Personal
Charles Ellis
Careen Heegard photo
"Through the years, a man peoples a space with images of provinces,
kingdoms, mountains, bays, ships, islands, fishes, rooms, tools, stars, horses
and people. Shortly before his death, he discovers that the patient labyrinth of
lines traces the image of his own face." - Jorge
Luis Borges
Why Ancient Trails? Well, to be honest, it just occurred to me and I thought, cool; the quote from Borges supported the notion, too.
Since then, I've developed more of a rationale.
Our lives, even the most idiosyncratic, follow paths worn deep by generations before us. One ancient trail is the simple human story, my story passed onto my children and grandchildren. The blog part of this website is that trail, byte-crumbs laid down so those who know me now and those who do not know me yet will have some sense of who I am, and, eventually, who I was.
Another ancient trail is devotion to place, often expressed in horticultural and agricultural activity. North talks about a relationship with the Great Anoka Sand Plain and the particular expression of it here at 7 Oaks.
Most human beings participate in the politics of their place and time, some actively, some by remaining passive. So, politics is an ancient trail, too.
No human being who ever lived has been without faith, an inner sense as to how the world works, what drives it, what gives the individual and communal life meaning and purpose.
Since the caves in Lascaux and probably earlier humans have created images of their world or the world beyond. Art and faith are two of the most ancient trails of all. We make purpose and meaning in our lives, sometimes through faith traditions, but also, often through particular activities or projects that seem to match our gifts and talents with opportunity sometimes only we see.
There is, too, the trail itself, travel, for some nomads it is a constant trail, for others an occasional one.
Last we experience the changing of seasons as evidence of our great and most ancient path, earth's orbit around the sun. The Great Wheel explores the voyages of spaceship earth.
Hello and Welcome,
In 1947 the baby boom had just begun its demographic explosion. Curtis and Gertrude Ellis, an Air Force Tech Sergeant and a WAC from the Signal Corps (Intelligence), helped. On February 14th in the Stephens County hospital in Duncan, Oklahoma I became another post-war child.
Mom and Dad moved a lot my first couple of years until we landed in Alexandria, Indiana.
Alexandria came to the attention of many WWII GI's through a propaganda pamphlet which named it: Smalltown, USA. My dad, newspaper editor of the Alexandria Times-Tribune, took this title for his regular column. In addition, the much more famous Middletown, of sociology fame, lay only 19 miles away: Muncie, Indiana.
Alexandria has the largest paint-ball in the world. No kidding. Google it. The paint-ball has its own website. The Gaithers, a major force in the gospel music business, live in Alexandria and have the only gospel recording studio outside of Nashville less than three blocks from where I went to high school. Bill Gaither was my high school English teacher, and his future wife, Gloria, was my French teacher.
Also, just today (Oct. 19th) David Steele, an Alexandria dentist, made news of the weird. Seems he put gold caps on his one-year old Siberian cat and also his Boston Terrier. Dave's father, Clayton, was the minister of the Methodist Church I grew up in and distinguished himself during his pastorate by disappearing to California with the organist. Quite a cliché, eh?
Alex (pronounced Aleck) had a lot of folks who grew up in the hills of Tennessee, Kentucky, Mississippi, Arkansas, and West Virginia. They came up to work in the automobile factories. These folks always wanted to go home.
A few of us identified Alexandria as home. I still do.
Saw the movie Kinsey a few nights ago and it struck me that Indiana was an odd place for the sexual revolution to begin. Along with the Indianapolis 500 it underlines the strange, even bizarre place Indiana has in U.S. history. The KKK elected a senator and a governor there in the 20's.
American's love the road; I sure do. From Indiana the road took me to Appleton, Wisconsin, then to the Twin Cities, a farm near Nevis, Minnesota, Center City, and, all told within the Twin Cities 16 different apartments, condominiums, and houses.
My last stop, though, has gone on for 14 years. It may be the last one; but, you never know. There are those kids in Colorado with the grandchild.
Along the way I got interested in the sacred, the holy, the just, and the beautiful. In one sense you could say I've lived my life in search of or in service to this quartet. Over 12 years of post high school education I've studied philosophy, anthropology, theology, biblical criticism, and ethics. Later, for a Doctor of Ministry the curriculum focused on church administration and urban activism. There've been stints as an administrator and program person in services for developmentally disabled adults. Anti-war and neighborhood political organizing. 15 active years in the Presbyterian ministry and now ten as a credentialed Unitarian-Universalist clergy.
Of late, writing has taken first place. Novels, short stories, sermons, essays, meditations on the changing seasons, a bit of work on Islam, politics, and Lake Superior, too.
Kate and I have a wonderful, happy marriage now 16 years and counting. We share a passion for dogs and flowers and international travel. We met at the St. Paul Chamber Orchestra and have an appreciation for the blues, jazz, folk, WWII melodies, and 60's style rock and roll, too. We visit art museums and galleries. Kate does voluntary medical work in addition to her pediatric practice. She also quilts, sews, and serves as the fix-it lady. Jon and Joseph, daughter-in-law, Jen, and a grandchild, Ruth, fill out the family.
This next phase of life intrigues us and we look forward to it. Not retirement, but a continuation of things that matter, and the possibility of discovering new things that matter.
A note of context for all this work
: I'm feeling a need to take a stand, a stand as distinct as the one I shared with so many others in the 60's, yet perhaps one now shared by few. The competing pressures of contemporary life, alternating between personal freedom with a reach that has no parallel in human history and a sense of powerlessness before the large market, military, and governmental forces have left me confused. My need, and my direction, have geographical context, living on the exurban edge, far from my political allies and friends, yet snugged into a natural world of subtle, yet great beauty.The stand is this: the time between now and my death has already been counted, the days a known quantity, though concealed. The space between home and the cities requires care in the use of travel, travel I choose to devote mainly to art and friends. Therefore, I will, even more than I have in the past, frame my work projects as matters for the student, the scholar and devote time to them in the measured and consistent way I know well. At some point I will turn that work over to the poet for creation of manuscripts: essays, poems, books. The monk's role will be to keep my spirit steady and refreshed, in contact always with the geist as it interacts with my Self.
In the overall I place family first and the scholar's labor second, the monk's rhythm will define my days, and the poet's sensibility my creations.