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I came on a silent retreat.

Chitchatted with my sister on the phone, emailed colleagues about the yearbook, wrote a lesson plan, graded papers, connected around the international women’s work, you know.

Took a long walk, saw a brown shape, looked like a walnut wooden mask, the size of an overripe orange; it was a bloated dead mouse, (so gross), probably dropped from a hawk’s mouth onto my path. Wondered about those last few minutes of the mouse’s life – in the hawk’s mouth, terrified, exhilarated.

Met a woman at the first lunch, an elder, a liturgical dancer, named Mary Elizabeth. Talked about how we love our name, despite its length, royalty. She goes by Betsy.

Then, Good Friday, all meals, silent. I thought about beloved mentors who’ve died, Mark O’Donnell, Dan Wakefield, of course, my dad Edgar. How they all believed in me (usually); how they all laughed heartily (usually) at my jokes.

I told myself, Stop being so self-involved. Open your heart, I told myself. Notice the beauty of nature, to those yellow Daffs, to that fake-ish-looking Hyacinth.

I wondered if persecution is in the DNA of Christians? I told myself, Stop being morbid. Bloom. Flourish, flower from the dead earth. Spring eternal. Still felt my stem of resentment. Told myself, You have suffered nothing next to the child in Gaza.

I told myself, Consider the suffering of others, even my beloveds, mother and Chris, their struggles with Parkinson’s Disease. Beloved. Be loved. Be love.

I told myself, Say yes, to the silence. Retreat. Open to nature. Open your heart to nature, to beauty. Set down the luggage of resentment that you carry. Be light.

The sun came out. The earth came up with spring. I had nothing to do with it. Nothing, but notice. Be grateful. Be loved. Be love. Love.

For even if you choose to stay in winter, you will find yourself in spring, If you choose to stay who you were, you will find yourself who you are. You aim for silence, and find yourself in conversation. Even on Good Friday, even then, you have Easter.





Lyft arrived at 6:40 am on West Dickens, Chicago – a woman driver! (I did not comment, ‘wow, a woman driver!’ thinking she must get that all the time. Let me normalize that a woman is a ride-share driver by saying nothing.)

She said she wakes at 3:45 am every day and goes to bed at 7:30 pm – ‘already been to the airport four (?) times this morning.’

At airport, 7:00 am, I noticed an earlier flight was boarding. Maybe I wouldn’t have to wait until 8:45 am.

Breezed thru security.

At 7:15, the k4 gatekeeper said, “No I cannot take you for standby.”

I said, amicably, “Oh well, I least I tried.” Adjusted my weekender shoulder bag nearby.

Suddenly, “Wait- have you checked your luggage?”

“No.”

“Good answer. Come on aboard.” She invited me.

On the flight, I had a row to myself (as did everyone pretty much.) Graded papers.

Almost home now, tapping this note in the backseat of a yellow cab, flying through Central Park. (11:20 am NYC time/10:20 Chicago time).

How long does it take to get from a pick up in Lincoln Park, Chicago, to the drop off on Upper West Side, Manhattan? The answer is 3 hours and 45 minutes.

‘Not that it’s a race.’

Thank you to all the drivers and crew on Lyft, American Airlines, and Yellow Cab. And to my family who welcomed me!

They welcomed me back and they welcomed me home.

“Preconditioning your battery for supercharge”

What does this mean? Is it code for ‘conserve your energy for a boost coming soon?’

You felt lucky enough to have rented a Tesla $200 cheaper than last year‘s rental. Plus you could return it to Philadelphia (on route to Sarasota) for no extra charge. You have a cool EV car for a weekly rate of less than $200!

You took the friendly Thrifty attendant’s advice, “Don’t drive too fast!”

And then, outside of Albany, driving to the Adirondacks from NYC, you look at your battery level – what was 90% had spiraled down to less than 50; and then, a bit later, you’re at 30 and then you realize, dang, you should’ve asked the sweet attendant how to plot out the charging protocol instead of how to work the radio.

Trust the car. This message appears (think Goethe: ‘when the student is ready, the teacher appears’): “preconditioning for supercharge.” And the car’s google map guides you to a Saratoga Stewart’s charging port.

All ports are full, and after waiting for a few minutes, you start your charge. Easy to plug in and 20 minutes later, you’re on the road again.

And, yes, you may have learned a lesson. If you want to, then do, by all means, go ahead – completely forget to plot your next charge. But know that there will be a spiraling down of energy which may cause charging anxiety. Even panic.

So wherever you are this New Year’s, my wish for you in 2024 is for all of your charging anxiety to be paired with a preconditioning for a super boost!

Notes from the Wild Goose Festival

“Biden is getting us back to, ‘America as a group project.’” Bill McKibben basically said, Biden is a better president than Clinton or Obama because he’s getting the country back to an LBJ-kind-of-activist presidency, wherein our duty is to right society’s (and history’s) wrongs. And our task is to help each other out with our can-do optimism.

America as a group project? Yup. As a teacher, I’ve assigned group projects – and sometimes students complain, “Hey! I’m doing all the work. And the other kids are just not showing up!”

And yes, that’s how it feels — in a family, group, a classroom, or America right now.

I’m doing it all; where’s everyone else? But pause and wonder (this step can be hard, especially for kids).

Think about it, ‘Am I ruminating on the problems or on the solutions?’ Because as Donald Miller says, ‘If I’m fixated on the problems, then that’s a victim mindset.’ And to make things right, we have to focus on solutions and work together.

McKibben recently wrote a memoir, THE FLAG, THE CROSS, AND THE STATION WAGON: A Graying American Looks Back at His Suburban Boyhood and Wonders What the Hell Happened. And McKibben chatted with journalist Diana Butler Bass at the Wild Goose Festival in Harmony, North Carolina, moderated by Josh Scott, pastor of GracePointe Church in Nashville.

They discussed what the hell happened to democracy, Christianity, and the concept of America as a group project.

Butler Bass talked about the decline of Protestantism. I, of course, love when anyone talks about the Interchurch Center, having worked there for so much of my working life, so was shocked to learn, according to Bass, that when the Interchurch Center, our beloved God Box, was built, during the Eisenhower era, 52 percent of US people considered themselves Protestant and that number is currently descending from 13.8 percent.

Scott, Bass, and McKibben talked about evangelism and how evangelicals gradually became aligned with Jewish and Catholic people rather than their own Protestant community. This, Bass said, had previously been unthinkable – almost as unthinkable as printing bible verses on AK-47s, which is truly blasphemous.  

Bass explained how fundamentalists vilify liberals in order to solidify their base. And avoid change.

And, if the fundamentalists hate change, I ask, how did they become a party that wanted to overtake the government? How did Christian fundamentalists become January 6 evangelicals?

Scott basically said, ‘Our task is to take the bible seriously, but not literally.’ Bass agreed, calling the bible ‘a book so great that it cannot be used like a cook book.’ And, at the Wild Goose, there was even talk of expanding the bible — kind of like how my kids talk about expanding the Constitution — like, it was never meant to be static. The bible and the constitution were always meant to grow and live and change. And yes, breathe. Yes, they are foundational texts, but, too, they are proofs of the power of mutable group projects.

So, are we still seeing our American democracy as a collective undertaking? Or are we each embedded in our own rugged individualism? Can Christians see their various factions as rooted in a truly pacifist, God-centered, love-based world view? Or are we fragmenting irreparably? Stay tuned.

McKibben lifted up Pope Francis and Greta Thunberg as two of the world’s greatest leaders, offering hope and inspiration for our tasks at hand.

I would add that Bass, McKibben and Scott – this trio gives us hope. Their thoughtfulness and steadiness for so many years — they’ve led us with stories of the redemptive power of nature, religion, and faith.

Maybe we can glean some hope, too, from the results of the Ohio constitutional referendum yesterday. Voted down, this attempt to hijack democracy away from a simple majority rule would not be made into law.

Maybe even the Barbie movie! Perhaps Barbie was such a hit because it was a shared experience, like a concert, rally, or festival. Movie making is, and most kinds of art are, ultimately, group projects.

My story can never be your story. But my story might inform yours, or be like yours, or maybe even add depth or another dimension to yours. If nothing else, sharing our stories might lead to greater understanding, tolerance, appreciation, and perhaps even celebration of our differences.

― Diana Butler Bass

Listen in to McKibben and Bass’s discussion (and not just read my spotty notes) from the July 14, 2023 discussion at the Wild Goose Festival, at Diana Butler Bass’s substack.

He brings me dried flowers
asks me to notice
or see the death as something more

But I deep down conjure Mother Earth
hear he wants me to 
bring them back to life
And make them into

What?
Ash
Dust
Give the dead flowers to the Wind

Mother Earth tells Wind to 
take the ash and notice
the minerals
the grains of sand
the same ones on the beach
in the sea

Some alchemy at night
when Wind churns a soupy mix
into stars

So the next time he brings me dried flowers
I say, Look up!
Notice. They're already there!
Those were your dead flowers
Now they are the brightest stars
lighting your path
when lost at sea

As you, alone, find your way home

"You can become bitter or you can see the broken seed as a way for growth." 
 The quote appeared in my journal.
 A reminder: refrain from bitterness. 
 Sure, taste the lemon, but do not suck on it.
 Dine on it or 
 Seek nurture from it.
It is good to season with a zest of lemon 
but not make a meal of it.
 As I like to say, 
 "It takes a lot of work to be this happy-go-lucky."  
 How surprising that taste of lemon as a kid -- the first time I try it,
Wow. Pucker up. 
 This is nothing like the lemon sour candy 
 coated in the finest powdered sugar.
 Bitter, better, batter.
 You decide. 

Sparkle.
Shine.
Refuse to dull.
Refuse to cower in the shade.
Step into,
ride through,
bask in
the sun.

This morning as I biked through Central Park, hitting the bridal path. (Are those two not the two most beautiful words in the English language, say it with me — bridal path — conjuring up images of weddings and horses and journey), I bathed in the quiet. The loud morning sun shone through the quiet trees. Were they the American Elm trees? Ready to tap out, to hunker down for winter, spread their leaves like a blanket across the path. Like a gentleman in an old movie, laying his coat across the puddle.

See, I have to arrive to school by 7:50 in time to thermal scan (those two words — thermal scan — are not my favorites — conjuring up images of technology and disembodied temperatures). Biking is the fastest route. My heart gets pumping. Earlier, about 6:50 today, the cool in the air, I took a walk with Charlie (Charley? Does it even matter how you spell a dog’s name as they can’t read any way?) And the walk turned into a run, he and I along the Riverside Park sidewalk — this middling age woman and her frisky newfound dog.

What was the point I was trying to make?
Oh, I recall, once I heard at a 12 step meeting, “I don’t believe in God, but I believe in the sun’s rays. And every time I see them, I’m reminded of a Higher Power.”
Yes, this.
You may not believe in God,
but you may believe in the sun’s rays
and the way the leaves drift down the bridal path.
Believe in the shine, the luminescence
the ineffableness of the sun’s sparkle through the bowing of the great Central Park trees.

The sunlight, the trees, they ask for nothing,
Not even you for you to notice.
Run. Ride.
Scan. Shine. Sparkle.

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