Innocence & Forgiveness

We celebrate several sets of holidays around here ... the traditional American & Christian-based holidays, Jewish holidays and Chinese holidays. Every day is practically a holiday!

At Christmas-time, I talk to the children about Jesus and what I see as his essential message of Love & forgiveness. Alia (age 5) heard my little song and dance about Jesus over a light breakfast this year, and then said: "That's a good story."

There is a beautiful passage in A Course in Miracles that re-interprets the message of the crucifixion. Rather than being about the death of a son in "sacrifice" (how similar to ancient traditions of sacrificing animals, humans, etc. to God or various Gods) .... the message is rather about how one who, faced with the ultimate undeserved attack upon his body, his person, his name ... taught the message of forgiveness in the final moments before his, at least bodily, death.

How is it then, that we, when faced with slights and injuries of much less significant proportions, can so easily become enraged and vengeful? Toni Packer, in the somewhat obscure but revealing little book The Light of Discovery, describes many of our daily encounters as: "you say something that hurts the image I have of myself, and I say something back that hurts your image of yourself ..." (and she notes, "if that is all that is going on, nothing is learned.")

As a suburban Mom, I like to look at these grander themes through the lens of daily life. What does forgiveness mean with children, spouses, partners? Teachers? Relatives? Drivers on our commutes ... and other possibly troublesome folks?

How can we see the innocence in one another, "turn the other cheek" as it were? I am certainly no expert and could easily list a few people I have not quite, fully, er, forgiven. At the top of the list, probably, would be Me.

On Christmas Day, I happened to have scored with a nice gift for my husband, a set of very tall liquor glasses on thin stems--each a different shape and brilliant color. I had hoped ... and he actually liked them more than I expected he would. And then there was the moment when, in all of her excitement, our Alia reached quickly across the dining table to grab one of her presents and broke a glass--beyond repair.

My husband got angry. Why? He liked the present, actually, had already become somewhat attached. He interpreted Alia's actions as being linked to a kind of hyper-ness she sometimes gets into (a possible long term problem? ... worry, concern, are we parenting all wrong?) and spoke in stern tones to her about "moving too fast," and now look what happened, etc.

Alia burst into tears after a second or two of silent processing, and then went running to her room to ball herself up in blankets and be upset for a good while. Now it was my turn: I could get upset at my husband for over-reacting, for possibly marring our young child's Christmas Day, etc. etc. I had worked so hard to make a nice day for us all, and I saw the breaking of the glass as no big deal.

But by the Grace of God I saw instead my husband's innocence. I understood the reasons--rational or not--why he got upset (as listed above); and most importantly, I saw the seeds of all his reasons in myself. My heart went out to him (along with my daughter). I get attached to things too, I judge our daughter too, I worry about her future, too. How could I throw the first stone?

So, I let it rest. I helped Alia come back to our really quite lovely Day. My husband settled down and apologized to her. And I was relieved that I had not added more judgment and pain to the judgment and pain that had already occurred.

I say "by the Grace of God" because I am honestly not always so good at forgiveness.

I also realize that other sorts of slights are perhaps harder to forgive. Victims of physical attacks, of war and other sorts of violence ...

I am clear, however, that if we cannot learn to overcome these small, seemingly mundane incidents, the larger ones will go on and on in their endless and furious cycles.

The mysterious doors between life and death are opening around me now (in my circle of friends, in my family) ... Like the holidays, it's a time for reflection on what's important. And if Jesus was right, those things are Love & forgiveness. I think, in the end, they are really One.

As we are really One. Without Love & forgiveness our Oneness cannot be known and felt.

And our Oneness is ultimately that which is Eternal.

Do you have a story or thought on Love & forgiveness? If so, please share in "comments" ...

With Love,

Your Mystical Mama

My Work is Done?

The Parent's Tao Te Ching

Interpretation by William Martin ...

"Life can seem mundane
but it is not.
Children can seem ordinary,
and troublesome
and fragile
but they are not.

You may feel alone
and powerless
and separated

But you are not."


I rest my case.

It's Alright

It's alright to try
To try and try

As long as there is a space in your heart
of Not Trying

It's alright to have Passion,
To burn with Fire!

As long as there is a space in your heart
of Perfect Contentment

It's alright to be angry, outraged
Inflamed!

As long as there is a space in your heart
Of Tender Kindness

It's alright to make all sorts of plans,
to Dream and Envision

As long as there is a space in your heart
That lives only in
The Now

It's alright to go out on a limb
To grasp for something, just beyond reach ...

As long as there is a space in your heart
That is Welded to the Root

It's alright to be firm and direct

As long as there is a space in your heart
That is Full of Softness

It's alright

It is All alright

As long you open your heart
And take your perfectly Still Space
for a good walk around the block
Twice a day

... Understanding that
when time has played its last trick on you,
And everything you borrowed must be
Returned

The Space
The Space
The Stillness and
The Space

is all you keep.

At the End

As the dream dissolved,

My heart opened

and two birds flew

Into the blue

and endless sky ...


Freedom!

Lucky Girl

I am so lucky!

Born into small, trans-continental family
loving & dedicated mother,
spiritually-finding father,

(divorced, yes, it's OK)

To have been
Surrounded by Conscious people
To have known
Dear Mr. Sydney Banks
to have stumbled into arms of dedicated & loving husband
also spiritually-finding
who helps to guide me beyond ego
To have birthed two beautiful girls
Who fill the room with their whole-hearted Being

To live in an era of awakened Souls
Surrounded by wise and dedicated colleagues

To be healthy!
To live in California!
Trees on our street
turning toward their annual Splendor

To enjoy the blessings of
running water,
walking to school,
green parks,
central heat,
plenty to eat

But the miracle of all miracles
Is that there are times when I do not feel ...
& cannot remember

Gratitude

at all!

(Someone whack me with a Nerf bat, please!)

What can you feel grateful for?

Consider this poem your whack.

(& you're welcome.)

Angelic Visit

Our troupe (the Traveling Mills-Naim Circus) ended up, somewhat serendipitously, at Coit Tower in San Francisco yesterday. I say "serendipitously" because the way it goes in San Francisco now is that you basically end up visiting whatever area is around the parking spot that you find.

So we ended up on the shoulder of Telegraph Hill & trooped up, as Troupes (& Troops) do. The place was mobbed, which was surprising to me. I mean, Coit Tower is nice, but somewhat quaint as far as local attractions go ... & then I realized, (I had heard rumors of) that we were on one of the highest hills in San Francisco for Fleet Week. Huzzah!

So the kids and I (Barukh was on a phone call just down the hill) watched as three or four fighter planes zipped around the Bay, trailing pinkish, blue and white vapors and doing somersaults, complicated aerial formations and even making vapor shapes like a pink and blue heart with an arrow shot through.

This was followed by some rather large planes performing less complicated maneuvers and then there was a lengthy pause, as we all waited expectantly for the actual Blue Angels--slated to appear at 3.

Well, the Blue Angels came in with a bang, flying quite low and nearly taking out the tower. One came in so low that small children started to cry from the deafening roar, and as the plane pulled up, heading toward the stratosphere, I noticed a small bird struggling to stay aloft in its wake. The bird seemed to have lost all sense of direction, and fluttered about miserably, heading this way and then that, and I worried for its delicate internal mechanisms which seemed to have suffered a terrible shock.

The now famous parrots of Telegraph Hill also appeared disturbed by the commotion and the Tsunami-sized sound waves rolling over the Hill. They fluttered up and down in a flock, seemingly unsure where to be. (Please see "The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill," if you have not done so already.) All the birds in the City, I thought, needed tiny little bird ear plugs for this event. Then I spent some time wondering if birds do indeed have ears. (I'm sure they must, to hear each other singing!)

The Blue Angels performed a few tricks and within less than ten minutes it seemed, they were done. The crowd was crestfallen, but accepted their collective fate, and started trickling off down the Hill.

As our Troupe descended the formidable stairs winding down toward North Beach, I felt sure that the reason the Blue Angel show was truncated was because the Navy pilots and their on-the-ground handlers got word that the sensitive birds around Coit Tower were distressed by the displays, and so shut down the whole operation right away.

On a more serious note, my understanding of Fleet Week is that it is sort of a testosterone-driven display of U.S. military might and skill, etc. I mused that the vapor heart was interesting in the midst of all that. And is that a maneuver that Navy pilots might use in the skies of Afghanistan and elsewhere? Creating smoky hearts and peace signs? Hmmmm. Not an entirely bad idea, really, if you think about it. On the other hand, possibly a perfectly horrible idea at this juncture.

The fog was rolling in over the city with all its gray and gusty might, but seemed to leave a pocket of sunshine for us to grab some pretty authentic Italian white bean soup, pasta, and antipasto in the lively neighborhood around Columbus Ave. We then snaked our way over to Portrero Hill for a latte and hot chocolate at Farley's (no whipped cream at Farley's mind you. This place is not frivolous.) I used to hang out at Farley's when I lived on Portrero Hill, and was single and wild, (etc.) Now I was at table with husband and two small children who have become a part of me like new appendages. Amazing! From one to four. How did that happen?

The views of downtown are lovely and sparkly from the Hill. We made a mess at the corner bookstore and then cleaned it up, and our Troupe packed it all in to the very suburban Subaru, having had our fill of the "big, gigantic" City (Alia's description) and sped home to Palo Alto, tired and satisfied.

Pats & Hugs

If we could only treat each other,
us Grown Ups,
As we treat our own beloved, miraculous children

With Love & great affection
Pats & hugs
Heaps of praise

Understanding that we encourage the fragile seed
of Belief in Self and ...
Affirm their very Being

Remember? Remember?
You and I ran
naked through the house,
Screaming with joy
Madly in love
You did not even know I was a girl,
or I, that you were a boy

What happened to us,

my dear, dear Lost Love?

We began to collect ideas

& Now,

I don't like my idea of your idea

No more hugs & kisses for you!