Category Archives: The Making and Re-making of a Damned Saint

My journey, enlightenments, and embracing of the shadows.

This past Sunday was my Parents’ 70th Wedding anniversary

This past Sunday was my Parents’ 70th Wedding anniversary. They were quite a pair.

I remember my parents’ card parties. Momma would cook nearly all day and Poppa would set up the tables and make what seemed like a billion trips to the store because Momma always thought she had forgotten something. Then they would get ready for their guests. The style was “casual-sharp.”

Then the guests would arrive. They all looked so pretty, so stylish.

The buffet would be laid and then the playing would begin. Friday evening until Sunday morning, the booze flowed, the feast was eaten, music played and people danced and laughed and sometimes tempers flared over a lost trick but everybody calmed down quick and the laughter and music started again.

Pinochle and Bid Whist were the orders of the day. Not everyone stayed the three days, but there was always someone else to take the place of the people who left.

And the KIDS. We always got to have a sleep over, but we didn’t sleep. We did the things kid do. We tried to steal Momma’s homemade rum balls or play pranks on the adults as they tried to steal a nap. And of course there was sitting quiet in the dark at the top of the stairs in the tiny hours, listening to gossip and the wisdom adults speak in the quiet times.

And the whole time, the games kept going as did the happiness.

People came and went and there was always people waiting to play, to laugh, to live.

Advertisements

An Act of Prayer

Let’s face it.

My tossing a soda can in a recycle bin will not stop global warming, will not stop the depletion of finite resources nor will it make Rush Limbaugh just go away.

And yet I do it.

My turning a light out in a room, even if I’m only going to be gone a few minutes won’t make a dent in the electric bill, won’t stop Progress Energy from using coal fired plants instead solar panels and windmills, and it also won’t make Rush Limbaugh just go away.

And yet I do it.

So why do I do it?

As an act of prayer.

See, the little things I do aren’t meant to change the world, they are meant to change me. They make me mindful, thoughtful, and invested. And if I do them long enough, they not only change my mind, but they change my heart, they grow my soul.

So when I come into communion and fellowship with others, we can be of one accord. We can be a people united. We can be a collective for change. Together, we just might make all the Rush Limbaughs of the world go away.

So do separate the trash and cut out the light and all the other little things that don’t change the world. Then go out in world together with others and in one accord, do the big things that do change world, that bring about beloved community, that build the Kingdom.

A child of god without a god.

I am a non-theist who prays
I am an agnostic who is sure
I am a skeptic that believes
I am a naturalist that revels in the holy mystery

I am neither saint nor sinner but have practiced both virtue and vice

I practice my humanism religiously and my religion humanely

I have partaken of the Balm of Gilead, and though scarred I am healed and while not holy, I am made now whole.

Why I Occupy

The psychology of Occupy, to me, is to fill (or occupy) the spaces abandoned by both the private and public sectors and to reclaim those spaces, actual and virtual, that have been corrupted by the small minds of the avaricious and soulless; to retrieve our story from the deceitful hands of the spinmeisters and dream-thieves; to withdraw our consent to live in an unjust system and to live righteous even if righteousness has been made illegal and is now thought to be treason.

For My Grandfathers. (Oh How I Wish They Had Met.)

Booker T. and W.E.B. by Dudley Randall

“It seems to me,” said Booker T.,
“It shows a mighty lot of cheek
To study chemistry and Greek
When Mister Charlie needs a hand
To hoe the cotton on his land,
And when Miss Ann looks for a cook,
Why stick your nose inside a book?”

“I don’t agree,” said W.E.B.
“If I should have the drive to seek
Knowledge of chemistry or Greek,
I’ll do it. Charles and Miss can look
Another place for hand or cook,
Some men rejoice in skill of hand,
And some in cultivating land,
But there are others who maintain
The right to cultivate the brain.”

“It seems to me,” said Booker T.,
“That all you folks have missed the boat
Who shout about the right to vote,
And spend vain days and sleepless nights
In uproar over civil rights.
Just keep your mouths shut, do not grouse,
But work, and save, and buy a house.”

“I don’t agree,” said W.E.B.
“For what can property avail
If dignity and justice fail?
Unless you help to make the laws,
They’ll steal your house with trumped-up clause.
A rope’s as tight, a fire as hot,
No matter how much cash you’ve got.
Speak soft, and try your little plan,
But as for me, I’ll be a man.”

“It seems to me,” said Booker T.–

“I don’t agree,”
Said W.E.B.