Gypsy Girl Chronicles

Welcoming You

2007-10-11T21:32:00.000-07:00

The time was right. We had spent months discussing when and how we would make ourselves ready to receive you. After returning from Africa and giving myself time to rest and heal from that beautiful and soul rending journey, your father and I cleansed our minds and bodies with a special diet and self-care program intended to aid in fertility. I loathed the spiritless mathematics of tracking my monthly cycle with daily measurements of temperature and fluid, but attempted to infuse the possibility of you into this monotonous information gathering. After only a few weeks of paying closer attention to my bodies signs I recognized the subtle change in my cycle and your father and I cleared a space in our hearts and minds and bodies to invite you to join us. On a small altar we placed a few things of meaning to us: a soft warm shawl, a small baby toy, a single candle, and a couple of stones. We burned some sage to cleanse our bed and lifted up a prayer to invite your sweet soul to find us…

Several hours later in the early morning hours a vivid dream came over me…

Your father and I were guests at a large celebration in an enormous and beautiful mansion. The host suggested that we step outside the ballroom to have a look at the stars. On the balcony, just the two of us in the balmy night air, we were stunned to see stars and planets like we had never seen on this earth before hanging in the sky. They were huge and brilliant and colorful! As we took in the awe-inspiring sight a gentle rain began to fall. Filled with wonder and joy we began dancing around the balcony. I started to spin around and around and suddenly felt an intense energy spiral down through my body with so much power that I began to lift off the ground. It was wonderful and frightening and I called out to your father to grab my hand to hold me to the earth. I felt his strong, warm hands anchor me even as the energy continued spinning through my body. I awoke to find that I had actually called for him out loud and he was there holding me. For several moments I was still aware of the spiral force within my body…and intuitively I knew…you had arrived.

It wasn’t until 2 weeks later at the family cabin, a special place for us, that technology confirmed what my spirit already knew…I am pregnant with you. What an honor. We welcome you great soul. Thank you for choosing us. I can’t wait to meet you face to face in March. In the meantime I will enjoy this intimacy we share and continue clearing space for you in my heart, mind, body, and home.

Complicity

2007-06-05T15:58:00.000-07:00

The first time I traveled to Africa 2 years ago I returned with a deeper level of personal awareness of my impact on the earth and it’s peoples. I turned a new corner in a journey that had already begun in my soul long before; one of a deepening consciousness about global issues regarding the environment, trade, health, and human rights. But since my return from Africa on this last trip, I can only say that I am even more awake than ever…excruciatingly awake to the terrible injustice that exists on our planet and my complicity in it. Everywhere I look I am confronted with it. It hides under thinly disguised and not-so-thinly disguised trade policies, corporate expansion plans, military actions, and even humanitarian aid campaigns…I see it in my home in the clothes I wear, the food I eat, the fuel in my car, the cell phone I use, and the diamond ring on my hand. Even my house is built on stolen soil, stained by the blood and tears of the native Duwamish tribe…and I cannot wash it off of my hands no matter how hard I try. The oppression is pervasive. I realize that I will never be able to truly sleep again…even when I forget for a moment and begin to live in the daydream that is our society…I am shaken out of it again and again. Tormented.

It is difficult to describe the outrage and grief I’ve experienced upon the realization that the very act of living on this American soil and participating--if even in the most conscious ways--in this economy, means I am paying for the very injustice I claim to stand against. It is the most agonizing paradox. I pay my taxes and grit my teeth while my money funds environmental degradation, violence, and unthinkable kinds of exploitation. My very skin symbolizes generations of conquest, arrogance, murder, slavery, and global oppression. I feel like a snake trying to shed my skin only to find another layer of the same stuff underneath and I wonder if I will lose my mind.

The words from Barbara Kingsolver’s The Poisonwood Bible move me. One of the characters especially resonates with me: Leah Price came to Congo as a young, naïve American girl with her missionary family in 1960. Now and adult living in Congo and married to a Congolese man her “awakening” haunts her too…

“Be kind to yourself," he says softly in my ear, and I ask him, How is that possible? I rock back and forth on my chair like a baby, craving so many impossible things: justice, forgiveness, redemption. I crave to stop bearing all the wounds of this place on my narrow body. But I also want to be a person who stays, who goes on feeling anguish where anguish is due. I want to belong somewhere, damn it. To scrub the hundred years’ war off this white skin till there’s nothing left and I can walk out among my neighbors wearing raw sinew and bone, like they do. Most of all, my white skin craves to be touched and held by the one man on earth I know has forgiven me for it.

The book closes with this beautiful and healing passage from the perspective of Ruth May, Leah’s young, dead sister…

The teeth at your bones are your own, the hunger is yours, forgiveness is yours. The sins of the fathers belong to you and to the forest and even to the ones in iron bracelets, and here you stand, remembering their songs. Listen. Slide the weight from your shoulders and move forward. You are afraid you might forget, but you never will. You will forgive and remember…Move on. Walk forward into the light.

Dark Passage

2007-06-03T17:14:00.000-07:00

Several weeks ago dear friends gave me the gift of allowing me to borrow their log cabin in northern Washington for a few days where I escaped to try to find myself. Here I immersed myself in things that move the deep waters of my soul… the art of Andy Goldsworthy, the poetry of Rumi, the music of Arvo Part. I stood in the rain under the tall pines for a long time until I felt a black heaviness begin to drain out of me. I was visited by the healing presence of deer and hummingbirds as I wept and wrote and sat in stillness.

Since my return from Africa three months ago I have been cocooned in sorrow, rage, and utter bewilderment. I have been tormented by searing questions about my purpose and my faith. I have staggered under the weight of human suffering, injustice, and the seemingly inevitable destruction we have brought upon this planet—our home. I hurt so much for all the inequity, fear, and humiliation that so many in our human family are experiencing. I feel so frustrated by my powerlessness, by my inability to even revolutionize my own household. I am filled with an unfocused passion that yields futility, and I envy those whose hearts seem to have found a home—something they believe in to pour their time, energy, and skills into. My ambition is my bane. I cannot accept being less than some imagined Great Liberator for mankind. Yet I cannot even free myself. I am paralyzed by the unending array of suffering before me and the desire growing in my belly threatens to tear to me to pieces…yet, I don’t know where to put this fire—before it devours me.

I have avoided writing here for some time because I could not bring myself to begin processing all that I saw and experienced in the Congo or how that trip has affected my inner life in profound and disturbing ways. I think it is time that I begin to let the words flow, if only for my own healing conduit. Thank you for traveling with me here on this dark passage.

Home

2007-03-05T13:01:00.000-08:00

After two incredible weeks of wild animals and beautiful beaches in Kruger and Cape Town, South Africa...and over 30 hours of travelling back to Seattle...Pat and I are home. It is good to see my cats and sleep in my own bed and take a hot shower, but I'm feeling pretty overwhelmed by the shock of it all. Re-entry sucks. It feels as if I had started another life in Africa, one that I was meant to live, and now I'm back home and trying to figure out how to reconcile it all. I guess one thing's for sure...it's in my bones and it always will be...connecting with other cultures, experiencing the land, the food, the music, the lifeblood of others so different from me, and yet my family. Bearing witness to injustice and suffering and hope and passion...this story is not over, it has just begun...
More soon.

DRC Journal: Entry 7

2007-02-17T07:51:00.002-08:00

Last night I had the privelege of meeting a traditional chief and eating fried ants (yep, I did it!) . Tomorrow I leave Congo to meet Pat in South Africa. It has been quite an adventure and I’m sure I’ll be processing my experiences for some time to come. I don’t plan on posting for the next two weeks, but there are many more reflections I will share upon my return home, including more specifics about a project I hope to help develop and participate in here. Thank you to all of you who have walked alongside me in one way or another during this journey, your presence is felt. Hope you’ll check in again in March.

Safari Njema!

DRC Journal: Entry 6

2007-02-17T07:51:00.001-08:00

Not even the dead can rest in peace in Congo. Today I drove past Kimbaseka, a huge cemetery that has been overgrown with high weeds and suffered extreme damage from flooding. Shreds of clothing and human bones are laid bare in the badly eroded earth. This is just another sign of the complete breakdown of infrastructure in this country. There are no phone lines, no functioning bank or postal system, no garbage removal, inconsistent availability of water and electricity, and utterly destroyed roads.

Yet on the other side of the cemetery I found hope once again in the determined faces of women. It was a self-initiated and operated community co-op. In weekly gatherings these women come together to offer what little they have to a community pot that each of them has the opportunity to take loans from to increase business capacity or to use as insurance in case of medical emergencies, etc. By working together they have been extremely successful at developing a strong support system with transparency and accountability.

Tears streamed down my face as I told them about how during my travels in DRC over the past month I have continued to witness the most beautiful, courageous women that are holding together families, communities, and so this country. Because of their commitment children are in school, food is on the table, and those who are sick are getting treatment. They are effectively raising their own status in society. Even men admit that Congo, indeed Africa, is being held up on the backs of women. I have been encouraged by more than one thoughtful, intelligent Congolese man, “If you are going to help Congo – please, please help our women.” It is not that men aren’t also integral to the health and vitality of this country but it appears that the society is undergoing a shift towards a more balanced power structure in which women are in the process of standing up to take their place in this new order of authority, and importantly, to be recognized for the strength and stability they provide.

One last time I danced and sang with these jubilant burden bearers, and as I pulled away I heard the now familiar cry---

“Do not forget about us.”

DRC Journal: Entry 5

2007-02-17T07:51:00.000-08:00

Abused at home she had run away as a young teen only to find prostitution as her only means of survival. Now rescued off of the unforgiving streets of Kinshasa in a home where she is learning how to sew and how to deal with the stark reality that she is HIV+, Janine hopes to help other young girls like her have a chance at life.

It is estimated that there are at least 50,000 others like her on Kinshasa’s streets…Thrown away children, lost and forgotten.

There is a growing movement in some fundamentalist churches here wielding a distorted, fear-based religion that makes mass accusations of witchcraft and sorcery. It’s followers are encouraged to indiscriminately banish people and things from their homes that might be “unclean”. Children have been targeted in the hysteria…and once again the innocents suffer.

There are churches here that truly aim to follow Jesus’ example and are reaching out to these “witch-hunt refugees”, but the street kids are understandably hesitant to once again put their trust in an institution that has so deeply wounded and betrayed them.

How is it that a religion that is supposed to be based on love and the sanctity of life can be responsible for so much suffering?

DRC Journal: Entry 4

2007-02-13T05:57:00.000-08:00

Back in Kinshasa after some of the wildest adventures of my life…

Last week I headed to Baraka, an 8-hour drive into heavily war-affected areas south of Bukavu via Rwanda. Here I stayed at the UNHCR guest house with a wonderfully random collection of aid workers who had forged a unique family with one another in this remote and severe post-war environment where militias still roam and security is tenuous. From our base Lisa and I traveled with a staff member from Women for Women International over the roughest off-road terrain I’ve ever experienced to visit several small villages in the surrounding mountains where there were “sisters” we had sponsored through Run For Congo Women. Our reception was unbelievable, even in the midst of such poverty and suffering these women dressed in their finest fabrics and greeted us with flowers and singing. We spent hours listening to their stories and delivering greetings from our friends and family in America. Our main message to them was this: “We know about you, you matter to us, and we love you.”

The large majority of these women were recent returnees from refugee camps in neighboring Tanzania where some of them had spent up to 10 years after fleeing the conflict in Congo. 90% of them were rape victims, some of them numerous times. Most of them had lost children as a result of the war due to violence, malnutrition, and preventable disease. One woman I met had lost 10 children. It was too painful for her to even recall all of their names. The majority of these women had lost their husbands in the war or had been abandoned by them because of the rape and were left alone, struggling to provide for their children. The brutality they have seen and experienced is unimaginable…cruelty so dark I can’t even write about it here. I am trembling just thinking about it.

One of the very special opportunities I had was to distribute small hand-made glass hearts to these women as a token of hope and solidarity. The hearts were made by a friend of mine who is a rape survivor and asked me to pass them along with a message that even though we live far apart and have very different life experiences we can understand eachother’s pain and care for eachother as sisters. She asked me to tell them that everytime they hold the small heart in their hand they will remember that they are not forgotten and that beauty can come out of suffering. The women loved this small gift and begged us not to forget them. I never will.

Near the end of the week we took a small boat out to an island peninsula in Lake Tanganyika to visit one last village. It was clear these people rarely get visitors and our arrival was cause for a major celebration. From far away we could see tiny figures running down the side of the mountain and gathering at the beachfront. What followed is something I will never forget for as long as I live…

First the singing came to us on the wind and as we drew closer we could see the moving mass of brightly colored clothing, palm branches and flowers waving, and grass mats laid out for us to step onto as we disembarked. The entire village received us with laughter, embraces, and squeals of delight. We were immediately caught up in an impromptu parade, winding up the mountain through the village, carried by the jubilant singing, dancing, and drumming. It was breathtaking!

Next we were presented with a formal welcome address from village leaders along with gifts of chickens, goats, eggs, rice, wood carvings, and weavings. Just writing about it makes me want to weep, it was so beautiful and surreal. Hours passed visiting and dancing together before it was time for us to head back. Once again they accompanied us down the mountain to the beach and sang a farewell as we pulled away. Within minutes the sky darkened, a huge storm appeared on the horizon, and the wind ripped the canvas top off of the boat. We scrambled for our life jackets as the water grew rougher and the captain decided we had no choice but to turn back immediately.

We reached the shore just as the torrential rains came up on our backs. I heard women’s voices as strong hands emerged from the opaque night and led us quickly up into the village. I felt utterly powerless, completely at the mercy of our new friends’ kindness. We were huddled into a small house with nothing but an oil lamp and within minutes bed mats were fetched for us (I know some generous souls slept on the hard earth that night for our benefit). Two men volunteered to stand guard outside our door all night long to ensure our safety. Lying there on my back in disbelief of the turn of events, listening to the loud chirps of bats in the eaves, my fears diminished and a strange peace washed me to sleep. We headed back at early light feeling like our hearts had become a little more African after that magical night.

This was followed by two of the most stressful travel days I’ve ever experienced. Racing to get back through Rwanda before the border to Congo closed we ran into a huge backup on the road where a UN SUV was half sunk in a muddy hole. After helping extract the vehicle we made it literally in the last minute over the border. I’ve been learning that in Congolese speak “no problem” actually means “there could be a major problem here.” I’ve in turn been teaching my Congolese friends what “by the skin of your teeth” means.

The following morning I caught an early boat for the four hour ride from Bukavu to Goma on Lake Kivu. Shortly after arrival in Goma I was supposed to catch a plane to Kinshasa. Due to some miscommunication my ticket had an old date on it and was not accepted. With the help of a local translating for me they finally let me go to the plane at which point I was told the plane was full and they were not accepting any of the 15 or so passengers still waiting with me to get on. I think the flight attendants saw the look of horror on my face as I realized I was completely alone in a small town in Congo with only a few dollars left, no where to stay, and no other flights to Kinshasa for several days. I was the only woman in the crowd and the only “muzungu” (light skinned person). It was no longer an adventure…it had become a nightmare. But just as they were closing the doors to the plane I heard my name called. The flight attendants called me up and quickly ushered me to the last seat on the plane, amidst yells of frustration from those left on the tarmac. I’ll never know exactly why I got to get on but I didn’t dare ask questions at that point, I just sunk into my seat with a profound sense of relief and gratitude.

Now safe and sound here in Kinshasa I’ve met up with my friend Pakisa Tshimika, director of Mama Makeka House of Hope, who arranged much of this trip for me and with whom I will be partnering with on a community development project here. I have spent the past two days processing and recovering from all I’ve seen and experienced. Finally being able to rest an extreme exhaustion has overtaken me and I could barely function for a whole day. I feel emotionally raw as I am just beginning to come to terms with the suffering I’ve encountered. I am glad to have a few days here to gather myself, do laundry, re-pack and get ready to reunite with Pat in South Africa next week for a much anticipated holiday together.

I am full of ideas about my continued involvement here in Congo and am working on developing a plan which I look forward to sharing with you soon. I will try to post again later this week. Til then, peace to you all.

DRC Journal: Entry 3

2007-02-04T07:23:00.000-08:00

I spent some time at a child soldier repatriation center earlier in the week. Hundreds of young boys are brought here after having been rescued or escaped from enforced service in various militias. So many had stories of committing unspeakable atrocities...some could not even bear to remember their experiences. Talking and joking with them in my very limited Swahili it was hard to imagine these young, bright faces had seen and participated in so much violence. Childhoods stolen, innocence lost...what will become of them?

Yesterday I spent the day with the staff of Copare, a coalition of local peace and reconciliation organizations. I learned so much from these amazing Congolese human rights defenders about conflict resolution and trauma healing. They spent hours helping me understand some of the intricacies of the issues of violence, poverty, and politics in DRC. They were thrilled that I had come to see and learn for myself. They encouraged me that my experiences "on the ground" in DRC would help make me a much better advocate for peace in Congo when I return to the U.S. I especially connected with Pierre Zihindula, a kind and gentle father of 9 who along with his work in facilitating community dialogues for reconciliation is effecting social change from the roots up by challenging gender norms in his own family. He and his wife are raising their boys and girls with a genuine understanding of equality and respect in the face of cultural assumptions that devalue women. His story moved me with a sense of calling...in him I see the peacemaker I aspire to be.

Tomorrow I will head south to the Uvira region over 7 hours worth of horrible roads. I will be traveling with my friend Lisa, founder of Run For Congo Women, who is also in Bukavu now. We will spend a week in the bush visiting rural areas to meet participants in the Women For Women International empowerment program that have been sponsored as a result of Run For Congo Women. I will have the opportunity to meet many sisters who were sponsored by the Seattle Hike For Congo Women I organized last fall. I look forward to passing on greetings from those of you who pledged or participated in the hike. I also get to meet Furaha, the woman I personally sponsor and correspond with.

On February 11th I will head to Kinshasa and hope to post again sometime that week.
Kwa Heri! ...bye for now

DRC Journal: Entry 2

2007-02-02T22:22:00.000-08:00

Jambo! Habari gani? Greetings from Bukavu!
I have seen and experienced so much in the past week it feels
as though several weeks have passed already. I am on
the far east side of DRC on Lake Kivu, walking distance
from the Rwandan border. It is stunningly beautiful
here amidst the horrifying backdrop of a war zone.
The Congolese have a tenacity of spirit similar to
what I recall sensing from other war-affected people
during my travels in the middle east.

I am staying with a family of 9 here, experiencing a
taste of Congolese daily life. I am enjoying
plantains, cassava, peanuts, dried fish, mangos, and
bananas. i even had goat meat last night, but decided
to pass on the dried monkey meat. Unfortunately I've
had a bad case of "traveler's tummy" but am starting to
feel better now. The woman I am staying with, Yvette Kalumuna,
directs PAREC, a peace and reconciliation organization that is
working on an arms exchange program for the many
militias still roaming the mountains. She facilitates
dialogue with militia leaders and collects their
weapons in exchange for highly valued tin roofing
materials and bicycles. The weapons are then
destroyed during community gatherings - a practical
act of peacebuilding and a symbolic rejection of
violence. She is a brave and passionate woman and I
am deeply inspired by her committment to healing the
wounds of her country.

I spent today with Yvette's husband Dr. Dieudonne,
director of treatment for leprosy and TB in this
region for the ministry of health. He works closely
with the Leprosy Mission headed here by an Australian
woman named Maggie Mead who has lived here for 14
years, through three wars. Quite a woman! Leprosy is
still an issue here but new cases are decreasing.
Much of their work addresses the needs of families
affected by leprosy due to the disability it causes
and the associated stigmatization. TB is on the rise
here due to its connection with poverty, malnutrition,
and HIV. Many continue to die of this preventable
disease every day.

Yesterday I visited Panzi hospital especially known
for it's work with the multitude of rape victims from
the war. Thousands of women have been treated here
for rape-related injuries including many who were shot
and mutilated with sticks, knives, and gun barrels
resulting in fistulas. Doctors here specialize in
fistula operation and women travel here from far and
wide for a cure. I met one woman here who was raped
and tortured at the age of 17 during the height of the
war. She has been at the hospital, away from her
family for over 6 years now enduring one operation
after another. She said that she did not feel human
anymore and had no future.

I also met a precious 5-yr. old girl named Julie who
had just returned from 8 months of medical treament in
the US after being gang raped and shot by militia.
Last week I visited with women in a small village
outside of Bukavu who told their stories of being
raped and then shunned by their husbands, families,
and communities. I met women who are pregnant as a
result of rape and some who have also been infected
with HIV. The stories like these are unending.
Though most of the conflict related violence is
diminishing these women will continue to suffer for
years to come due to the physical, psycho-emotional,
and social wounds that have been inflicted on them.
My heart does not stop cracking open...
Even so, there is q sense of hope present. It is in
the air - a tangible desire for peace, stability, and
prosperity. People seem tired of just surviving.
They are careful not to be too optimistic as they have
seen the country plunge into war and political
instability all too many times. But leaders are
arising, choosing to forge ahead to develop a better
place for their children even in the face of
overwhelming odds.

...internet cafe closing... more to come...

DRC Journal: Entry 1

2007-01-22T10:34:00.000-08:00

Three days of gruelling travel...Seattle - DC - Johannesburg - Kinshasa...and I'm here in the Democratic Republic of Congo! It's hot and humid and very green. Kinshasa, the capitol, is buzzing with over 8 million people that all seem to be on the streets at the same time. As I sit here borrowing someone's laptop the electricity just went out, which happens often. Luckily we have water. I met an American who is studying Congolese music here yesterday who said that before we arrived they had not had water or electricity for 10 days.
I have met many interesting people... today I spent several hours with a doctor talking about women's issues in Congo particularly surrounding childbirth, which as a doula is of great interest to me. On Wednesday I head to Bukavu in eastern Congo which was where much of the conflict occurred and where many women are suffering.
I have to run as the sun has set and the mosquitos are starting to buzz around me. I will try to report again soon. Thanks to all for your prayers and well wishes!

A Small Stone In My Hand

2007-01-18T16:05:00.000-08:00

It’s a crazy week for me. I turned 35 on Tuesday, got a big zit on Wednesday, and am leaving for a 6-week journey through Africa tomorrow! Two years ago this month I saw an Oprah episode that changed my life. I know, corny, but true. It was a Lisa Ling report on the Democratic Republic of Congo. I was shocked. I had never heard anything about the 8-year war that had ravaged the country, leaving over 4 million dead in it’s wake (the highest death toll due to war on the planet since WWII). The level of sexual violence against women was unimaginable to me…their stories haunted me. I stayed up nights researching the situation online and journaling and weeping…over 1,000 continue to die every day as a result of the war…displacement, starvation, disease. Half of these are children under the age of five. But no one is talking about it

After growing up hearing stories about the Holocaust and wondering what I would have done if I had been on the planet during that time…Then being confronted with the massacre in Rwanda and wondering how I would explain my ignorance and inaction to my children someday…I had no choice but to speak out and speak up for these people whose voices seemed to be ignored by most of the planet.

I contacted Lisa Shannon in Portland who founded “Run For Congo Women” to raise sponsorships for Congolese women after she had seen the same Oprah episode. In September of 2006 I hosted a Hike for Congo Women in Seattle with 10 other friends. We raised $10,000 to sponsor women in the Congo through Women for Women International. Lisa and I also began working on a strategy to advocate on a wider grassroots level for the DRC. We soon discovered another group of representatives from several aid and advocacy organizations that were feeling compelled to develop a coalition focused on the DRC. We were invited to join the steering committee and have been working on a worldwide movement for the DRC ever since. Soon you will be able to visit the website for Global Congo Action which will offer many opportunities to get involved.

The Congo has a long history of exploitation and abuse. Rich with natural resources that have not benefited it’s own people for well over a century (in fact you probably own a small piece of the Congo…coltan is a mineral extracted from the DRC used in the production of cell phones), it’s potential to be a self-sustained and prosperous country is huge. Peace in the DRC with it’s enormous geographic expanse bordering nine other African countries would have a stabilizing influence on the whole continent. As Human Rights Watch put it, "If you want peace in Africa, then you have to deal with the biggest country right at its heart." Congo is no longer the ‘heart of darkness’ as some have referred to it, but instead as Time Magazine wrote in June 2006, “Congo represents the hope of Africa.” Yet, as author Adam Hochschild notes in “King Leopold’s Ghost”, the idea of the Congo thriving with full human rights and political, social, and economic independence is a “profound threat to the established order of most countries on earth.”

There are giants to be challenged, and I am just one of many young Davids with a small stone in my hand.

But why waste all that time and money on a trip when I could just send the money as aid to the Congo?

A Congolese friend of mine explained to me that westerners always want to “help” by either sending money, or going to “do a project”. But if you had a friend who had lost a loved one, you wouldn’t necessarily send them money or “do” something for them…you would just go and be with them, grieve with them. He said the Congolese need people who are willing to come without an agenda and just be with them. They are in mourning. It has not been lost on them that most of the planet knows nothing about their crisis. They need their stories to be heard. The following quote from an IRC report always pierces me:

"I am convinced now…that the lives of Congolese people no longer mean anything to anybody. Not to those who kill us like flies, our brothers who help kill us or those you call the international community…Even God does not listen to our prayers any more and abandons us." -Salvatore Bulamuzi, a member of the Lendu community whose entire family was killed in attacks on the town of Bunia, north-eastern DRC.

And so I go…not with any lofty agenda or glamorous project to do. I go to deliver the message that Congolese lives do matter. I go to learn. Yes, I will visit some projects and hospitals and churches, and maybe I will have opportunities to get involved in small ways…but mostly I will just listen. And I will be changed.

I hope that I will be a healing vessel to those I meet. I hope that my experiences there will help me mobilize more ‘young Davids with small stones in their hands’ in my community. I hope to become a mom sometime after this trip…and my deepest prayer is that this experience will help me pass on to my children a sense of connectedness with our human family, that they may be a healing force in our world because they understand this:

“Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly.” - Martin Luther King, Jr.

May this trip help me learn how to wear this garment of destiny with dignity and love, and how to throw small stones with courage and accuracy.

Stay tuned for reports during my travels as I have access to the internet.

2006 Run For Congo Women

2006-08-16T19:52:00.000-07:00

September 16th, 2006, All around the world people will be running, walking, biking, and swimming to raise awareness and funds for women in the Democratic Republic of Congo. My friend Lisa Shannon established this run all by herself last year, then since I met her last spring we've been working on a global campaign to raise awareness about the Congo crisis. Many people have heard about Lisa's run and want to participate, so this year it's YOUR TURN! Our goal is to raise $1 million. Please help us.

All of the info you need can be downloaded HERE. You can do it all by yourself or with a group. The most important thing is just to DO SOMETHING! The death toll will soon cross 5 million. Half of these deaths are children under the age of five. We must not continue to ignore this crisis. Let's stand up and declare that these lives matter and that we are choosing to take action in our own small way to make a difference in our world!

If you're close to Seattle, you can join us on Sat. Sept. 16th at 10am at the Rampart Lakes Trailhead for an 11 mile round trip hike (or any portion you are able to do). Otherwise, plan your own run or sponsor a woman in the DR Congo at Women For Women International. (Be sure to put "Run For Congo Women" in the "referred by" line, to be sure that your donation goes to the Congo.)

Also, THIS IS IMPORTANT: If you are a US citizen, please click HERE to send a letter to your congressman to support a bill for aid to the Congo.

Breathing Underwater

2006-08-16T19:28:00.000-07:00

I can't believe it's been 4 months since my last post.... EEEKS!
Well, I'm going to try to get back to it here. I am learning that life in the Pacific Northwest during the summer months is hectic, magical, beautiful, and very social. Unlike my summer experiences growing up in California, where the perpetual sunshine left few seasonal markers, and the heat drove everyone indoors; summers in Seattle beckon the groggy winter nappers, soggy from the unending spring rains to dry off in the warmth of the sun. The sea and the flowers are stunning and with evening light until at least 10pm, the nights are filled with friends and music. Along with all of the socializing and get-aways, my summer also included attending my first births as a doula (I'll write more later), to hosting house guests half a dozen times, to saying goodbye to my husband's grandmother (more on that later, too), to traveling to DC to work on the Congo campaign... Yep, I've been learning how to breathe underwater.

Coming Up For Air

2006-04-19T22:41:00.000-07:00

I've been swimming lately. I try to get to the pool at least twice a week for laps. It feels good. I'm even considering doing a triathlon sometime in the next year. Do you know that feeling when your lungs are aching and you just barely break the surface in time to gulp in some oxygen before heading under again? That's my life right now. Hence the sparce posting these days.
This moment, sitting here now to get some words out, is one little gasp of air for me in what feels like a marathon swim.
Since I returned from DC I've begun work on a national campaign to raise awareness and promote advocacy for the Democratic Republic of Congo. It's just me and my friend in Portland. It feels like a massive undertaking that some days I'm not sure I'm capable of while I sit between piles of papers in front of my computer at my little desk in my bedroom. But most days I just feel a sense of compelling passion... a fire in my belly.
Speaking of belly. During this time of birthing in my life, I've also decided to pursue a doula practice. In my Pilates work I have developed a specialty for pre/post-natal work, so it is a nice combo of skills to be able to offer my clientele. Plus I am hoping that I can teach less and have more hours to work on the campaign, but still have a source of income that requires less regular time.
Since my return from Africa last year, I had been searching for a healing art to practice that could be more transferable to a variety of places in the world. Although in my Pilates work I do get the opportunity to be a healing presence, it is not a very transferable practice in poorer places. As a doula, perhaps I will have the opportunity to support women through childbirth throughout the world... or at least learn from other cultures birthing practices. At any rate it seems to fit my path in life... caring for women, being part of an ancient sisterhood of healers. It speaks to the part of me that needs that compassionate one-on-one human connection, especially while the rest of my time is spent working on wide-scale social change at an idealogical and political level.
Aside from this I'm still doing a lot of mentoring for the International Rescue Committee and Children of Promise, along with serving on the Women's Human Rights Action Team for Amnesty International. I have also taken on the role of Social Justice Coordinator at my church. Somehow in the midst of everything I am still managing to care for myself... I sense it is an imperative for what lies ahead. So I've set up a Rolfing (deep tissue work) appointment once a month, I have my first dental appointment in years, I'm starting to see a Naturopath for general care, and I just had my eyes examined. I've committed to maintaining a real work-free "Sabbath" practice one day a week. Another chance to come up for air.
So, if my posts are few and far between for awhile, you'll know why. I'll try to keep you posted on the development of the campaign. We are desperately seeking a professional web designer to help us develop our site (preferably donated), and we need help getting a database set up, too, if anybody knows somebody out there. I am looking into options for donated office space now. I will probably be heading to the Congo in the fall.
OK, that's it for now. Going back under....

Letter to the Editor

2006-04-03T17:28:00.000-07:00

Here is a letter I just sent to my local newspapers. Please take a moment and send one to your local editors today, too. Feel free to cut and paste this one if you like:

Dear Editor,

April 6th marks the beginning of the Rwandan genocide 12 years ago when 800,000 people were murdered. We wring our hands and show great remorse for turning our backs as this holocaust occurred, ardently proclaiming, “Never again!”

Yet, over the past several years we have been silent bystanders to a conflict in the Democratic Republic of Congo claiming a death toll of over 4 million, the highest since World War II. Half of these deaths are children under the age of five.

Although it has been named the “world’s deadliest emergency” by Jan Egeland, the UN Under-Secretary-General for Humanitarian Affairs, only six minutes were devoted to the issue on the three major US television networks’ nightly newscasts in 2005 according to a report by Doctors Without Borders.

There is no question that the issues around the crisis are complex. But what is NOT complicated is that over 1200 innocent lives are being lost daily and thousands of women and girls are suffering as systematic rape is used as a weapon of war.

As a citizen of the world, I refuse to stand by and allow atrocities of this magnitude go unnoticed.

Please cover the war in the Congo.

A Dark Anniversary

2006-03-18T10:10:00.000-08:00

As we continue the death march of the Iraq war into a fourth year this week, let us mourn for over 33,000 innocent civilian lives along with over 2,300 US service men and women...all someone's loved one...all lost.

Please visit Baghdad Burning, a blog that I read regularly from one young Iraqi woman's perspective living in the midst of the horrors of war.

Let us pray for peace on this dark anniversary.

Speaking Truth to Power

2006-03-14T16:40:00.000-08:00

I just returned from four days in Washington DC attending the Ecumenical Days of Advocacy For Global Peace With Justice as social justice coordinator for Queen Anne United Methodist Church. It was an amazing experience and I’m all fired up! This year’s conference theme was “Challenging Disparity: The Promise of God – The Power of Solidarity.” The conference, including over 1,000 participants from various denominations around the country, offered a series of workshops and lectures on issues of US foreign and domestic policies ranging from the environment, security, economics, and health. We also received training on how to influence legislators most effectively.

I chose the Africa issues track as that is a big passion of mine. Our keynote speaker was Stephen Lewis, United Nations Secretary General’s Special Envoy for HIV/AIDS in Africa. What an amazing man (and Canadian, too!). If you ever have the chance to hear him speak I highly recommend it. He is poignant, witty, intelligent, and a wonderful story-teller. His talk was powerfully motivating to build political will to fund the fight against HIV-AIDS in Africa. During this talk I sat next to and had a chance to speak with Wahu Kaara, an intense and riveting woman who was nominated for a Nobel Peace prize last year and is currently running for the presidency of Kenya!

In between workshops my friend Lisa Shannon and I networked with a handful of wonderful organizations that were represented at this event, including Marie Clark Brill, Director of Public Education and Mobilization for Africa Action, who graciously offered her time and advice. We have asked her to continue mentoring us as we begin to establish the foundations of a campaign for peace in the Democratic Republic of Congo. Several other individuals and organizations have expressed interest in forming a coalition with us to build awareness and work for peace and justice in the DRC. In fact, one of the presenters was a Congolese man, who holds a graduate degree in conflict resolution. He will be helping us make contact with local peace activists and organizations in the DRC. We are definitely on a roll!!! Lisa and I anticipate heading to the Congo ourselves relatively soon for a fact-finding and coalition-building mission. We want to see for ourselves the situation there and ask the Congolese what they think about how we can most effectively help shape US policy towards their country (which, incidentally, is about to have their first democratic elections in 40 years!).

Yesterday we spent the entire day on Capitol Hill lobbying for the particular issues we had just spent the weekend being educated about. It was exhilarating and nerve-wracking. I met with the legislative aids of Congressman McDermott and Senators Murray and Cantwell. As the Senate is voting on the 2007 budget this week, it is a highly important time to make sure strategic HIV/AIDS funding is not cut any further. I presented several specific points relating to the needs represented and reminded them of the US pledge during the G8 summit to commit 1/3 of the necessary assistance towards the Global Fund to Fight AIDS, Tuberculosis, and Malaria. I also asked for further appropriations to fund the training and support of healthcare workers in impoverished countries, where even if funding for medication gets through, there is no one available to implement the program and get the medicine to the people.

I think it went really well, of course my reps are pretty much on the same page so it didn’t take a lot of convincing. But there was a lot of talk about the deficit and where is the money going to come from. My answer is simple: our country needs a budget that represents the sanctity of life. If we cut back on funding for programs that represent death and destruction, we would have more than enough for programs that value life… and still plenty left to go towards our deficit! For example, while the Senate votes this week to decide if the 2007 budget will include $4 billion towards fighting AIDS, they will also vote on an appropriations bill for almost $70 billion more for the Iraq war (with $200 billion already spent!). One choice could save millions of lives, while the other will continue to take thousands of lives and greatly increase our deficit. Click HERE and HERE if you are US citizen and want to take action on these issues today.

Between appointments with my state reps I attended an interfaith prayer vigil for peace in Iraq on the Capitol lawn. Here I met Mike Ferner, a Vietnam veteran, peace activist, and writer. Since February 15th Mike and four others from Voices for Creative Nonviolence have been on a fast entitled “The Winter of our Discontent” to commemorate the third anniversary of worldwide protest against the Iraq invasion. The fast will end on March 20th, the date on which the US invaded Iraq three years and thousands of lives ago. Check out this interview with Mike.

Before heading home I also met with Women for Women International, an amazing organization that I promote as often as possible and who will be working with us on our campaign for peace in the DRC.

Exhausted, yet… invigorated. There is a lot of work to be done. Hope you will join in solidarity to challenge disparity and speak Truth to power!

Grid Blog for International Women's Day: Being Human

2006-03-07T22:15:00.000-08:00

Several years ago I read the following passage and a grieving welled up from a place so deep within me I had not previously been aware of its existence. The weeping that erupted and lasted for hours shocked me. My visceral reaction to these words betrayed a profound spiritual wound that had been ignored and even shamed throughout my many years in the church. I realized that my trust in the Christ figure I professed to serve was severely marred by my equation with Him to patriarchal figures and attitudes within the Christian faith. It was a moment of empowering Truth, the beginning of healing. It was the first time as a woman that I could recall feeling a sense of solidarity with Christ…and it made me love Him with more abandon than ever.

Here is that passage from Dorothy Sayers’ “The Human-Not-Quite-Human” essay:

“Perhaps it is no wonder that the women were first at the Cradle and last at the Cross. They had never known a man like this Man—there never has been such another. A prophet and teacher who never nagged at them, never flattered or coaxed or patronized; who never made arch jokes about them, never treated them either as “The women, God help us!” or “The ladies, God bless them!”; who rebuked without querulousness and praised without condescension; who took their questions and arguments seriously; who never mapped out their sphere for them, never urged them to be feminine or jeered at them for being female; who had no axe to grind and no uneasy male dignity to defend; who took them as he found them and was completely unselfconscious. There is no act, no sermon, no parable in the whole Gospel that borrows its pungency from female perversity; nobody could possibly guess from the words and deeds of Jesus that there was anything “funny” about woman’s nature.
But we might easily deduce it from His contemporaries, and from His prophets before Him, and from His Church to this day. Women are not human; nobody shall persuade that they are human; let them say what they like, we will not believe it, though One rose from the dead.”

On this, International Women’s Day, let us celebrate our Humanness! Let us dismantle the edifice in the church that keeps women relegated to non-human roles. Let us smash Patriarchy, but also grieve for the brokenness of mankind. Let us remember women in the Congo, Darfur, Afghanistan, India, and so many other places where the perverse rule of Patriarchy is stealing dignity and destroying lives. Let us lift our voices and join Christ's song of Emancipation!

Please visit Grid Blog for International Women's Day to read more thoughts.

Pangea Cinema Day

2006-03-02T15:50:00.000-08:00

Last night I had the pleasure of attending a talk by documentary film-maker Jehane Noujaim. Her recent Control Room, a controversial look behind the scenes of the news coverage of the Iraq war including stunning interviews with Al Jazeera journalists and the US military press secretary, is a must see—go rent it now!

Just one week ago she won the prestigious TEDprize. Last year’s recipient, Bono, founded ONE as a result of this prize. The prize includes funding for the recipients “wish” to change the world and must be accomplished in one year’s time.

Noujaim’s wish stems from her own experiences seeing how images can be transformational, how it can take a viewer across borders into another persons reality. Her hope is that by showing the stories of people from different religious, cultural, racial, and economic backgrounds, a bridge of understanding and peace will be built:

"Imagine a day when you have everyone coming together from around the world and sharing a communal experience of watching a film all together, all at the same time, from Times Square to Ramallah to the side of the Great Wall of China. If we can create this global day of film, it can create momentum and provide a platform for independent voices and independent filmmakers to get out there".

This wish, known as “Pangea Cinema Day” (referring to when the earth’s continents were one landmass), is in the very beginning stages of development, but I for one am on board. What an exciting opportunity to be a part of. A single day when human beings around the planet come together to be transformed through the experience of another's story. There is talk of a global discussion period to take place after the film viewing, organized by Google. So keep your finger on the pulse of this one, it’s got serious potential.

Mall-Wart

2006-02-27T21:38:00.000-08:00

If you haven't yet seen Walmart: The High Cost of Low Price, I recommend it. If you care at all about issues surrounding corporate greed, workers rights, womens rights, globalization, and the international economy, this documentary offers an accessible window. It is not a politically partisan film, in fact it is quite patriotic. Real folks in home town settings provide the backdrop for the horrific truth uncovered about the Walmart machine. Reknowned for their appalling employee treatment, this multi-billion dollar corporation is succeeding at strangling "mom and pop" businesses across the US and Canada, while purchasing cheap merchandise from factories where human rights are grossly violated in places like China.

I hope you will take the time to educate yourself about this issue and consider the consequences of what you choose to buy and from whom. This issue is not just limited to Walmart, other "big box" corporations are guilty of the same offenses, but Walmart is by far the wealthiest.

As consumers, our voice is powerful! Let's raise ours to demand more social and economic responsibility from greedy corporations, and to choose local and Fair Trade whenever possible.

Open Letter to the Iraqi People

2006-02-19T22:01:00.000-08:00

Dear Iraqi People-

It is with a heavy heart that I write these words to you. As a fellow human being I am deeply grieved by the circumstances you find yourselves in. As a US citizen I am ashamed of the decisions leaders that represent me have made that have caused you so much suffering.

We all know that Saddam was a corrupt and cruel leader. But it now appears very unlikely that weapons of mass destruction were being produced under his rule. Even if they had been, I never believed it was our right or responsibility to preemptively attack a people that had not shown outright aggression towards us (and I want to be clear, I understand it is people we attacked, not a country, or a government, or military coordinates, or even terrorists). Besides, how many other ruthless dictators have we overlooked and even helped to put in power throughout the world? Also, the ridiculous unfounded connection between Iraq and 9/11 is an insult to my intelligence. It is so dishonoring to those who lost their lives on 9/11 that their death has been used to justify a war that has taken hundreds of thousands of innocent civilians lives in Iraq.

I remember the days leading up to the war. I was in a dark place. I felt a compelling sense of foreboding and sadness. I wept for hours. Not usually a politically active person, I began joining campaigns for peace then and have not stopped since. The God I believe in teaches me to love my enemy and to turn my cheek. I refuse to believe there is such a thing as a “just war”. No war is just. Innocent people die. That is not justice.

I recently saw some documentary film footage from an Italian journalist working in Iraq. This footage has been kept very quiet in the US media. In it the destruction of entire villages, and the decimation of innocent men, women, and so many children are clearly evident caused by the US led fight against the “insurgency”. In fact, there is documented evidence of the use of white phosphorus, a chemical weapon commonly referred to as “Whiskey Pete” by US military personnel. Somewhat similar to Napalm, this weapon indiscriminately burns everything in its path. The carnage I viewed was gruesome and shocking. Most of the victims were women and children and the elderly. The hypocrisy symbolized by the US military using such a weapon in Iraq is mind-boggling!

As the wife of a former Marine, I am also very sensitive to the thousands of young American lives that are being sacrificed in this senseless war. I am deeply concerned about the mental and emotional well being of these men and women laying their lives down for an increasingly hopeless situation. I realize that some of them, in their brokenness, fear, and confusion, have lashed out against you, perpetuating the reign of terror you continue to endure.

I will continue to work for peace and true justice. But somehow in the midst of this long and wearisome journey, I simply wanted you to know that there are many of us here that care for you. There are many of us that do not subscribe to the rhetoric of our media and political spin-doctors. There are many of us that feel a burden of responsibility towards you due to the actions that have been taken against you in our name. There are many of us that gather regularly for peace marches and demand answers and action of our government. There are many of us that pray for you. There are many of us that weep for you.

I am one of those.

From the depths of my heart I pray,
Peace be with you-

Tonya Sargent

Troubadour of Truth

2006-02-14T16:26:00.000-08:00

Last night Pat and I celebrated Valentine’s at the swanky Triple Door. The guest artist was Vusi Mahlasela, a South African freedom singer known as “The Voice.” We had previously seen him on a fantastic documentary called “Amandla!” about the pivotal role of music in South Africa during the anti-apartheid revolution. What a treat to have the opportunity to see and hear him live. A few rows behind us sat a fellow South-African songwriter, now Seattleite, Dave Matthews, who had also come to pay homage to the sheer power and purity of this amazing poet.

Vusi’s songs took us on a journey through brutality to beauty. I wept and laughed as I was reminded of my own brief but moving encounters with the people and places of South Africa last summer. But his songs encompass more than the trials and victories of South Africa, indeed they speak to the deepest struggles and desires of humanity.

His presence—his voice—is so full of healing and hope. Here are just a few of the poignant messages he bathed us so eloquently in…

“Forgiveness is more about the forgiver than the receiver.”

“We are all now immigrants to a global village. Your neighbors troubles are your troubles.”

“I can never fully enjoy my freedom until the (oppressed peoples of the world) are also free.” (Here he spoke specifically of the plight of Indigenous Australians.)

Thank you, Vusi, for renewing my hope that one voice really does make a difference, and for giving me courage to raise my own!

Forgotten Emergency: A Report on the Democratic Republic of the Congo

2006-02-09T20:40:00.000-08:00

Please visit Global Girl Network to read my latest article.
It represents hours of research and big piece of my heart!
Hope you'll be inspired to take action.
I'll appreciate your feedback.

Mission Statement

2006-01-23T20:35:00.000-08:00

Here is a first draft of a new mission statement that is helping me focus my passions:

TO RESPECT THE IMAGE OF GOD IN ALL LIVING THINGS AND TO ENCOURAGE OTHERS TO DO THE SAME

As Ghandi once said, “If one cannot find God in his neighbor, one need not look further.”
I am so challenged by this idea, especially when one’s neighbor is also one’s enemy. Christ’s provocative messages about turning our other cheek to our enemy, and real non-violence defined as not even hating another in one’s heart strike a deep chord in me. If Love and Peace are truly the pillars of my belief system, then my only acceptable actions and reactions must be rooted there. How many people (my perceived enemies: Lovers of Power, Haters of Peace, Oppressors of Women, Abusers of Children, Liars, Racists, Murderers) have I held hostage by my own disdain, intolerance, judgment, even hate? How can I begin to hope for transformation in the world unless, while exposing and protesting the actions of my “enemies”, I am also respecting the image of God in them, however dimly it is being reflected? Am I capable of releasing the bondage of hate I hold them in, and freeing them to the healing power of reconciliation? Is that even possible? I must believe it to be, or there is no hope.

I can visualize how this mission statement has already begun to inform my actions, and I desire it to continue to shape my ways of seeing, thinking, and being. It requires a new equality, in which I care for the powerless as equal siblings in our human family. It requires an honoring of the earth, as I recognize the breath of God in every creature, cloud, and blade of grass. It requires a nurturing of my self: body, mind, soul. And to encourage other’s to recognize the sacred in themselves and in all living things speaks to my role as writer, artist, peacemaker, and activist.

In the recently released film “ONE”, Father Thomas Keating is asked what his one wish for the world would be, this is his response (listen here):

“One wish for the world? Well, it could only be one thing, and that is that it might experience it’s destiny, which is not necessarily to get rid of all suffering, but to be able to lead human life in a divine way. That’s the project as far as I can see. And each of us is sort of a new way in which God can experience what it’s like to be human. So what seems to me the most desirable goal for ourselves is to allow God to manifest himself in us. This is by manifesting Divine Love in everything we do every moment. It doesn’t mean big things, but that intention of serving, of giving, and of welcoming everybody into our lives who wants to come.”

May this sacred wish live in me.

Birthday Aspirations: Self Care

2006-01-23T18:25:00.000-08:00

BODY:
-drink more water (64oz. seems impossible, but a good goal)
-exercise a minimum of 3 times a week (pilates, dance, swim, hike, bike)
-find a doctor in Seattle and schedule an annual exam
-get my teeth cleaned
-return to a body work practitioner (rolfing, massage, acupuncture)
-do a “cleanse” program

MIND/CREATIVITY:
-allocate time for reading
-allocate time for writing
-allocate time for research
-allocate time to practice Spanish
-take at least one more continuing ed. course this year
-take another jewelry making class

SOUL/SPIRITUALITY:
-learn more about centering prayer
-practice some form of contemplation daily (journal, meditate, examen)
-go on at least one spiritual retreat

MARRIAGE:
-allocate at least one evening per week as “date night”
-schedule monthly relationship maintenance meetings
-go on a marriage retreat

HOUSE & HOME:
-create a menu plan
-create a housework schedule that is efficient and practical
-allocate time to work on budget and bills
-allocate weekends to help Pat with remodeling
-allocate time for yard work

FAMILY & FRIENDS:
-allocate time to build relationship within my circle
-discover creative ways to serve my circle
-prioritize time with older members of my circle
-create opportunities to widen the circle

Birthday Aspirations: World Care

2006-01-23T18:19:00.000-08:00

-Get regularly involved with Seattle’s homeless community

-Host and help organize social justice awareness and action events in community

-Build relationship with and serve my neighborhood

-Educate myself about current socio-political issues locally and globally

-Participate in peacemaking and social justice activism via online campaigns, letter writing, phone calls, marches, and rallies

-Be Green: consume less; recycle; buy fair-trade, local, sustainable, 2nd-hand

-Write to tell the stories of the suffering and oppressed, to raise awareness and provoke action

-Research and consider purchasing a bio-diesel fueled automobile

-Ride my bike more

-Develop personal relationships with, serve, and learn from individuals that represent communities and issues I feel passionate about

-Discover ways to stand in solidarity with those who suffer, lifting them up to the Great Healer

Birthday Journal

2006-01-16T18:14:00.000-08:00

Today is my birthday.

Over the past season I’ve watched the light fade (literally in the Pacific Northwest!), I’ve waited through Advent, then celebrated the coming of the Light with Christmas and the solstice. Now with the New Year and my birthday so close together it is a time of reflection and review of the past and a re-visioning of the future for me. This is a bittersweet time of letting go and saying goodbye, while at the same time opening my heart and mind to welcome new things. It is a time of death and birth; mourning and celebration.

I have never been quite so aware of this duality as I am this year. Over the past several weeks I have been stunned by the news of so many lives lost in my community. None have been my closest friends and family, but a childhood friend was killed in a car accident, new friends had a miscarriage, a dear friend lost her father, a blogger buddy lost her mom, and several other well-known and loved members connected to my circle have passed away recently. Concurrently, a number of my closest friends and family have given birth during this season.

It is almost as if life sped up around me for a moment and all the dizzying beauty, pain, wonder, and loss converged…and my heart could barely keep itself from flying apart into tiny broken pieces. So I’ve taken the time to slow down and look within at what is dying and birthing in my life…

I mourn the loss of my life as a dancer. Once a professional dancer, I lived and breathed a dancer’s life—performing, choreographing, teaching, rehearsing, touring. It was my passion.

But after taking some time off to recover from burn out and an injured back (during which time I also got married and moved to Seattle) suddenly I am realizing that the life I once knew and loved as a dancer is dead. It will never exist again. My back injury is chronic and will be something I have to deal with the rest of my life. And my new role as wife (and possibly mother in the next years), writer, and activist, has caused my focus and priorities to change. It’s not that I will never dance again in some capacity, but I am now fully accepting that it will never be the same and I am allowing the pain of that realization to sink in. It is a profound loss of a great love of my life. I grieve it.

Yet in my grief I am pregnant with a passion that has been evolving in my life for many years, now quickly growing within me. I am filled with hope and excitement as I give birth to my developing role as human rights activist, peacemaker, and story-gatherer.

It is a lovely irony for me to share my birthday with one of the greatest human rights activists and peacemakers of all time, Martin Luther King Jr. So I take this day to write down my “aspirations” for this year, not “resolutions” provoked by guilt, to stop doing this and stop doing that. Instead I revisit my mission statement and consider my life philosophy and write down some positive things I hope to incorporate into my life to better care for myself and my world during this, my 34th year on our planet.

I will share those next…

May God Be With Her

2006-01-10T22:12:00.000-08:00

Tonight I lit a candle for Jill Carroll, 28 year old free-lance journalist, abducted in Iraq.
In my deep dreams, I am her. A journalist traveling to dangerous places to tell the stories of our troubled world. But here I sit in my warm, safe home... wishing she could be here too.

A Song in the Night

2006-01-10T19:29:00.000-08:00

In October 2004, Cecile joined the Women for Women International Program. A teenager when she was raped by a militia guard in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, Cecile had a little girl named Sylvie. Cecile’s life has made her old for her 19 years. These are her words:

Other women were married by choice, but I was married by force. Other girls who were raped were luckier than me; they did not end up pregnant like me. I would say to myself: If I could only go back and be a girl again. That’s impossible! What if Sylvie could go back in my belly? That’s impossible, I would say to myself.

When I first came to Women for Women International, I said I would not tell Sylvie of the circumstances surrounding her birth. I would tell her that my husband was her biological father. But now, I no longer believe that can be done. Now I am asking myself, what will I tell her when she asks who her father is? What will I say? The fathers of the other children are teachers, merchants, but Sylvie will learn that her father was a killer, a rapist who spent his life spilling the blood of others.

I ask myself questions during the hours of the night when I cannot sleep. I cannot find answers to all the questions that I have. The morning comes and I wake up without ever having closed my eyes during the night.

I have begun to feel the pain like I felt after escaping my life as a sex slave. Since then, I have my period twice a month. I feel pain all around my pelvis. I cannot walk 100 meters without feeling dizzy and feeling pain at my lower abdomen and my back. I went to get treated but I refused to be touched by a male doctor. I found a nice woman doctor who told me the problem is I have thoughts that my age cannot support and my body is troubled.

The burden of my thoughts makes me fear that one day I will go crazy. Each thought leads me deeper and deeper into myself. When my eyes open while in the dark in my room and I cannot fall asleep, I begin to interrogate myself. If there was a way to be sure that God would hear me, I would send a letter and wait for his response. If I cannot send him a letter, I need to find another means to communicate with him. I wish I could ask him all of my questions.

One night, as I lay in my bed and my head was spinning with all the questions, I started singing. It was around two in the morning. My mother woke up and asked why I was singing so late. I never wanted her to know how deeply troubled I am. That would worry her. I simply told her that I just wanted to sing. She was afraid because a lot of thieves circulate the neighborhood around this time of the night. She asked me not to sing. I stopped singing and was awake for a long time.

I wonder when I will cease to have all of these worries.

(Excerpted from "Outreach", a newsletter by Women for Women International)

Welcome 2006

2006-01-01T19:29:00.000-08:00

Wow... the holidays, traveling, parties, and a nasty flu have had their way with me. Sorry for the long silence. I've missed my new blogger friends these past weeks, can't wait to catch up.
In the meantime, here is a poem to start this year out with:

The Healing Time

Finally on my way to yes
I bump into
all the places
where I said no
to my life
all the untended wounds
the red and purple scars
those hieroglyphs of pain
carved into my skin,
my bones,
those coded messages
that send me down
the wrong street
again and again
where I find them
the old wounds
the old misdirections
and I lift them
one by one
close to my heart
and I say holy
holy

-by Pesha Joyce Gertler, Seattle’s poet populist

Open House

2005-12-17T22:56:00.000-08:00

I’ve spent a great deal of my life wandering around, visiting fascinating places and meeting amazing people. In my travels I’ve gathered up a treasure trove of beautiful experiences, but have never paused long enough anywhere to allow roots to find their way into the earth I’ve stood on.

I have been in Seattle now for exactly two years, during which time I married Pat, we bought a house, and we adopted two cats. Wow! I think I’ve sprung a root or two!!

Although I’ve always loved the idea of “community”, until now it has only been a theory I’ve longed to explore. After being in a small town in Zimbabwe last summer and witnessing the interconnectedness of neighbors, family, and friends, I came home inspired to find ways to reach out in my neighborhood. In the small African village there is a natural dependence on one another that supports strong community bonds. Here we prize our independence to the point of isolation. We have so much and are so busy, we don’t have the time or the apparent need for one another. My Zimbabwean friends find it hard to believe that many Americans don’t even know the names of their neighbors across the street.

Pat and I have made it a point to introduce ourselves to the neighbors on our street and have gotten to know one or two of them fairly well. But, I thought it was time we made more of an effort to develop bonds in our little “village”. So last week I handed out invitations around our block: A Holiday Open House—An opportunity to get to know your neighbors. I baked up a bunch of goodies and mulled some spiced cider, cleaned up the house and lit the candles. Then we sat on our couch and waited...

Suddenly I realized that no one was going to come. What was I thinking? Who would want to go to a complete strangers home during the middle of the busiest season of the year? My heart began to sink as the minutes passed. Just because I was gung-ho about “building community” in our neighborhood, why should I assume anyone else was interested?

But then there was a knock. An older couple that lives two houses down tentatively made their way into our living room. As I poured some cider for them, another knock. Then another. Soon our small home was overflowing with neighbors, drinking cider, eating goodies, meeting, and greeting.

There were rumors of an Olympic rower that lived somewhere in our neighborhood. There were hushed stories of the alleged murder that occurred in the house on the corner over a decade ago. There was debate about bio-diesel cars, and whether or not a tow truck was the best way to pull down the laurel bushes that grow incessantly on our streets. Favorite artists were discussed. Golf tournaments were planned. My Africa photo album made the rounds, while two little boys almost pulled our Christmas tree down.

We soon discovered that we were in the midst of a beautifully diverse community…there is the retired carpenter, the zoologist, the Pearl Harbor survivor, the gardener, the new mom, the grandmother. There are Asian-Americans, African-Americans, Hispanics, Buddhists, Catholics, Atheists, Democrats, Republicans, and Green-Party Hippies. You name it, our little neighborhood has got it! It’s fabulous!!!

Earlier, before everyone had arrived I had nailed a “hamsa” symbol by our door. It is an ancient figure of a hand with an “eye” in the middle of it, once used to ward off the “evil eye”. As I hung it in our entry, I prayed that it would symbolize a hand of blessing on all who entered and exited our home. And as each of our neighbors made their way out, thanking us for giving them the opportunity to gather together and get acquainted, I felt that hand of blessing on each of them, and especially on Pat and I. What a gift it had been for us to see our home full of new faces eager to “build community” with one another. I could practically feel my newly sprouted roots working their way into the earth I stood on.

For the first time in a long time, I have found home.

I pray our home will become known as The Open House to our friends and neighbors. A welcoming place of refuge, peace, comfort, laughter, healing…A place that those who enter and depart from feel blessed.

What's in a name?

2005-12-15T13:11:00.000-08:00

I recently received the following comment:

“I am sure you are not aware of this, but calling yourself a "gypsy girl" is very offensive because "gypsy" is the derogatory term for Roma people, of whom there are 14 million citizens in Europe alone. They are not "wanderers" in most countries at this point; they are however desperately in need of the kind of human rights activism you seem to espose.”

Here is my response:

Dear Anonymous,

I appreciate your input.

In fact I have been involved with humanitarian aid in Roma villages in eastern Europe and care very much for this forgotten people group. But my understanding of the term "gypsy" encompasses a multitude of once nomadic cultures from many countries throughout history, not just the Roma.

According to the "Gypsy Lore Society", an academic group focusing on studying the broad history of gypsy culture:

"In their native languages, each of the groups refers to itself by a specific name, but most translate that name as "Gypsy" when speaking English."

It is certainly not considered a racial slur.

In my work I have witnessed first-hand the terrible racism directed towards the Roma people, but did not find that the description "gypsy" was of particular offense. It was instead made known through general attitudes, economic policies, and acts of violence.

In contemporary usage the word "gypsy" is often metaphoric; A poetic reference to a way of life used to describe certain types of music, dance, clothing, and decor. In this sense it has a very positive connotation: artsy, free, bohemian, non-conformist, non-materialistic.

This is the way I have chosen to reference the word. Anyone who knows me even a little, realizes that it would never be my intention to offend any people group. But, if after further research I discover that it is indeed harming the world in some way to use this name on my blog, I will gladly choose another name.

Anybody else have thoughts on this?

Crisis of Compassion

2005-12-13T13:23:00.000-08:00

"Of all countries on the continent, South Africa is the one where you will most likely hear the words, hope and transformation. Larger-than-life heroes such as Desmond Tutu and Nelson Mandela still inspire the nation with the power of grace and reconciliation. AIDS presents a wholly different crisis from the one posed by an entrenched apartheid government. That was a crisis of theology and of justice. This is a crisis of compassion, requiring not a change in laws and government, but of hearts. We can look at the children with stolen futures, at an entire continent whose future hangs in the balance, and ask questions of God. Or we can look at the same problems and realize that these are God's questions to us. Who cares about AIDS in Africa?"

-Philip Yancey, “Finding God in Unexpected Places”

Bush Meets St. Peter

2005-12-12T18:50:00.000-08:00

This post is a must read!

Human Rights Day

2005-12-10T07:03:00.000-08:00

Today is Human Rights Day. It has been celebrated since December 10th, 1948, when the United Nations first adopted the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. This year, in the aftermath of Abu Ghraib and the current reports of secret CIA prisons, the theme is significant:

Torture and Global Efforts to Combat It

Here are some excerpts from UN Secretary General Kofi Annan’s message today:

Fifty-seven years after the Universal Declaration of Human Rights prohibited all forms of torture and cruel, inhuman or degrading treatment or punishment, torture remains unacceptably common. Recent times have witnessed an especially disturbing trend of countries claiming exceptions to the prohibition on torture based on their own national security perceptions.

Let us be clear: torture can never be an instrument to fight terror, for torture is an instrument of terror.

Humanity faces grave challenges today. The threat of terror is real and immediate. Yet fear of terrorists can never justify adopting their methods. Nor can we be complacent about the broader prevalence of cruel and inhuman punishment, which in so many of our societies disproportionately affects the most vulnerable people: the imprisoned, the politically powerless and the economically deprived. Instead, we must respond to this evil wherever we find it by reaffirming humanity’s most basic values.

Today, on Human Rights Day, let us recommit ourselves to the principles of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, and let us rededicate ourselves to wiping the scourge of torture from the face of the earth.

For an interesting debate on the issue of torture visit NPR.

To take action, please visit Amnesty International.

More Thoughts on Giving vs. Sharing

2005-12-07T22:19:00.000-08:00

"Real Change" is a Seattle weekly paper sold by the homeless, focusing on social justice issues. Here is an editorial excerpt by executive director Timothy Harris from the last issue. He's specifically refering to Thanksgiving, but the issue is true of the holidays in general... and of the rest of the year for that matter.

What are we to make of Thanksgiving? For homeless folks there is a vast circuit of turkey, cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes, and pumpkin pie to be navigated. The mailings and the billboards begin in September. "Your contribution will ensure that no one goes hungry on Thanksgiving Day."

As if that were the problem.

Last week...the House passed a budget proposal that slashed funding for poor people's programs. Medicaid. Food stamps. Support for childcare. Even child support enforcement has been targeted. The legislation was quickly passed, in time to recess for the Thanksgiving holiday.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Since 2001, the number of poor in the United States has grown by 4 million. The number of people without health insurance has grown to over 45 million. Meanwhile, over 50 percent of all 2004 income went to the top fifth of households, with the biggest gains going to the top five percent and one percent.

This is the sort of radical inequality that undermines democracy itself.

Thanksgiving has a lot going for it. But the idea of being thankful needs to genuinely extend to concern for others. Social progress is nothing if not a continual enlargement fo the definition of who matters.

This was the radical message of Jesus Christ that those who have formed a political movement in his name seem to have missed. When we place the least among us first, we realize the kingdom of heaven here on earth.

These are extraordinarily mean times. The shortsighted and ruthless greed that drives national priorities seems to have no limits. It's easy to feel as if there is little to be done, to retreat into private concerns and individual priorities.

We must instead take up the challenge of our times. An authentic Thanksgiving celebration must embrace the issues of what can be done for others. How can we enlarge our definition of community?

Thanksgiving has a become a national celebration of charity. What we need is a holiday to celebrate the idea of justice.

For another profound perspective on the difference between charity and solidarity, check out Christy's post.

Also, Mike's post.

Tagged for Sevens

2005-12-04T23:23:00.000-08:00

From Bobbie

Seven Things to Do Before I Die:

1. speak Spanish fluently
2. have a starring role in an amazing film
3. journey through the mountains of Tibet
4. give birth to a child, or adopt one… or both?
5. learn an Irish jig
6. become more of who I really am
7. change the world

Seven Things I Cannot Do:

1. stop making lists
2. make a good pie crust
3. keep a bowling ball out of the gutter
4. a triple pirouette
5. stop eating chocolate
6. keep a dry eye when someone else cries
7. be in the same room with a spider

Seven Things that Attract Me to My Husband [romantic interest, best friend, whomever]:

1. his ocean-colored eyes
2. his laughter
3. the silver in his hair
4. his generous spirit
5. the way he plays his bass
6. how he holds and pets our kitties
7. that he brings me a glass of water every night, and that he gets up and turns the heater on for me in the morning so that it will be warm for me when I crawl out of bed (oops, I guess that makes 8!)

Seven Things I Say Most Often:

1. I can’t believe it’s raining again (still getting used to this pacific northwest weather)
2. what should we have for dessert?
3. …sigh
4. I hate this piece of $%#! computer!
5. ooooh, my little munchkinheads (while gritting my teeth)
6. how’s your body feeling today? (to my pilates clients)
7. I’m so intolerant of intolerant people….hmmm

Seven Books (or series) I Love:

1. Walking on Water: Reflections on Faith and Art – L’Engle
2. The Secret Life of Bees – Kidd
3. Seeking Peace – Arnold
4. Between the Dreaming and the Coming True – Benson
5. Embodied Prayer – Snowber
6. Selected Poems by e. e. cummings
7. Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee - Brown

Seven Movies I Would Watch Over and Over Again:

1. The Sound of Music
2. Andy Goldsworthy: Rivers and Tides
3. Ghandi
4. Breakfast Club
5. Hero
6. Casablanca
7. Jackass: The Movie (shhh…don’t tell)

seven bloggers to tag: christy, lisa, idelette, anj, rachelle, sarah, kristin

Giving vs. Sharing

2005-12-03T10:50:00.000-08:00

I’ve been thinking a lot about the difference between giving and sharing lately. Especially this time of year when there’s suddenly a lot of talk about giving to the poor…but is there any sharing happening?

Giving has the potential to construct an artificial hierarchy, with the giver superior to the receiver. This kind of power relationship is too often fraught with condescension and pride, easing the giver’s conscience, and demoralizing the receiver. As David Ruis commented at a recent Off the Map conference, giving can be a form of sanitized benevolence, self-focused and exploitive, devoid of any true compassion.

So then what does it mean to share… it requires humility to walk with one another, to give and receive with mutual respect, to appreciate our deep need for one another.

It is the difference between charity and solidarity. Charity is cheap sympathy…Solidarity calls for true sacrifice and commitment.

For me this means I can no longer just hand out food to the homeless without even knowing their names. (In fact a real act of solidarity would be to stay with them on the streets for a day, a week, or more, to experience what life is really like for them…not sure I’m ready for that yet. But I want to get there.) I cannot just send money to Africa, without knowing and loving real people dying of AIDS and malaria and hunger. I cannot mentor a refugee family without embracing my own experiences of oppression and loss. I cannot care for a child of incarcerated parents without making my own heart vulnerable to the inevitable wounding of an angry, hurting soul.

I am compelled to engage in the lives of the people I wish to serve…to enter into their experience and really dwell there; To listen to their stories; To struggle with them in their cause; To sit down and eat at the same table with them; To receive the gifts they have to offer; To learn a little more about life from them.

In sharing, I realize that I am more whole when these—the poor, the disenfranchised, the oppressed—are at my side and that I desperately need them in my life.

As I learn to share, I am discovering that as a Nairobi saying goes…

I am who we are.

Give Us Strength

2005-11-30T15:04:00.000-08:00

Abandoned after birth in Natalspruit Hospital in the Gauteng Province of South Africa, his little body was already shutting down. In a country with the highest HIV/AIDS infection rate in the world, his desperate mother was probably very near death herself. Infants born into this suffering develop symptoms rapidly: respiratory infection, liver and spleen enlargement, emaciation, stunted neurological development, and painful skin conditions. As this child’s body wasted away, his head became swollen and a CT scan confirmed that his brain tissue was already shrinking away in response to the disease.

Then the kind and brave women from Lambano Sanctuary found him. They gathered him up and brought him to their home in Johannesburg hoping they could nurse him to health, but knowing that more likely their role would be as comforters as he journeyed to his death. But something called hope grew within him, flashed through the pain in his wide eyes, and refused to let him go. He knew he was loved.

Siphamandla, meaning “give us strength”, responded well to antiretroviral drugs for two years before developing a resistance to them. No one knows how long his body will be able to repress the viral load or what will happen if he has to go on the drugs again. But today this AIDS orphan is fully present and thriving.

When I met Siphamandla this summer—four years old, running across the playground, bounding onto my lap like an overgrown puppy dog—I could see the hope still twinkling in his smiling eyes. His joy, sensitivity, and affection transparently display the greatest needs of our human condition: to live, love, and be loved.

For me this son of Africa embodies the prayer of a people, a continent, a world… Give us strength. May it be my prayer and yours as we continue to seek a cure, to raise awareness, to fight for accessible medication for the poor, to care for the sick, and above all—to love one another.

Thursday, December 1st is World AIDS Day. Wear a red ribbon, say a prayer, tell others, take action!

To learn about Lambano Sanctuary and how you can help, visit:
http://www.lambano.org.za/

Tis the Season to Consume...

2005-11-28T21:48:00.000-08:00

How did the season traditionally about Giving become so filled with Consuming?
I was sickened and embarrassed to hear the news stories of greed, violence, and immaturity demonstrated by crazed holiday shoppers on the day after Thanksgiving (a time presumably dedicated to humble gratititude, right?).

Did you know that since 1950 America has consumed more than all people in the history of the world combined? What is happening to us? In a documentary called “Affluenza” aired on PBS consumerism is studied as a cultural disease that is breaking down our mental, spiritual, and emotional lives at a personal and societal level. Sadly, our illness has dramatically eaten away the natural resources of our planet and become a major cause and perpetuator of extreme poverty for the rest of our human family. It is a deadly addiction that is strangling us and destroying our world.

The documentary has recently been expanded in book form, Affluenza: The All Consuming Epidemic by Scott Simon. Here are some excerpts from an insightful book review by Badrinath Rao in “Frontline” an Indian magazine:

"Affluenza, according to the authors, is "a painful, contagious, socially transmitted condition of overload, debt, anxiety, and waste resulting from the dogged pursuit of more". This metaphor of a disease is an apposite characterisation of a malignant condition that is eating into the entrails of America. Americans' insatiable urge to acquire things, whether or not they are necessary, has indeed reached epidemic proportions. It has caused severe social and cultural dislocations and warped the basic values of American society.
Simple though this thesis might seem, it just cannot be overstated for three reasons. First, overspending and overconsumption engender a variety of problems such as social fragmentation, excessive ego-focality, "time famine" and chronic stress, factors that seriously imperil social harmony. Second, hyper consumption in America has deleterious consequences for the rest of the world. For instance, though Americans comprise just 4.7 per cent of the earth's population, they account for 25 per cent of its global warming and greenhouse gas emissions.
THE most corrosive impact of consumerism has been on human relationships. It flourishes by promoting a use-and-throw culture, a culture of planned obsolescence. The authors rightly posit that "attitudes formed in relation to products eventually get transferred to people as well". Just as things are discarded after use, people too are cast off if they lose the capacity to participate in the cycle of consumption. In a consumerist culture, therefore, one's master status is linked exclusively to one's ability to buy.
Another commonly observed aberration that crass consumerism creates is "chronic self-absorption". The unremitting craving for things leaves people with little time and patience to think about others. Hence most Americans are unmindful of the maladies of their society. For instance, how many of them know that "on any given night, at least 750,000 Americans are without shelter, and nearly two million experience homelessness during the course of the year"? Over three million children are abused every year. America has incarcerated over two million of its citizens, the largest number for any nation. "

So at this time of the year what are our alternatives?

Well, according to Adbusters Magazine...just say no! They encouraged a worldwide “No Buy Day” on November 25th, the biggest shopping day of the year, with critical mass events aimed at getting the "stop consuming" message out.

But really, if we must buy, is there such a thing as “ethical consuming”? I think so, and here are some ideas to get you thinking about ways you can buy differently this holiday season…

· Barter for goods and services. You’d be surprised at the number of people who are willing to trade for something you can do or make.

· Offer a skill or hand-made gift instead of store-bought presents to your friends and family this holiday season.

· Buy second-hand. There are plenty of treasures to be found at thrift stores, and your money will not support a corrupt garment industry but usually goes towards a charity instead.

· Buy local. Support small businesses and farms in your community rather than huge corporations that drain money from your community and often practice unethical employment and trade practices.

And my favorite…

· Buy Fair Trade! Increasingly available products labeled with a fair trade certification provide consumers an opportunity to use their purchasing power as a means for social justice. Fair trade products ensure marginalized producers in developing countries receive a fair “living” wage, work in safe conditions, and have equal employment opportunities. What’s more, fair trade products are kind to the earth: environmentally sustainable practices are required in the manufacturing of fair trade certified goods. Check out the following links for resources on where to buy fair trade products…

Global Exchange Fair Trade Store
Ten Thousand Villages
Fair Trade Federation
Equal Exchange
Fair Trade Resource Network
Transfair USA
Co-op America Green Pages

Questions...

2005-11-23T08:40:00.000-08:00

"I beg you...to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don't search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer..."

-Ranier Maria Rilke

A Motherhood Blessing

2005-11-14T22:44:00.000-08:00

I dreaded the idea of yet another boring baby shower, dragging on with endless gift opening, silly games, and a host of labor and delivery horror stories. I had been given the opportunity to create a celebration around the pregnancy of a dear friend, but instead of just focusing on the material needs of the baby to be, I wanted to honor the rite of passage my friend was about to enter into motherhood. It seems that often in our society this incredible moment in the life history of a woman is relegated to the ranks of unpleasant medical procedures. Other cultures seem better able to recognize the beauty and magnitude of this sacred journey and give place and time for reflecting and rejoicing in the traditions surrounding a new birth.

During my search for an “alternative shower” a friend introduced me to the idea of doing a blessing ritual. As I did some more research I found lots of information on the topic, a loose interpretation of a Native American tradition called “the blessing way”. One of the primary intentions of a ritual like this is to nurture and “fill up” the mother-to-be to help prepare her for all that will be required in her new role. There are many creative ways to accomplish this, here is what I chose to do…

A small group of Lesley’s intimate friends gathered in my candlelit home. Each brought with them a handful of flowers that we arranged on my coffee table like an altar, the centerpiece of our evening together. With incense burning and a CD of Native American women’s chants, called “Matriarch”, playing in the background, Lesley arrived and was ushered into her place of honor for the evening.

What followed was a “gift opening” of the most meaningful kind… poems, stories, prayers, songs, and a foot washing were given to Lesley as blessing offerings. We each presented a special bead that had significant meaning to us and strung them together as a labor bracelet for Lesley to wear as a symbolic reminder that she is continuously surrounded by our love and support.

As Lesley expressed some of her fears about birthing and becoming a mother, we each wrote down a single word of prayer regarding those concerns on a strip of ribbon. Grace, Endurance, Dignity, Harmony, Trust, Confidence…the pieces of ribbon were then tied around individual candles. At the end of the evening each of us took one of the candles home with us, promising to light it and remember her concern when we are notified that she is in labor. A large candle with pieces of each of the ribbons tied on it was also given to Lesley so that whenever she looks at it she will remember that we are lifting her up.

We then presented unique coupons we had each decorated expressing our ongoing commitment to Lesley after the birth by offering cooked meals, babysitting, and coffee dates. The evening culminated with the surprise arrival of a henna body artist. This ancient practice has been used in healing rituals and celebrations in many cultures for thousands of years. Beautiful designs were created uniquely for each of us including the masterpiece on Lesley’s belly. The lovely henna stains, which last 10-15 days, were to help us keep the spirit of this special ceremony close to our hearts as we went our separate ways.

Joining in a circle to close the evening, we gave thanks to Mother God for our feminine capacity to nurture and for Lesley’s sacred passage into motherhood. We honored the circular cycles of earth, life, womb, and friendship. We recognized our bonds as sisters and renewed our commitment to Lesley and one another.

As we parted there was a tangible sense that something profound had occurred between us. Somehow in the simple act of setting aside place and time to honor our journey together, we had suddenly stepped on holy ground. This is ground I want to come back to time and time again. So I continue to seek out creative ways to add ritual to my life. Just as my ancient ancestors, I am trying to punctuate my calendar with ceremony and celebration, memorializing both the milestones and the (seemingly) mundane. God can be found in these moments, I have experienced, if I will only pause and recognize her.

Learn more about how to do a "blessing way" here

Let us work together

2005-11-09T23:02:00.000-08:00

Lilla Watson, Aboriginal activist, reminds us, “If you have come to help me you are wasting your time. But if you have come because your liberation is tied up with mine, then let us work together.”

Homeless eyes

2005-11-09T22:27:00.000-08:00

I roll down my window and stuff a small wad of crumpled bills into his weathered hand. Then for an instant my eyes meet his…deep blue pools of regret and desire. The light turns green and I pull away. I feel my chest constrict imprisoning the sob that is trying to escape with my next breath. I’m not sure why I guard my tears so militantly. Maybe it’s because I’m afraid that once the weeping escapes, there will be no end to it. The truth is, an oceanic tide of grief engulfs me when I encounter eyes like his. I grieve for his condition…and for mine. I mourn because of the chasm that exists between us, which for one sacred moment disappears. And all at once I am his mother, his daughter, his sister.

GuluWalk

2005-11-07T22:20:00.000-08:00

On October 22nd, I walked a few miles through downtown Seattle on one of the last mild autumn Saturday evenings before the cold rains began. I joined with over 15,000 participants clad in official orange t-shirts in an event called GuluWalk occurring simultaneously in 37 other cities worldwide that day.

Gulu is a large city in northern Uganda where over 50,000 children flock every night, traveling as far as 20 km from surrounding villages, seeking asylum until morning light. They are desperately trying to escape roving militias that have already stolen over 30,000 of their siblings to use as child soldiers and sex slaves in the region’s brutal 20-year civil conflict. The situation has been dubbed “the world’s most neglected humanitarian crisis” and “one of the biggest scandals of our generation,” by U.N. Under-Secretary General of Humanitarian Affairs Jan Egeland. So as the tangerine river of Guluwalkers poured onto the city sidewalks of the world that night the purpose was simple: awareness, solidarity, action.

The worldwide GuluWalk movement was spurred by 2 Canadians determined to get the message to their community by attempting to come to grips themselves in a small, but significant way with the plight of these young “night commuters”. This past July Adrian Bradbury and Kieran Hayward walked 12.5 km every night into Toronto, Ontario to sleep on the steps of the city hall for four hours before walking home at sunrise in time for work the following day. They succeeded in gaining media attention and began organizing fundraising efforts, such as the walk, to benefit the organizations that are providing shelter, food, and healthcare to the Ugandan children.

I believe it is crucial to our own wholeness to connect emotionally, physically, spiritually, mentally, and financially with the things that are happening in our human family around the globe. For instance, why do we know the names of every US soldier that has been killed, but not one single name of a child that has been stolen, abused, and murdered in Uganda?

At one point during the GuluWalk another participant turned to me and asked if I could imagine how these children must feel as they journey in the darkness. But, quite honestly, as I walked those few short miles in my comfortable clothing and hiking boots, on a balmy evening, through a safe and pleasant cityscape—I simply did not have the capacity to imagine. Terror, loss, hunger, exhaustion…their tender, battered souls have known more suffering in a few short years than I may know in a lifetime. I wish I could somehow carry some of their burden, but for now I will carry their story to help us not forget them. And if you will carry their story too, then as an old Ugandan saying goes, “one by one makes a bundle”, our voices together will begin to move our own hearts and the world.

Please visit: http://www.guluwalk.com/ to learn more about how you can get involved.

True Compassion

2005-11-05T22:54:00.000-08:00

"A true revolution of values will soon cause us to question the fairness and justice of many of our past and present policies. On the one hand, we are called to play the Good Samaritan on life's roadside, but that will be only an initial act. One day we must come to see that the whole Jericho Road must be transformed so that men and women will not be constantly beaten and robbed as they make their journey on life's highway. True compassion is more than flinging a coin to a beggar. It comes to see that an edifice which produces beggars needs restructuring. A true revolution of values will soon look uneasily on the glaring contrast of poverty and wealth."

- Martin Luther King Jr., in his speech "Beyond Vietnam: A Time to Break the Silence"

Who's saving who?

2005-11-01T22:08:00.000-08:00

I grew up in an evangelical Christian church culture that taught me it was my duty to “bring people to the Lord.” This could be accomplished through a variety of inelegant means, including standing on street corners and handing out tracts featuring cartoon figures writhing in hell’s flames with the 5-step salvation plan on the back cover.

In better moments we served the poor in our community, but always with the caveat that our service needed to result in converts. It was their souls we were after, and if that meant filling their bellies first, that was merely a means to an end. I always felt uneasy about that even as an impressionable youth who had barely begun to form my own ideas about things. Now after years of deconstructing my childhood religion and coming to embrace my faith in a different paradigm, I am struck by the self-centeredness of those old attitudes.

As I see it now, being the very love and compassion of Christ by caring for the needy is an end in itself. Christ said we should love our neighbor. It’s that simple. He did not say, “feed your neighbor so you can get him to pray the sinner’s prayer.” And whoever made the assumption that we could “bring” anyone to Christ anyway? Seems a little self-glorifying to me.

In my experience with “Moveable Feast”, a grass-roots homeless feeding program I participate in with Queen Anne United Methodist Church in Seattle, it is quite the opposite. When I go to Pioneer Square to share some hot food with the homeless, it is in fact I who am being “brought to Christ.

For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes
and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you
came to visit me…I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of
these brothers of mine, you did for me. –Matthew 26

I participate in “Moveable Feast” because in the tired, bloodshot eyes and dirty, chapped hands I encounter, I am suddenly face to face and hand to hand with the very Christ. I am humbled by the great honor.

The gift of the poor

2005-10-31T23:00:00.000-08:00

“My heart is transformed by the smile of trust given by some people who are terribly fragile and weak. They call forth new energies from me. They seem to break down barriers and bring me a new freedom.
It is the same with the smile of a child: even the hardest heart can't resist. Contact with people who are weak and who are crying out...is one of the most important nourishments in our lives. When we let ourselves be really touched by the gift of their presence, they leave something precious in our hearts.
As long as we remain at the level of "doing" things for people, we tend to stay behind our barriers of superiority. We ought to welcome the gift of the poor with open hands. Jesus says, "What you do for the least of my brothers, you do for me."

-Jean Vanier

Remembering how to fly

2005-10-30T21:39:00.000-08:00

I just saw an incredible play called “Flight” by Charlayne Woodard at ACT Theatre in Seattle. Set on a plantation outside Savannah, Georgia in 1858, it is a poignant photograph of a deeply connected African American community dealing with the horrors of slavery through storytelling, song, and dance. Woodard explains, “My people used these tales to teach, to comfort those in mourning, to celebrate births and weddings, and to provide strength and hope in times of tragedy and loss. These tales were passed from generation to generation.”
The play culminates with a story about a group of slaves toiling under a brutal owner who are reminded by an old sage that their ancestors in Mother Africa were once able to fly. The story goes that as they began to believe in the sage’s wise tale their ancient power was restored and one by one they took flight, liberated from their oppressors.
It is an emotionally and spiritually compelling moment and I left the theater wishing I could be that sage…empowering people to remember their wings.

Mourning

2005-10-25T22:15:00.000-07:00

I was awoken as usual by the NPR morning news segment on my clock radio, but as I lie there with one foot still in my last dream, I became aware of a haunting voice describing a nightmare that had changed a woman’s life forever. It was a mother telling the story of the day she was informed that her son had been killed in Iraq. The screaming denial, warning the soldiers to stay away from her door. The heaviness that invaded her body so deeply she could not get off the floor. The searing pain that permanently disfigured her heart. Before my eyes were even open, tears seeped through my lashes and rolled onto my pillow.

Today the 2,000th U.S. soldier has lost their life in a war that I believe has broken our nation and our earth. No one even knows how many equally precious Iraqi lives have been taken.
The grieving stays with me throughout the day and into the evening when I join with other mourners in a candlelit vigil, a prayer for peace. Crawling back in bed that night, the tears still seep through my lashes and roll onto my pillow.

Hello world...

2005-10-02T22:44:00.000-07:00

Well, here I am with a blog site finally...guess I better think of something important to say.
It's a little presumptuous to think that anyone will have the time or desire to sort through my ramblings, but I'm going to give this a shot anyway. We'll see what happens...