Daily Archives: May 7, 2012

Commentary on Religion, Faith and Spirituality, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant.

True North

Leave a comment

Beltane                                                     Beltane Moon

Went outside a moment to look at the stars.  A clear, calm night.  Darkness may blanket the earth, but in the heavens the lights are on.

Right now ursa major hangs upside down, pouring its contents over polaris and down to earth.  As I continue to wonder and ponder reimagining faith, I’ve looked into a Buddhist sect that worshiped the north star.  Hokusai, the early 19th genius of the ukiyo-e print, followed this belief, which originated in China.

The north star does not move; aligned with earth’s axis it sits over the north pole and is the center point of this time lapse photo. (above)  Since it did not move, and since the other stars seemed to rotate around it, especially ursa major, some Chinese believed it was the center of the universe and transmitted its messages through ursa major.

We nod toward the same sentiment when we talk about our true north, our pole star.  Gazing up at polaris, seeing the stars pointed at it, knowing the revolution ursa major is always in the process of making, I could imagine the north star as the center, the hub of meaning.

One of the virtues of a pagan perspective lies in its simple access to wonder.  Stare at the north star, imagine its constancy, see its relation to, say, vishnu, to your need for a still, calm place at the focus of your soul and embrace it as the message the universe has offered, high up in the darkness, a light that holds its place.

Dogs

I Love Dogs. But…

Leave a comment

Beltane                                                           Beltane Moon

I love dogs.  Anyone who knows me or who reads this blog knows that.  I love Gertie.  You may not know Gertie, but she is one of our dogs, a German short-hair we picked up after her Denver home was no longer suitable for her.

(as you can see by this photo, she’s no ordinary dog.)

But, then again.  Gertie keeps escaping.  She did this in Denver and now she has figured out a way to do the same here.  Real frustrating.  When our other dogs escaped, we worried only about their safety.  They were lovers, not fighters.

Gertie, on the other hand, got prodded and poked, teased by her neighbors in Denver.  She got bit and incited by her crate mate Sollie.  She lives with us now in harmony.  However.  She will not trust the kindness of strangers.  She suspects strangers and will not hesitate to bite them.  Not always, but once is too much.

When she escapes, we worry not only about her safety, but that of others.  That makes containing her a priority.  That means I’m back at it again, trying to outsmart the dog.

This puts me in the business of working with my hands.  Frustrating.  I get testy when I have to work with my hands because I’m not good at it, each move from planning to drilling to stringing wire challenges my capacity and I. Don’t. Like. That.  Put that together with the frustration of repeated elopements.  Let’s just say it’s not party time.

I had a plan. I executed the plan.  Gertie jumped over my plan.  Grrr.  I modified the plan.  We’ll see now.  I have more plans.  This is a lesson in something, zen stillness or inner tranquility or zoo keeper 101.  The latter, I think.

Aging, Health, Retirement, Third Phase, Woolly Mammoths

Yet More Loss

Leave a comment

Beltane                                                              Beltane Moon

Got back from the retreat about 12:30.  Took a shower, rested a bit, then hopped in the car for Moon’s reviewal at Washburn-McCreavy in Bloomington.

The bulk of the mourners were Chinese, the Fong family, but there were friends of Scott and of Yin who, like me, are round eyes.   A bowl of red envelopes, take one please, sat next to cards of hand-written calligraphy and a second bowl of hard candy.  An order of service for the funeral the next day had a color photograph of Moon on the cover.

Moon lay in a casket at the end of the first hall, hands crossed over her chest, fabric work and calligraphy with her.  Next to the coffin a video played, showing pictures from Moon’s life, including one with a curly headed Yin, young and beautiful.

Mourners wore red bands to indicate celebration of Moon’s life, though a few wore black bands to indicate her centenary; while 97 at her death, Chinese custom adds four years, so her age according to Chinese tradition was 101.

There were the usual clots of well-wishers gathered around person they know, wandering from board to board of photographs and watching, again, the video shown in two places in a hall separate from the reviewal room itself.

I spoke to Yin, then to Scott, said we’d talk later and left.

When I got home, I had an e-mail from Warren that his father, Wayne, whom he had put in hospice care only Wednesday, had completed his journey.  Warren’s phrase.  Warren, referencing the end of Longfellow’s Hiawatha, said he thought his Dad might last longer, but “he was in a faster canoe.”

These are times of transition, of change, of loss, of gathering in the lessons of a lifetime and using them for this third, last phase of our own journeys.  We knew it before the retreat and now we have fresh and poignant evidence.