On the Way

Spring                                                New Bee Hiving Moon

Ruth has gone home.  Gabe has gone home.  Jon has gone home.  Jen has gone home.  The last of the trip’s intentions are now over.  All that remains is for me to go home.

Tomorrow morning, breakfast, then in the car for the next to last day.  This Ford Focus is a good car.  It’s set up well for a road trip.  I’ve gotten 35 mpg on average.

Trips have their own rhythms and this one has begun to turn toward home and away from traveling; now it’s a return.  Returns do not have the anticipation of new adventures, new sights, but they do have something better. Returns take us home.  It is only with home in mind that we can set off with confidence into the unknown. Home is the known, the safe place, the refuge.

It’s where Kate is.  Where Vega, Rigel and Gertie are.  Where the gardens and the orchard are.  Where the study is.  Where most of life happens.  I’m ready to get home.

Magical

Spring                                       Hare Moon

Several hours with granddaughter Ruth.  She asks questions from her much despised car seat while the car hums on asphalt, these old ears not able to pick up much of the high pitched chatter.  It tests my intelligence to appear to be listening.  I want to, but even the good ear doesn’t allow it.

Once in a while:  “Question.  Grandpop, have you finished your book?”  Yes, I have and its out to agents right now. “Agents.” They try to sell your book for you. “Oh.  Does it have any pictures?” Nope. “I’ve gotten really good at visualizing when I’m reading.  Question. (she actually says, question) How long is it?”  About 100,000 words.  “Is 100, 000 more than a million?”  No, it takes 10 100,000’s to make a million. “Oh.  Well, if I read your book ten times, I would get a million word medal.”

We went to the Colorado History Museum which has changed to visitor friendly exhibits.  Good for kids, a bit disappointing for me. Ruth loves to set the pattern of the dynamite in a mining demonstration, then push the plunger.  The patterns are complex and she remembers them perfectly each time.

Time with grandkids has a magical quality and I think it’s partly because the issue of mortality is so squarely and honestly on the table.  I’ll die long before Ruth and we both know that.  It gives these times together a depth and seriousness that rides below the surface of ice cream cones and bagels.

Her world is bicycles, books and imminent release from her car seat.  Mine is love, legacy and creativity.  Probably not that different in their essence.

And she wore me out.  Time for a nap.

 

 

Gee. That’s Interesting. Watch Out.

Spring                                                      Hare Moon

Denver.  Realized I never got back here on the big dream I had.  After working with it in a couple of different ways, here’s the nub of what I got:  In retreating, I advance.  The dream called me to consider the time just before my decision to re-enter the ministry with the UU’s.

It was, in many ways, a poor decision and, as I considered it over the retreat, probably caused me to lose almost a decade by turning my focus away from my real work:  writing, gardening, politics, home life.

It shared a characteristic with my original decision to go into the ministry, also a poor one.  My fascination with the sophisticated and intricate intellectual disciplines of first the Christian church (especially biblical study) and then the emerging movement of liberal religion in the United States entranced me.  I confused my very real intellectual excitement with vocation.  The ministry was not the vocation; the intellectual engagement was.

What this means is that I have to guard myself well when I get intellectually stimulated.  A tendency, no, my pattern, is to seek out institutions that utilize that discipline and try to join them.

Instead, when I retreat from institutional involvement, I advance because I do my own work, on my own time and in my own way. Thus, leaving the ministry let me begin this focus on writing.  Then, leaving Unity and giving up the UU ministry except for the occasional preaching assignment let me get started again on the writing.

But, I picked up the Sierra Club and the MIA. Why?  Because both areas fully engage my intellectual interest.  My passion for the Great Work on the one hand and beauty on the other pushed me into the institutional involvement.

Of course, I’m not saying these were wasted years.  Any of them.  I did real work, engaged difficult political, religious, organizational and educational challenges.  However, what I am saying is that following my intellect toward institutional engagement has been a mistake.  One I no longer have to continue.

Now, in the third phase, I have fully retreated to home and study, to self-directed work.  So, I have advanced at last.

This is why, in part at least, this retreat basically affirmed what I’m already doing.  It has taken me 40 plus years to learn this lesson.  About time, I’d say.

The third phase, then, will be the first period of my life when I will engage life fully as I am.  This retreat marked the end of a transition period that began roughly when Kate retired and which is now over.

Now we can live this new life, Kate as earth mother and quilter, me as, well, I don’t have the image yet, but I’m searching for it.