"Closer to Fine:" Living in the Questions with the Indigo Girls

There's more than one answer to these questions

Pointing me in a crooked line

And the less I seek my source for some definitive

The closer I am to fine

- Indigo Girls

***

I lead a charmed life. This, I do believe.

Yesterday at this time, I was taking my seat in the Cities 97 Radio Station Studio C to hear a live recording of the Indigo Girls , as they prepare to release their latest CD, "Posieden and the Bitter Bug." For those of you who don't know these two rocking female singer/ songwriters, I encourage you to seek them out. For those who do, I imagine you'll understand my complete and utter joy at being invited to this event.

Goodness! What is it to be able to hear live music? What is to hear live music that you love? What is it to hear live music that has somehow changed your life? Transformed your perception, gave you pause and inspired you to consider something anew? Pierced your heart and made you feel less alone in the world? Yes! How often do we get to pay homage to the sources of inspiration in our life?

My longtime Phillipian friend and volunteer buddy, John Michaels, invited me to this event. Many of you may know John as the radio personality and traffic reporter at KTCZ Cities 97 (as well as several other stations). John rocks. He's funny. He has a great disposition. And John knows how to call out traffic conditions for the greater Twin Cities area, thereby increasing the capacity for people to move from one location to the next - with a little more ease, information, and peace of mind.

On this day, John Michaels helped me in my own sort of daily, blessed journey through relationship, work, service, as I navigated oodles of plaguing questions - all in graced time, with such powerful musical artists singing live before me, and the

loving, funny company beside me.

I'm trying to tell you something about my life

Maybe give me insight between black and white

And the best thing you've ever done for me

Is to help me take my life less seriously

Its only life after all

Yeah

I first heard the Indigo Girls with Jill Mayberger. Road tripping between Omaha and Denver to see my sister, Stephanie, in college, Jill introduced me to this raw acoustic female duo. When she put in the tape cassette of their 1989 self-titled release, "Indigo Girls," I think my life sort of changed. I know something in me shifted sideways at least. "Closer to Fine" played as the first song on the album, and I knew almost immediately that Emily and Amy were two women I had to be connected to, related to, on at least some level.

Well darkness has a hunger thats insatiable

And lightness has a call that's hard to hear

I wrap my fear around me like a blanket

I sailed my ship of safety till I sank it

I'm crawling on your shores

Who talks about the darkness? Who talks about light? How do we navigate the fear? How do we navigate any of this blasted life with all of its questions? What does it mean to wrap fear around you like a blanket? What does it mean to crawl on someone's shores? Whew. When I heard these lyrics of the Indigo Girls for the first time, I am certain I wept with their resonance. On Thursday, in Studio C, in the company of 40 other folks, I wept again.

I went to the doctor, I went to the mountains

I looked to the children, I drank from the fountains

Theres more than one answer to these questions

Pointing me in a crooked line

And the less I seek my source for some definitive

(the less I seek my source)

The closer I am to fine

The closer I am to fine

Before I left for Cities 97 on Thursday, I was having a lovely lunch at my church, St. Phillips, where I volunteer. Excited about going to see these women perform live, I was raving to Betty Lou and Carol and Dale and Fr. Jules about their music. How does one really explain the Indigo Girls? How does one connect their faith community with their social arts community?

And I went to see the doctor of philosophy

With a poster of rasputin and a beard down to his knee

He never did marry or see a b-grade movie

He graded my performance, he said he could see through me

I spent four years prostrate to the higher mind

Got my paper and I was free

I tried singing this song, "Closer to Fine." I tried to recall the lyrics and their potency and describe this magic of their vocal harmonies.

I tried to find properly labeled recordings of the Indigo Girls on my laptop in my itunes folder. I couldn't.

I went to the doctor, I went to the mountains

I looked to the children, I drank from the fountains

Theres more than one answer to these questions

Pointing me in a crooked line

The less I seek my source for some definitive

(the less I seek my source)

The closer I am to fine

The closer I am to fine

Instead, I found myself rambling about doctors and philosophers and priests and lesbians and gay people and nuns and what it means to ask so many questions and seek answers. I tried to draw a connection between Jesus and Justice and Emily and Amy and our Catholic faith community and myself. I sighed. I smiled. I tried to communicate in words what seems the ineffable.

I stopped by the bar at 3 a.m.

To seek solace in a bottle or possibly a friend

And I woke up with a headache like my head against a board

Twice as cloudy as I'd been the night before

And I went in seeking clarity.

I sent my church colleagues a link to this song, "Closer to Fine" and then I headed out to the studio. There, before the authors of this potent song; there, before the raw, real, resonant lyrics being performed by these two lovely women, I celebrated. I swirled in my life questions, in my uncertainty, in my inabilities to fully articulate things, and I sang along.

I went to the doctor, I went to the mountains

I looked to the children, I drank from the fountains

Yeah we go to the doctor, we go to the mountains

We look to the children, we drink from the fountains

Yeah we go to the bible, we go through the workout

We read up on revival and we stand up for the lookout

Theres more than one answer to these questions

Pointing me in a crooked line

The less I seek my source for some definitive

(the less I seek my source)

The closer I am to fine

The closer I am to fine

The closer I am to fine

I do feel closer to fine with such work and words and wonder in the world.

"Wild Geese": Mary Oliver's Lent?

Today marks the beginning of Lent* in the Catholic church. This period of forty days, evoking Christ's time in the desert, is one we are all invited into. As a Christian, I think of it as a period of intentional contemplation - in the name of recognizing our utter humanity, and utter connectedness. I think of the many lenses a Catholic, or someone in another faith tradition, might perceive this period, and it gives me pause.

What is a forty day period of reflection about?

What gifts might we glean?

How many faith traditions practice such reflective periods - that include fasting? What do I encounter in the desert of my soul?

What if I encounter rage? Or demons? Where is love within?

I wonder what this Jesus fellow experienced in His time? How are He and I related?

I wonder about Mary Oliver and her Lenten dance? Did she ever walk through a desert? What does she know about being "Good" or being labeled as "Bad"?

I wonder how her poem "Wild Geese" was born?

What does she know of repentance? Of love? I wonder how the natural world might have spoken to Christ during his lifetime?

Could this be similar to you and me?

I wonder a lot of things. I offer Ms. Oliver's poem as another way into this season of reflection, love, forgiveness, transformation. Amen.

Wild Geese

by Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees

for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body

love what it loves.

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.

Meanwhile the world goes on.

Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain

are moving across the landscapes,

over the prairies and the deep trees,

the mountains and the rivers.

Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,

are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,

the world offers itself to your imagination,

calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting —

over and over announcing your place

in the family of things.

from Dream Work by Mary Oliver

published by Atlantic Monthly Press

© Mary Oliver

*The Teutonic word Lent, which we employ to denote the forty days' fast preceding Easter, originally meant no more than the spring season.

More Franti and Spearhead: "Sometimes" - It's a Dance Party!

"I love Michael Franti. I'm going to have Sylvie start listening to him… what great music for a dance party!" - Emily Borgmann*

It's a dance party in my apartment right now. I am in love with this guy at this moment. Woohoo!

*giggle*giggle*shake*snap*step*giggle*

*These words from my sister in law inspired me to post another Franti/ Spearhead video to my blog. The song is called "Sometimes." (See if you can recognize the "Rollercoaster" sample.) I appreciate Mr. Franti dancing on stage, rocking it out, around minute 1:20. Yes!

I feel so lucky to get to see such performers live! Love! I know a number of you will rock it out at your offices, at your desks, in your homes now. Enjoy!

LOVE!

Michael Franti In Minneapolis: "Say Hey!" Happy Valentine's Day!

"Seems like every where I go, the more I see, the less I know."

I love this song. The simplicity. The sweetness. The story.

This evening I will have the pleasure of seeing Michael Franti perform this live with Spearhead at the Orpheum Theater in downtown Minneapolis. As a precursor to tonight's event, I share this You Tube music video of his latest song, "Say Hey (I love you.) " It says volumes to me about the sweet, simple, profound notion of love, and what our journeys really teach us.

Enjoy!

Melissa

Vusi Mahlasela at the Ordway: Another kind of Church

I had the amazing privilege and pleasure of seeing this rocking South African perform last night in St. Paul. Yeah to the Ordway for bringing Vusi Mahlasela here. All day, I was referring to the event, and trying to describe how powerful it was when people got up from their "pews" to dance in the aisles. Realizing we weren't in church, I thought my mistake was actually quite appropriate, as the concert felt like being at a rocking service.

An additional note: In the opening of this song, recorded in Johannesburg, South Africa, at the Live 8 concert, Vusi reminds me so much of former Teens Rock the Mic poets, spitting poetic narratives quickly into the mic...In this case, Mr. Mahlasela speaks as witness - or in testimony- to the crimes committed during Apartheid...However bleak it may seem, it's truly a song of hope and healing.

Enjoy!

Strange Fruit: A Reflection on Race, Culture, Faith, and Dialogue from the North Side

Southern trees bear strange fruit,

Blood on the leaves and blood at the root,

Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze,

Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees.
- Strange Fruit, Billie Holiday

It's Wednesday night. I am at the Church of St. Philips in North Minneapolis. Actress and singer Thomasina Taylor Petrus is performing in the Mixed Blood Theater production of the one-woman show, "Daughters of Africa." At the corner of 26th and Bryant, inside this Catholic church, I am a member of this diverse audience that includes neighborhood children and teens, parents and mentors all gathered with fellow church members and Patchwork Quilt volunteers from partnering parishes around the Twin Cities. Black, White. Brown, yellow. Old, young. All are welcome and assembled for this free community performance of a musical honoring the lives and legacies of African American women through the ages.

At this moment, I am struck by Ms. Petrus' performance of Billie Holiday. The actress embodies this vocal legend -- physically, emotionally --singing "Strange Fruit" from the stage space created in front of the church's alter. In the course of her song, hearing these harrowing and powerful lyrics, I take note of the setting. I stand in awe of this juxtaposition of a Holiday in our midst, offering such potent words, with Christ on the Cross behind her, hanging atop a multi-colored stone-constructed wall.

Pastoral scene of the gallant south,

The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth,

Scent of magnolias, sweet and fresh,

Then the sudden smell of burning flesh.

My breathe stops short for a second. I pause, and take it in. Blood on the leaves. Blood at the root. Bulging eyes, twisted mouth. Bodies swinging. The scent of magnolias, sweet and fresh.

A month ago, I sat in this same space, to witness the ecumenical memorial service for Annshalike Hamilton, a 15 year old young girl found frozen in a garage, two blocks away, having been beaten to death. She was 7 months pregnant. Every sunday, I attend mass in this same space, blending with a congregation of West Africans and Polish Immigrants, North Siders, Suburban members and other Urban dwellers. And I am moved by it all: the proximity of people and tales, language and culture, crucifixion and terror, faith and community, fear and love, creation and transcendence -- all in one space. All seem to converge and speak directly to my core as some kind of celebratory witness of our humanity.

Here is fruit for the crows to pluck,
For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck,
For the sun to rot, for the trees to drop,
Here is a strange and bitter crop.

By the time the performance ends, we have seen Harriet Tubman, Elisabeth Freeman, Madam C.J. Walker, Zora Neale Hurston, Lena Horne, Rosa Parks, Oprah Winfrey. All come to life. All these women tell their stories, sing and engage our crowd.

Afterwards, after the applause, after the question and answer period -- after the little kids marvel and move toward Thomasina, after the children crawl up to sit next to her, after I even add my comment about this moment that has stood out to me -- this is when I have the next conversation. The layered conversation, the race meets faith meets culture and language conversation.

Fr. Jules Omba Omalanga, my newly installed pastor from the Congo, is locking up the place. I say to this dear man, with brown skin and a warm, round face, "Hey! Good stuff, eh, Pere Jules?"

He is beaming, and notes, in his African-French-accented English: "Did you see all the little kids coming up to her? I love seeing children so engaged."

I smile. I nod. I say, "And, this took place in church, Father!? And there was not one overt mention of Jesus!?" He nods and turns his head to me. I continue, "It's powerful what the arts and opportunities like this do for engaging us all, eh?"

I want to squeeze him. I want to thank him for his role in having this kind of thing happen in our church. I want to talk about my own large catholic spirit layered notions of how faith intersects with story, and works to inspire us all. I hold back. I wonder if this appropriate? I wonder if my Congolese Catholic priest gleans the way words shared, performed, sung this evening, are not unlike the words we hear shared each Sunday morning at service? I consider the way I feel fed by this performance, in a similar way to how I feel fed each time I attend mass and receive the Eucharist. I wonder if I can even utter such things? I wonder how he perceives, what he gleans of this evening, what he gets from the history of African Americans? I wonder too, especially, what it's like when his own Congolese and French-speaking self has only been here a few short years? I wonder if he understands me? Ultimately, I wonder if I understand him?

"Fr. Jules, did you get the "Strange Fruit" reference I mentioned?"

He shakes his head, "no" and continues locking up. Fumbling with keys, he says, "What is this 'strange fruit'?"

I try to explain, "It's an allusion to the lynching of an African American in a song by Billie Holiday."

"What is this word, "lynching?" he asks, still turning locks, still looking puzzled.

I pause, put my hand on his arm, "Father, imagine Jesus is black, and instead of a cross, he's hanging from a rope in a tree. That is 'lynching.'"

Then he nods, stopping, looking straight at me, and says, "Yes. I know many stories like this. It reminds me of stories from home. Stories from places the Congo and other African countries... like in Darfur. I know what this is."

Whew. And there's another conversation, right? Another 15 conversations! Here I am thinking all about catholicism and race and culture and history as it mixes itself up on the North side. Here I am trying to sort if this fellow and I have much in common and how we might ever really communicate, understand one another, be on the same page. And here, in this honest exchange, in this slowing down and stopping sort-of-exchange, my priest and friend takes me right out into the larger world. Into his home country, and into his experiences -- into spaces that I have no first hand knowledge of, but desire to understand deeply. He also takes me right into his own heart. I feel like I am present, lucky, so privileged to be standing here and part of something that feels so much larger.

And it makes me ask:

How many layers of communication must we peel back until we are all on the same page -- until we are all speaking about the same thing, using a common language, or common frame of reference? How many doors, hallways, buildings, alleys, (continents) do we travel over and through, until we find ourselves euphemistically, literally, in same room? What does it take to get there? How many keys do we need? How many doors do we lock and unlock? How many plays and masses and funerals do we attend? How many conversations do we have? Who wants to go through all the work? Who wants the hastle, the mess, the emotion? Who wants to hold feelings of perhaps being lost or confused? Who wants to acknowledge the work, and what exists in this room, on this page, when we arrive? And why would any of us want to go there?

These are questions I'm passionate about. These are questions that plague me. These are questions that seem to be at the heart of all my work and experiences of late. Whew. So I put them out here, in light of this recent encounter, and I invite you to hold this with me.

I invite you into the strange fruit experiences, conversations and contemplations of your own.

LOVE!

Melissa

Something From Richard Rohr - Toward Wisdom

I love this reflection from Franciscan priest, Richard Rohr. It's a bit on reflection, contemplation, living in the present moment, moving beyond duality and toward wisdom....I think President Barack Obama knows about this "Third Way" that Rohr refers to here....

Smiles, Love,
Happy Contemplating!
Melissa

***

The contemplative mind does not need to prove anything or disprove anything. It's just what the Benedictines called a Lectio Divina reading of the Scripture that looks for wisdom that says, "What does this text ask of me to change about me?"

The contemplative mind lets the terrifying wonderful moment be what it is and primarily ask something of me, not always using it to convert the nations.

The contemplative mind is willing to hear from a beginner's mind, yet also learn from the Tradition. It has the humility to receive both/and thinking and not all or nothing thinking. Now we call this non-dual thinking. It leads to what we call the Third Way, neither fight nor flight, but standing in between where I can hold what I do know together with what I don't know. And let that wonderful mix lead me to wisdom instead of this quick knowledge which largely just creates opinionated people and not wise people.

Fr. Richard Rohr, OFM, in the CAC webcast, Nov. 8, 2008:
What is The Emerging Church?

Your Responses to President Obama's Speech

The following are a collection of your responses to President Obama's Inaugural Address, that I have had the privilege of receiving in my email inbox. I stand in awe. Humbled. In love. Moved. Inspired. Hopeful. Grateful. Yes. For what unifies us, gives us hope, and invites us to continually be about the change that we so desire on this planet. I point you especially to the words of Nomi Nkomo, who, along with Colette Deharpporte, inspired me to initially publish the blog posting on Obama's speech. Nomi writes to further clarify why President Obama's line about creation vs. destruction was so powerful to her. I find her writing as a South African friend, alongside all of yours, insightful and wise, and giving voice to that which doesn't often get named, seen, acknowledged.

For it all, I say, "Amen!"

Happy Contemplating!
Melissa

***

Nomi Nkomo said...

"Know that your people will judge you on what you can build, not what you destroy." - President Obama

I can't even call it a 'favourite line'. It was profound. It was a truth. We don't speak those. They mean nothing to us. We feel them but we don't speak them because speaking them would give life to them. If it's alive, we have to acknowledge its existence.

What it meant to me was so much more than a message to the Iraqi leaders. He was saying 'forgive'. Forgiveness frees you to move forward and build. Holding on to anything is a hindrance and you focus on what is/went wrong instead of celebrating the lessons and focusing on what is important - you, your well-being, the people that matter to you, your future, your family, your truths, your reality.

"[Your] people will judge you on what you can build, not what you destroy" - What matters in life is your successes, not your failures. I need to remember that it's my successes that matter, not my failures. I... need to remember that people will judge me on what I can build, not what I destroy.

When he said it there was a stunned silence. Honestly, it was the most powerful thing he said. Live up to that and tell me it wasn't... you know?

Nomi
***

Andrea said...

Amen, amen and amen, sister!

xo
Andrea

***
Jane K said...

Dear Melissa,

These grabbed me:
On this day, we gather because we have chosen hope over fear, unity of purpose over conflict and discord. The nation cannot prosper long when it favors only the prosperous.

The success of our economy has always depended not just on the size of our gross domestic product, but on the reach of our prosperity; on the ability to extend opportunity to every willing heart -- not out of charity, but because it is the surest route to our common good.

To those who cling to power through corruption and deceit and the silencing of dissent, know that you are on the wrong side of history, but that we will extend a hand if you are willing to unclench your fist.

words of hope,
peace
Jane

***

Sarah G. said...

Yee-haw!

***
tmr said...

thank you so much...i so appreciate your sharing this link and your sentiment ~ you're the best!

peace be...

t.
***

Sondra Samuels said...

I love it!!
SS

Sondra Samuels,
President
PEACE Foundation
1119 W. Broadway Ave.
Minneapolis, MN
***

Colleen said...

My favorite line is actually from his acceptance speech at the DNC
"Let us lead by the force of example, not an example of force."

***

Kate Johnson said...

Amen, Sister!

***

Cece Ryan said...

AMEN!!!!!!!! We got to watch it here at work on the big screen in our conference center. My Favorite is also “for we know that our patchwork……… and I do hope that we can finally put aside childish things, like party lines to accomplish the things that will serve all people!

***

Anonymous said...

My Dearest Queen Mab,

You have my AMEN. When the pastor started reciting the "Our Father" moments before the swearing in...I found myself joining in prayer outloud...in unison...in hope...in faith...in love.
Lovingly,
A.

***

Jody said...

Okay, in addition to what you have written (apologies if I repeat anything you already had I'm trying not to) here are some phrases that stuck out to me.

-On this day, we gather because we have chosen hope over fear, unity of purpose over conflict and discord.

-In reaffirming the greatness of our nation, we understand that greatness is never given, it must be earned.

-What the cynics fail to understand is that the ground has shifted beneath them - that the stale political arguments that have consumed us for so long no longer apply. The question we ask today is not whether our government is too big or too small, but whether it works - whether it helps families find jobs decent wage, care they can afford, a retirement that is dignified.

-To the people of poor nations, we pledge to work alongside you to make your farms flourish and let clean waters flow; to nourish starved bodies and feed hungry minds.

-For as much as government can do and must do, it is ultimately the faith and determination of the American people upon which this nation relies.

-But those values upon which our success depends - hard work and honesty, courage and fair play, tolerance and curiosity, loyalty and patriotism...

-This is the source of our confidence - the knowledge that God calls on us to shape an uncertain destiny.

And of course all that you shared before which were the things at the top of my list before the ones I listed above.

***

Tanya said...

Amen my friend!! AMEN!!!

***

Julia said...

AMEN!

***

Sr. Rafael Tilton said...

AMEN AMEN!!
Sr. Rafael

***
Julie Landsman said...

I loved the poem by Alexander too...

***

Philip said...

We'll I hate to rub it in, but I just had to say, "Yes, I caught it live!" I was one of the many who attended it….it was simply an electric atmosphere.

***
Brendan and Marie said...

How marvelous to get a glimpse into the world's reaction to our miracle! Thanks for sharing this with us.

Prayers for our new President, his Cabinet and our government--they will need them every day as they face the task of rebuilding our country.

Regards, Marie and Brendan

***
Ann Dillard said...

Amen!

The Inauguration of President Barack Obama: Honoring His Words

Friends Far and Wide,

As a way to simply honor this historic moment in our Nation's history, in our World's history, I point to lines from President Obama's speech that struck a chord with me. I watched this at home on my television in St. Paul, Minnesota, taking notes and tuning in and out through tears and awe, joy, wonder. I turned to friends on Facebook, as my computer alerted me to messages coming through, simultaneously in response to President Obama's Inaugural address.

When Nomi Nkomo in Johannesburg, South Africa, and Colette Deharpporte in Northeast Minneapolis, posted the exact same excerpt from President Obama's speech as their "status update," I knew I needed to comment as well.

"Know that your people will judge you on what you can build, not what you destroy." - President Obama

Amen.

I honor the fullness of this moment, by simply echoing back words, phrases, lines, from this new leader's speech, that speak to my heart, mind, spirit and inspire me to lean into our future with hope.

"In the words of Scripture, 'the time has come to set aside childish things...'

America is a friend of each nation. We are ready to lead once more...

For we know that our patchwork heritage is a strength, not a weakness. We are a nation of Christians and Muslims, Jews and Hindus - and non-believers. We are shaped by every language and culture, drawn from every end of this Earth; and because we have tasted the bitter swill of civil war and segregation, and emerged from that dark chapter stronger and more united, we cannot help but believe that the old hatreds shall someday pass; that the lines of tribe shall soon dissolve; that as the world grows smaller, our common humanity shall reveal itself; and that America must play its role in ushering in a new era of peace....

Know that your people will judge you on what you can build, not what you destroy..." -President Barack Obama

Again, can I get an "Amen"?

Here's a link to the entire text of his speech. I'd love to hear your favorite lines.

Happy contemplating!

In Peace, Love, Leadership,

Melissa

Being Free and Mature in Love: A Prayerful Reflection on MLK, Jr. Day

Does this speak to you?

My friend Jody has the following passage from Fr. Richard Rohr, OFM, copied onto the cover of her journal:

"If your prayer is not enticing you outside your comfort zones, if your Christ is not an occasional 'threat,' you probably need to do some growing up and learning to love. You have to develop an ego before you can let go of it." -Fr. Richard Rohr in "Everything Belongs"

These words caught my attention this afternoon during our time together on this Martin Luther King, Jr. Holiday. With this passage next to Fr. Henri Nouwen's meditation for the day,* copied below, I have this inclination to type and sing boldly:

Love! Dancing! Space! Growing up in Love! Freedom! Yes! Woohoo!

Both priests call us toward a maturity, a letting go, a love that transcends so much of what our frail, human egos and beings naturally cling to. And this says volumes to my heart today about what true emancipation can be, and IS, when we get out of the way. The juxtaposition of prayerful words, along with the legacy and dream of Dr. King, hold some powerful implications, then, and lead me to ask:

What does it take to be free? To heal? To lead a nation? To have people and unity in our homes, and throughout the world?

Creating Space to Dance Together

When we feel lonely we keep looking for a person or persons who can take our loneliness away. Our lonely hearts cry out, "Please hold me, touch me, speak to me, pay attention to me." But soon we discover that the person we expect to take our loneliness away cannot give us what we ask for. Often that person feels oppressed by our demands and runs away, leaving us in despair. As long as we approach another person from our loneliness, no mature human relationship can develop. Clinging to one another in loneliness is suffocating and eventually becomes destructive. For love to be possible we need the courage to create space between us and to trust that this space allows us to dance together. - Fr. Henri Nouwen

Happy Contemplating!

Peace,

Melissa

The Audacity of Hope: Today's Prayer, Pre-Inauguration Day

Living with Hope

Optimism and hope are radically different attitudes. Optimism is the expectation that things-the weather, human relationships, the economy, the political situation, and so on-will get better. Hope is the trust that God will fulfill God's promises to us in a way that leads us to true freedom. The optimist speaks about concrete changes in the future. The person of hope lives in the moment with the knowledge and trust that all of life is in good hands.

All the great spiritual leaders in history were people of hope. Abraham, Moses, Ruth, Mary, Jesus, Rumi, Gandhi, and Dorothy Day all lived with a promise in their hearts that guided them toward the future without the need to know exactly what it would look like. Let's live with hope. - Fr. Henri Nouwen

I am inspired today by these prayerful words from Fr. Henri Nouwen. They take me to the notion of "hope" that Barack Obama has written and spoken about, and exemplifies in his leadership. It's all such an audacious thing, indeed! What a season and time we are all living in, eh? There's so much we are celebrating in Obama's upcoming Inauguration, following Monday's US Holiday honoring Dr. Martin Luther King's legacy and life.....These are two beautiful leaders of hope, who are fueled by our collective witness to this notion! Do you agree? I'm equally appreciative of Fr. Henri Nouwen's listing of other hopeful leaders.

I wonder, "Where do you consider yourself in this line up? What do you live with? How does faith inform your navigation and leaning into the present moment? Where is your hope as is relates to your future?"

Happy Contemplating!

In peace, prayers, love, hope,

Melissa

International Communication...

Video Skype anyone? Goodness!

I'm sitting at the Fireroast Mountain Cafe in South Minneapolis, and for the past hour have been mesmerized by a young blond who is wearing a headset and has a small video camera mounted to her computer. She has been speaking softly in another language, and conversing clearly with a person via her laptop and this internet connection. She laughs. Smiles. Nods. And I hear this foreign language spoken that takes me to scenes abroad. To life abroad. I imagine different warmer settings and time zones and something outside the frosty morning here in South Minneapolis. I am happy next to this woman.

She packs up her computer and equipment, and I learn she was talking with her sister and parents in Germany. (I have to inquire, right?) She is an education student doing an internship here in a German Immersion school, and has been studying and working in St. Paul for the past four and a half months. She has four weeks to go. She shares that this technology has been a saving grace. "It's just like they are next door, and I can reach out and see them and hear their voice, and it makes me so happy, less homesick."

I have at some point in the recent past been conversing with many of you about what it is to dialogue across nations, lines, borders, races, classes, boundaries....and how we develop and maintain relationships while living, traveling, studying abroad. I'm especially interested in how we raise families and children in the larger world. Seeing this technology at work inspires me as I lean into my future and imagine the possibilities of life and love....Here. And Abroad.

Yes!

Happy Contemplating and Communications!
Melissa

Exploring "Church": Art and Its Power to Transform Lives

"Church" Written and Directed by Young Jean Lee, caught my attention this morning on the Walker Arts Center Calendar of Upcoming Events.

The pre-performance tour opportunity entitled "Art and Its Power to Transform Lives: Exploring Church - Beyond the Gallery: A Multidisciplinary Approach to Tours" is what took me to the home page and this new work by Young Jean Lee's Theater Company.

Here's some text from that site.....

"Her slyly subversive drama ambushes its audience with an earnest and surprisingly moving Christian church service that might be the most unlikely provocation produced in years." —New York Times

Playwright /director Young Jean Lee, whose Songs of the Dragons Flying to Heaven was the sold-out hit of Out There 19, returns with her most stirring and potentially disturbing work. Even as Church's charismatic and left-leaning central preacher defies traditionally held Christian assumptions, he conveys a passionate message about religion having the power to transform lives, backed up by three female ministers. . . .

Let me know if you are interested in seeing this!

Peace, Love,

Melissa

40th Birthday Tribute (Pre-Africa Departure)

The following birthday song was written and performed by David Mann, and recorded and posted to You Tube by my dear friend Brian Mogren on the occasion of my 40th Birthday. I share as a glorious way to close out my 2008, and say, "Thank you" to all of you. LOVE! -Melissa



David Mann and friends celebrate Melissa Borgmann on the occasion of her 40th birthday and departure for six weeks of travel through Africa.

"North of Uganda and God" - Compassionate Inquiry as Response

The following arrived in my inbox as a response to Monday's blog post about the recent massacre in the Congo. I found it particularly powerful in the complex and compassionate questions that my friend is posing. He writes from his perspective as a Ugandan residing in Minnesota. I share anonymously with his permission, and with much gratitude for such correspondence. You will see my response below.

***

Melissa, is this why some people choose to stay within their areas of comfort, environments they understand, situations they can interpret? Sometimes our quest to expand our horizons can be a nightmare in itself! Sometimes its better to stay within the confines that make sense. I have reached a point in my life where I do not fault those who are not traveled (not even beyond their state of origin). Sometimes one is better off knowing so little but, at the minimum, in position to make sense of the little. More knowledge, of and about our world can be overwhelming. It can be confusing. It can be hard to reconcile human nature and humanity.

Obviously, as you state in your writing, you are conflicted by what you read and what you experienced in your travels. How do you reconcile that? The terrible truth is that you reconcile by digging deeper into the details, into the history, into the propaganda and guess what....... sounds like even more confusion as you uncover the background noise.

For example, the bitter truth about the LRA atrocities over the last 16 years is that more than half have been committed by the Ugandan army. Remember all this has happened in the North of Uganda and God..... does the government have such spicy hatred for the people of the North........ Wanna know why?..... read some more*...... Its terrible........!! Those people have suffered at the hands of our government!

In Uganda not many people would pay attention to a 'Church Burning' story by the LRA. Suprise!!! ....... Well yeah.. Because no one believes that it either happened or it was at the hands of the LRA.

Enough for now..... Its a terrible world.

Its a beautiful day out here, in MN...., in the US of A.

Too bad for the Iraqis or Palestinians who can't say the same......

Well, if you have a headache blame it on the winter!

***

*For more information on the Lord's Resistance Army, here's a link to the International Criminal Courts Investigations. This is provided by the Global Policy Forum, which monitors Policy -Making at the United Nations.
-Melissa

Questions on the Congo, LRA, Uganda - from Omaha, Nebraska

What is the Lord's Resistance Army?
How much do I want to really want to know about warring factions in Africa?
What is the relationship between colonization in the Congo (and Uganda and the Sudan and....) and anyone called "Lord"?
Who is Joseph Kony and what might my Congolese priest, Fr. Jules, have to say about him? How am I connected to any of these details about a place so far away, when I'm so happily present with family in Omaha, Nebraska?
Why ask questions?

These are some of my queries this Monday afternoon, in no particular order, as I peruse today's headlines and wonder aloud about this recent atrocity in the Democratic Republic of Congo.

What is going on?

I arrived home a week ago today from my six week sojourn through six countries in Africa, and still my mind and heart and spirit persist in staying connected to this other continent.

I am in Omaha. It's after Christmas. I'm visiting family. I am tending to my nearly three year old niece Izzy today, and taking in this news from the BBC that sort of staggers me.

"Women and children cut in pieces,
45 civilians in a Catholic church hacked to death
Uganda's army has accused the Lord's Resistance Army
LRA leader Joseph Kony again refused to sign a peace deal.
He lives in a jungle hide out in the DR Congo.
The South Sudanese government hosts peace negotiations."

And I wonder. I sit in Omaha, and marvel at it all: What I don't know. What I do. What I have experienced, what I am currently experiencing.

Seventeen days ago I sat in the Kampala Club across from Ishaka Mawanda, who slipped me a note saying that the second in command of the Ugandan Army was seated two feet to my right. Now I'm reading about members of this General's military operation who are working to restore some kind of peace and order to a place where children are being killed, and it gives me pause. I tend to a child, who is breath-taking, beautiful in her innocence, and I believe she cannot be much different from the babies who are caught in the middle of this mayhem in Central and Eastern Africa.

What is going on?

Izzy is coloring. Her father is in the next room with a small team of contractors, working to remodel the living and dining area of their humble Omaha abode, and I'm in awe at the juxtaposition of war of development, family and faith, questions, curiosity, seeming contentment.

What is going on?

What do any of us really know about what goes on in the world? What makes us care?

I sit, wonder, and something in me is deeply stirred. I am not angry, but am moved toward a kind of outrage at what I know of the beauty of Africa, and what gets reported. I am moved toward a kind of outrage over the complexity that exists in trying to hold circumstances outside me with the immediacy of what my heart knows in loving family here, and a larger family abroad. I am not biologically related to anyone in Africa, but my body, heart, spirit knows a connectedness that transcends blood. And it all begs attention and inspires questions.

What is going on?

In peace, discomfort, contemplation,
Melissa

On Amminadab and Nahshon: Christmas Eve Contemplations

Today is Christmas Eve. Christians around the world are preparing to celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ. Whether you believe in this guy's miracle conception or not, His presence as a good, good man is pretty easy to acknowledge. Whether you hold that He was a literal Son of God, it's hard to doubt His power as a revolutionary fellow who sought to bring light and love and justice to the world, right? The guy worked really hard to challenge people in power and transform the way we conceive of glory, goodness, success, wealth. He met people in their poverty, in their brokenness, in spaces where they felt most crippled and unworthy to be, and He loved them. In doing so, He allowed the most horrible, wretched, weak among us, to know love -- to feel worthy, in a space of seeming unworthiness. He invited us all to consider our own broken and simultaneous beloved nature. Who wants to argue or disagree with this? Don't we all want to be loved at some point in time? Don't we all want to be accepted as the crazy, mixed-up, beautiful lot that we are? I will speak for myself -- I do!

But I don't know. I just think the guy has a good story and I'm a sucker for a miracle any day of the week, especially ones where angels and lovers come together. Jesus, Mary, Joseph: they rock in my book. The Angel Gabriel - he rocks. Elizabeth and Zachariah, their baby, John: all rock. Each of their stories is layered with these amazing elements that challenge all notions of reason, and invite us into mystery. A barren woman conceives. A virgin lady finds herself with child. Baffled men have dreams that change the course of their lives. (Joseph didn't have to stay with Mary, right? Zachariah didn't have to speak John's name and support this cousin-to-Christ coming, did he?) I love these stories, people!

What I'm meditating on today, though, aren't these familiar figures central to the Christmas story. What I'm holding this morning in my prayer and contemplation, are a couple folks I've never spent any time on: Amminadab and Nahshon.*

Now who knows Amminadab and Nahshon? Seriously! Who has ever heard of these people? I'm waking to read my scripture for the day, and I'm pouring over the first chapter of Matthew's Gospel, and I come across this litany of names, that details the genealogy of Jesus, and I'm struck by "Amminadab" and "Nahshon." I mean, there's a whole host of names I barely recognize, but these two stand out to me.

"Meet my great uncle 'Amminadab.'" Or "Mom and dad, I'd like you to meet my boyfriend, Nahshon." These are the sentences that come into my imagination and make me giggle. Who has a great uncle Amminadab? Who has ever dated a Nahshon?! Maybe it's because I just spent the past week in Ghana with a gorgeous fellow named "Saddam" who turned out to love Jesus and woke me up each morning with cheesy contemporary Christian tunes. Maybe these names attach themselves somehow to this recent perplexing or surprising experience of love, and it just makes me happy. Or, maybe it's because I just like the notion of Jesus descending from some regular blokes with names that make me laugh. Or perhaps it's that I often wonder what my greater purpose is on this planet, and maybe just maybe, I could be Amminadab -- or in fact, might marry Nahshon, and give birth to a really amazing baby that goes on to inspire people for centuries....

Who knows?!

I just go this direction in my musings this Christmas Eve morning, and it makes me happy.

Who are you in this Christmas story? Who are these figures in your imagination? What names strike you? What does any of this old and familiar, or new and funny narrative inspire in your heart and mind?

Happy Contemplating! Merry Christmas! Blessed Hannukkah! Big Love this Season to All -- no matter what you believe!

Melissa

*Gospel

Mt 1:1-25

The book of the genealogy of Jesus Christ,

the son of David, the son of Abraham.

Abraham became the father of Isaac,

Isaac the father of Jacob,

Jacob the father of Judah and his brothers.

Judah became the father of Perez and Zerah,

whose mother was Tamar.

Perez became the father of Hezron,

Hezron the father of Ram,

Ram the father of Amminadab.

Amminadab became the father of Nahshon,

Nahshon the father of Salmon,

Salmon the father of Boaz,

whose mother was Rahab.

Boaz became the father of Obed,

whose mother was Ruth.

Obed became the father of Jesse,

Jesse the father of David the king.

David became the father of Solomon,

whose mother had been the wife of Uriah.

Solomon became the father of Rehoboam,

Rehoboam the father of Abijah,

Abijah the father of Asaph.

Asaph became the father of Jehoshaphat,

Jehoshaphat the father of Joram,

Joram the father of Uzziah.

Uzziah became the father of Jotham,

Jotham the father of Ahaz,

Ahaz the father of Hezekiah.

Hezekiah became the father of Manasseh,

Manasseh the father of Amos,

Amos the father of Josiah.

Josiah became the father of Jechoniah and his brothers

at the time of the Babylonian exile.

After the Babylonian exile,

Jechoniah became the father of Shealtiel,

Shealtiel the father of Zerubbabel,

Zerubbabel the father of Abiud.

Abiud became the father of Eliakim,

Eliakim the father of Azor,

Azor the father of Zadok.

Zadok became the father of Achim,

Achim the father of Eliud,

Eliud the father of Eleazar.

Eleazar became the father of Matthan,

Matthan the father of Jacob,

Jacob the father of Joseph, the husband of Mary.

Of her was born Jesus who is called the Christ.

Thus the total number of generations

from Abraham to David

is fourteen generations;

from David to the Babylonian exile,

fourteen generations;

from the Babylonian exile to the Christ,

fourteen generations.

Now this is how the birth of Jesus Christ came about.

When his mother Mary was betrothed to Joseph,

but before they lived together,

she was found with child through the Holy Spirit.

Joseph her husband, since he was a righteous man,

yet unwilling to expose her to shame,

decided to divorce her quietly.

Such was his intention when, behold,

the angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said,

"Joseph, son of David,

do not be afraid to take Mary your wife into your home.

For it is through the Holy Spirit

that this child has been conceived in her.

She will bear a son and you are to name him Jesus,

because he will save his people from their sins."

All this took place to fulfill

what the Lord had said through the prophet:

Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son,

and they shall name him Emmanuel,

which means "God is with us."

When Joseph awoke,

he did as the angel of the Lord had commanded him

and took his wife into his home.

He had no relations with her until she bore a son,

and he named him Jesus.

A "Welcome Home from Africa" - Rising Poem....

"There is no disorientation quite like sleep depravataion combined with the jet lag." -Colette DeHarpporte

***

I am home from Africa, having arrived yesterday around noon, from the glorious Accra, Ghana. My heart does a funny leap writing this line, now at 3:47am in my St. Paul, Minnesota apartment, where a Winter draft greets my still-in-Africa-skin, and my body struggles to re-acclimate to the cold, this time zone. Yes.

Today's Writer's Almanac Poem*, by Robert Bly, arrives in my in box, next to my friend Colette's email, like sweet, warm, sort of "Welcome home!" words.

Disoriented, rising at this hour of dark, when my head expects light, I recognize Bly's words alive and at work inside my being: "Navies are setting forth in my veins." Yes. Little ships are moving, porting packages from my heart toward other destinations in the body. African gifts of story, memory, warmth, are being toted through my blood stream as I wake and wonder where I am, and what this air is that moves from outside, through the cracks in my windows, over my exposed South-African-Zanzibarian-Kenyan-Ugandan-Ghanaian-sun-tanned limbs....

I am happy thinking of the Indian Ocean. I am ecstatic seeing Saddam Dzikunun-Bansah's face in my mind's eye, or hearing Dumisani Ntombelas's voice the other side of a line, sending me off with South African parting words. I giggle thinking of Nomi Nkomo's sweet, silly text messages standing in line at customs. I marvel at the Dorothy Amenuke-Art-house-Arthaus dreams still alive and being constructed in real life time in Kumasi -- as well as in my own imagination. I wonder about Ishaka Mawanda and Emily Morris and if they are carrying Africa with them in their now on-safari-in-Minnesota-blood streams...? (Surely, they must understand this poem and the way waking so early in the cold affects the heart, mind, spirit.) I hold the questions of Patrick Kilonzo and Kenyan-Paper-making-collaborations in my rising body -- along with a happy desire to return to the Eastern Cape and squeeze a beloved Auntie Mo Dabula by her 70th birthday....

I read "Welcome Home" emails from State Side family and friends with requests for my American address and imagine the Holiday greeting cards that will arrive at 2338 Marshall Avenue in St. Paul. (Where will these cards arrive next year, or years to come? What is my address? Where do I live?) Hmmmmm......Where does any of us really reside?

A woman named Nozi, who is not my South African Community Development friend from Nquthu, drops me a line wondering how she got onto my Africa-emails-list-serve. I wonder this, too. My head filled with poems and dizzy dawn dreams and so much desire to locate my body in a proper time, place, aligning all of me with what my heart knows. Where does Ms. Motloung live? What is her email address? Where am I? Where are you?

Happy Morning. Happy Rising and Return Journeys to all who read this.

Yes!

Love,

Melissa

*Waking from Sleep

by Robert Bly

Inside the veins there are navies setting forth,

Tiny explosions at the waterlines,

And seagulls weaving in the wind of the salty blood.

It is the morning. The country has slept the whole winter.

Window seats were covered with fur skins, the yard was full

Of stiff dogs, and hands that clumsily held heavy books.

Now we wake, and rise from bed, and eat breakfast!

Shouts rise from the harbor of the blood,

Mist, and masts rising, the knock of wooden tackle in the sunlight.

Now we sing, and do tiny dances on the kitchen floor.

Our whole body is like a harbor at dawn;

We know that our master has left us for the day.

"Waking from Sleep" by Robert Bly, from Silence in the Snowy Fields. © Wesleyan University Press, 1962. Reprinted with permission. (buy now)

"What Do You Love Most in the World?" A Question from Kajire Village, Kenya

"What do you love the most in the world?"

Kizaka Mwacharo whispers this question to me as we sit in a lantern lit room in the village of Kajire, Kenya. He is 19. His eyes are wide. He does not smile, but poses the question with what seems all the courage and hope and desire and curiosity that a young man can muster. It's almost like I can taste these things in the oxygen he's exhaled speaking the words.

"What do you love most in the world?"

We are five in the room. Kizaka, his 20 and 19 year old cousins Nathanial and Paul, his 17 year old brother Lucas. We are gathered in this living area of their sister Ruth's home, awaiting a meal she prepares in a separate cooking space. The room is simple. A concrete/ stucco structure with wood beam rafters and a sheet of corrugated tin for the roof. Something like barbed tumble weeds line the open spaces between the walls and rough stick rafters and the roof -- "to keep the bats out." From the ceiling, hang strips of colored fabrics, muslins, cottons, like the remnants from a quilting party, I think. A confetti of cloth that makes me think this room is always ready for a celebration of sorts. Also dangling from these beams are sporadic items of American and Kenyan culture: A plastic Coke bottle, Vanilla Wafer boxes, a local empty juice can. Together, these items remind me of Mardi Gras, and make me smile whenever I look up.

The walls of this room are covered in original drawings and writing. Psalms from the Bible are written in English and Kiswahili and hung opposite colorings of local flora and fauna. It is to me, a holy, holy place. A sanctuary in this 10 x 10 foot room.

"What do you love most in the world?"

My chest squeezes hearing the question repeated. Kizaka breathes in deeply and these four young men, Kenyan boys that I am holding space with, await my answer.

I think, "God." Yes. "I love God the most in the world." Saying such a thing doesn't seem so silly when you are almost in a pitch black room, lit only by a kerosene lamp. I have been hanging out with Paul, the eldest cousin, back from college in Mombasa, for the better part of my arrival three hours ago. (Sitting under a tree raining yellow flowers), we covered Obama, the Kenyan elections and political difficulties of this past year, and my work in the states as a teacher and person desiring change. I know of his trek to college, as one of 3 males that left the village to pursue a higher education. I trust and feel trusted here. My heart is open. I don't feel silly speaking of such intimate things.

"What do you love most in the world?"

"Yes, I think I love God the most, and then the ideas of peace, justice, love, building relationships across race, class, borders, lines....I love good stories, too." They smile. We wait. I wonder. I ask, "And you all, what do you love most in the world?"

I am back in my classroom. I am at North High. I am with the spoken word poets from "Teens Rock the Mic"; I am in the midst of my Writing as Performance class in North Minneapolis; I am hanging out with the Teen Group at the Church of St. Philip's. Rodney Dixon, Jamie Wynne, Tish Jones and Shaina Wilburn, Denez Smith, Jasmine McConnell and Ms. Omorogbe; Joy Chaney, Sharifa Charles and Berato Wilson are all here. Chestine Hutchinson, Gawalo Kpissay and Aaronthomas Green are here. I may be in Kajire, Kenya, physically-- but the spirits of my students from the United States are present and pouring forth in the palpable energy that is this room of Taita brothers and cousins.

"What do you love most in the world?"

One by one, then, each boy answers. "God," "Football," "Girls," "Love." " Peace." These are prevailing answers. Each posed with such earnest, such sincerity, my heart would like to break. It has broken wide open.

How can a person ever go back to being the same again, after such moments of connecting, of questions, of exposure, of cracked-open-honesty and intrigue?

"What do you love most in the world?"

I want to say, "You."

The Road to Voi

Development is a rocky, rocky road.

After my initial introduction to Kenya, via the warmth of faces and the service providers at the Airport, Taxi, and Hotel, my next impression of this country has been formed by the road to Voi, Kenya.

Weathering the exhaustion of "going, going, going" is one thing, as so much joy accompanies the movement. Weathering the affects of navigating rough roads, is another kind of learning curve my body and spirit are registering, for sure. And this road to Voi, Kenya, where I am volunteering this week, is a powerful teacher.

I sit in the bus, three seats from the back end, next to the window, accompanied by my host, Patrick Kilonzo. And I try to relax. I close my eyes. I shut out the dust pouring in and sunshine beating down, and just feel my way over this landscape. The road from Nairobi to Voi is under construction. Three hours of this six-hour trek will be over the rocky, pot-holed marked surface that is the under-construction path. Our bus rocks back and forth, bounces up and down, and my body shifts with each and every jolt - in and out of forward motion. The red earth pours in the through the open windows and my linen pants and white shirt are marked by this dusty air. And I know: I will keep my eyes closed. I will simply register what development FEELS like.

I think to myself, "This road will be lovely, smooth when done, but for now, it's difficult terrain to cover."

How is this like any of our paths to some destination? I am reluctant to call this road, "the road to development." In my mind, this phrase feels somehow diminishing of what exists perfectly at this moment in time: this path. It is the earth. This is landscape as God made it. (Referring to it simply as "the road to development" reduces it in a way -- as if what it is, is somehow "not enough" and must be improved upon, developed, made more.

This road to Voi is like any of our journeys, homes, hearts, careers, relationships, dreams, I think. We are working to step forward. We are working to be in smoother, easier spaces. We are wanting to not perhaps bounce, be jarred, or get dirty and sweaty and hot. But this is all necessary on the trek toward anything.

So, the question, in my body, mind, spirit, becomes, "How do I enjoy this, how do I celebrate each jolt, each moment, in the meantime? How do I smile and lean into the sun, and embrace the gift of now?"

Happy Roads and Paths wherever you are! We are all exactly where we are supposed to be, and this is never fixed in time. We are all in motion....Do you believe this?

Happy Contemplating!

Peace, Love,

Melissa