Finding Light in the Moonlight

With the return to the status quo of the J-O-B, the blossoming of a potential new business that will release me from the aforementioned status quo, and, most importantly, the care and feeding of an Angel Baby, there has been little time to pin epiphanies to the screen.

But, this morning I woke in time for a solitary cup of tea and the chance to watch the fullest lady moon set in the western sky just as the opposite horizon gave itself over to the sun’s glow.  And before that, when I filled up the kettle from the fridge’s water dispenser I realized exactly what I would tell Moira when she someday asks me what she should look for in the person she will marry.

She’ll know she’s met “the one” because the perfect soul mate will always light her way.

Sometimes when stumbling about in the rocky trail of becoming, it is easy to feel isolated and lost even when someone you love more than life slumbers beside you.  But then you need to look around you and find the light shining from most unexpected places, always burning somewhere to guide you home.

In my case, it was the glow of the LEDs on the water dispenser that my husband installed last winter.  Filling up that bedtime glass in the dark kitchen always led to spills and muttered curses, and so he made a little addition to our brand new monster of a refrigerator.  This morning as I filled the kettle in the thickest darkness, that of a January morning at 5 a.m., I was more grateful for its light than I ever had been at nighttime.  I knew I had found the one who would always light my way and that he slept upstairs, sheltering our most perfect creation.

At the End of the Day

At the end of the day, there is a great deal of mathematics to be done.

Did I cross enough off my to-do list? Did I treat everyone I encountered with respect? Did I eat foods that supported my body? Did I clean up the messes I caused and pitch in to help with those I did not? Did I write, practice yoga, meditate, give the cats enough attention?

During a writing workshop a couple of years ago I met an Irishwoman who is one of my wise women role models. She said, as I sought guidance in the months before my wedding, “at the end of the day all that matters is that you are together and in love.” When I can remember it, “at the end of day” is the phrase that helps me put things in perspective. At the end of the day, all that matters is that I cultivated love in all that I touched. Only when I am being too hard on myself does that nourishing phrase turn into a sort of edict about attainment and success.

While I think of the brief time I was able to tale in this wise, wise woman’s warmth, I continue to play with the idea of identity and how split ourselves into countless pieces so we can cover all of the bases. Another gem from this woman from Cork was about turning to “the woman at the head of the table,” the noble creature who keeps order over all of the other characters that make up the personality. One needn’t worry about being swept away by the part of herself that is too bossy or too conceited or too insecure when she can trust one woman to sit regally and keep everyone in check with a kind, firm hand. That woman at the head of the table, of course, is the finest expression of yourself, the one with the clarity and the discipline to show your best face to the world.

I love this image, and rely on it when I want to become the queen who can master her emotions and do what must be done – be it heading to work or writing another page. At the same time, I wonder if giving the different aspects of yourself a table to sit around and treating them like a bunch of crazy relations gives them too much power.

Depending on which tradition I want to ally myself with today, I can either look at this as a great technique for finding the most ideal part of myself or I look it as a way to perpetuate the false dramas of humanity. If this world is just an illusion, maya, adding extra players to my inner world hinders me from realizing Wisdom. How many mystics and Eastern teachers say that one enters true union with the Divine when she recognizes that possessions and creeds and personality traits are mere details?

I am left to wonder what to work on first – ordering the various pieces of my identity or trying to transcend everything that I believe defines my identity. Much of the time, I am marooned somewhere in the middle, feeding myself on a combination of pop psychology and mysticism. I guess this tension is part of what it means to be alive and seeking in the 21st century…

Challenging the Politcs of Fear

Earth ReflectionDriving home from work last night listening to NPR, as usual, I was left slack-jawed and muttering to myself at two stories presented back-to-back on All Things Considered: one on the plan to “map” Los Angeles’s Muslim community and the other about Italy’s expulsion of immigrants in response to the murder of a naval officer’s wife allegedly beaten to death by a Romanian immigrant. I can only hope that NPR realized the horrific juxtaposition of these stories that reeked of racism and xenophobia and intended to stir a bit of outrage. But perhaps they were just reporting the “news”…

L.A.’s deputy police chief Michael Downing said their new program is intended to identify the 500,000-700,000 Muslims in the city and determine the “trust level” so the department could serve these communities better. Of course, we are not meant to believe in this altruistic pitch, precisely because he went on to say that they were seeking groups who were “susceptible to violent ideologically based extremism.” Now, in no way am I advocating that we turn a blind eye to violent extremism or pretend that it does not exist, because surely it does, but what do we gain by singling out over half a million people for closer examination because of their faith, because of their coreligionists’ behavior? But it’s not racial profiling, he said, of course not.

In Italy, an emergency decree permits local police officials to expel EU citizens with criminal records if they are deemed dangerous to public safety. Of particular focus are the Romani people, the “gypsies,” who are criticized for being “unable to integrate into [Italian] society.” I always love how only “criminals” are accused of an inability to integrate with society; isn’t the history of the western world based on trampling indigenous culture? Neither Europeans nor Americans have ever been skilled at honoring “when in Rome…”

Certainly NPR could not do full justice to these stories in under five minutes each and I do not claim to grasp all of the mitigating factors that informed these law enforcement decisions, but it is the spirit of distrust and the politics of fear that reign across the globe that really terrifies me. I do realize that bad things happen in the world, and that that judging people by their religion and homeland is as old as these concepts themselves, and that a thug is a thug, and a terrorist a terrorist. I also realize I have the luxury of declaring such approaches to public safety preposterous (which public, by the way?). It belies the fact that my cocoon of American middle class privilege has never really been shaken. But how can we move forward as a global society when we make decisions based on suspicion and hatred?

If I am to believe that the only answer is love and the pursuit of understanding and unity, which I do, then I am obligated to rail against the way governments exploit and capitalize upon fear. A fearful citizenry is robbed of its ability to ask critical questions and loses aspects of its humanity when everyone and everything is seen through a veil of anxiety. It is not impractical or naive to believe that there is a better way, it’s just much more difficult and takes the responsibility of salvation out of the hands of the Michael Downings of the world and places it squarely in ours. We only resist a culture of fear by challenging it within ourselves.