only listening to our bodies will let us know which.  Most of us are strong enough not only to listen to ourselves, but also give this gift to someone else.

We know that life is a balance of highs and lows, joys and griefs.  We have ourselves and each-other.  We  have today.  We have a body to temporarily house our soul which is ever-lasting. We have God and our faith.  This isn't scarcity, this is abundance. 

There's a mantra that to me goes well with my faith (or yours or none).  I don't know if I read it or thought of it myself, but it seems to complement our quest to live with kindness and compassion.   Just words to bring us back from the anxiety that floats in, under and around us these days.  The mantra is Seek, Believe, Trust, Hope.  It's a reminder to do just that:  seek (breathe), believe (breathe), trust(breathe), hope (breathe). 

Thank you for listening.  

Nina Naomi