Lunch!

Friends,

I must share today's lunch:

It needs some kind of name other than "yummy salad with bacon and lettuce and tomato". (If you come up with something, let me know!)

Slice Cucumbers and onions into bowl. Salt and pepper. Dress in Mayo and Vinegar. Set aside.
Microwave three slices of turkey bacon, cut into squared smaller pieces.
Slice three to four lettuce leaves, assemble on plate.
Add salted avocado and tomato.
Layer with cucumber and onion.
Top with bacon and fresh cilantro.

Serve salad with a grilled tortilla and iced tea.

Yummy!

Love!
Melissa

Prayer of Oscar Romero

Friends, Fam, Loves,

I love this prayer. It's liberating. I read it and breathe. I sigh and then inhale deeply -- and laugh!

I share it with keen knowledge of the soil, seeds, sun, and awareness of God's grace.

Peace,

Melissa

...............................................

The Prayer of Oscar Romero

"It helps now and then to step back and take the long view" - wise words from Archbishop Oscar Romero. The Archbishop served the people of El Salvador and was assassinated in 1980 while he was saying mass in San Salvador.

It helps, now and then, to step back and take a long view.

The kingdom is not only beyond our efforts,
it is even beyond our vision.

We accomplish in our lifetime only a tiny fraction
of the magnificent enterprise that is God's work.
Nothing we do is complete, which is a way of saying
that the kingdom always lies beyond us.
No statement says all that could be said.
No prayer fully expresses our faith.
No confession brings perfection.
No pastoral visit brings wholeness.
No program accomplishes the church's mission.
No set of goals and objectives includes everything.

This is what we are about.
We plant the seeds that one day will grow.
We water seeds already planted,
knowing that they hold future promise.

We lay foundations that will need further development.
We provide yeast that produces far beyond our capabilities.

We cannot do everything, and there is a sense of liberation
in realizing that. This enables us to do something,
and to do it very well. It may be incomplete,
but it is a beginning, a step along the way,
an opportunity for the Lord's grace to enter and do the rest.

We may never see the end results, but that is the difference
between the master builder and the worker.

We are workers, not master builders; ministers, not messiahs.
We are prophets of a future not our own.
Amen.

Traveling Home: Seeing God in a semi-truck

I wonder if I will ever tire of how I feel lead by God?

Hmmmm......

Yesterday, I was traveling back from Omaha, Nebraska, through Iowa,
home to St. Paul via Inter-states 80 and 35. I spent the first hour
in silence, enjoying the rural landscape outside Council Bluffs:
rolling farm lands, terraced fields, green crops of corn and beans,
all lovely and breathtaking.

I like being silent on road trips. At least for a sweet portion of my
journey. Ever since I started reading Pema Chodron and learned about
this meditation practice called, "tonglen" I've been intentional
about using my car-time to breathe in the icks and ills and ouchies
of the world, and transform them sending out love and
compassion....It's a good use of time for me, and has lead to some
incredible insights, thoughts, emotions and memories coming forward...

But yesterday, not unlike other tonglen-road-trip-times, I had not
only the awe of inspired thought, but an experience of grace that
felt so completely of God, as the elements of the Universe seemingly
broke open to hit me on the head with LOVE already! Or what seemed:
the renewed promises of LOVE!

But I must back up to before I felt the "LOVE" and was more so in the
space of the "FEAR."

Yes.

It was on 80 that I first noticed some scary things. These scary
items were blown rubber tires littering the highway. I saw at least 5
vehicles in total on both sides of the 4 lane divided roadway,
parked, and wheelless. Drivers pulling out their spares, jacks drawn
and replacement or repair taking place. It was sorta frightening, as
I sped down the interstate going next to 80 mph, and imagining what
my Honda CR-V would look like if it blew a tire. Would I go tumbling
sideways? Roll dramatically over and into the ditch? Would things get
scratched? Would there be an explosion of air bags in the car as the air in my
wheels burst outside?

Why do tires explode, after all? Did someone drop a load of nails?
Were there broken bottles strewn over the pavement? What?

I sent a prayer request to a friend via text, and one to God, and
asked that I navigate safely, get home without having anything explode.

Okay. So, intentional and faith-aligned enough I was along Interstate
80. That was just the first third of my route.

Next: came the stormy part north of Des Moines, on 35. When I say,
"stormy" I may be down playing this a bit. (Today, checking out the
headlines and news of flash floods and six people dead in Southern
Minnesota, I think I am pretty fortunate to report the following.)

Dark clouds. Thunder. Lightening. Torrential downpour. Vision limited
to 5 feet in front of a vehicle, if only and only if a person had SUPER FAST WIPERS!
Nothing else but blackness and a thick sea of water pouring over me.

I have been in such treacherous driving conditions before. I have.
Maybe like twice:

1. Once, outside of Lincoln, Nebraska, when I was 23 or 24, coming
back to Omaha from a Cornhusker game or from a sales call...(In my
former life.) I had to pull over and park it for a good hour, until
the storm cleared.

2. And then the second time, in my early 30's, trying to make my way

through a Winter weather storm in February to attend my girlfriend
Suzann's wedding reception in Norfolk. Yes, instead of a sea of rain,
I was immersed in a continent of snow. That time, I followed a semi-
truck home. The trip that normally took 6 hours, required 9 -- of behind-
the-wheel, white-knuckled concentration. I made it safely, and got a
good toast out of the whole thing, recognizing then that God shows up
in the craziest of places. In this case: I felt the Divine in the taillights
of the 18-wheeler, leading me home. Just like it seemed God had lead
this couple Suzann and Brook to their wedding, against a storm of
fears and concerns and questions. (They are still happily married,
thank you!)

On this trip yesterday, as vehicle after vehicle pulled off the
pavement to park in the grass or shoulder along the interstate, I
asked for guidance. And voila! A semi pulled ahead of me. While I
drove going only 25 - 40mph an hour for the next 60 minutes, I felt
safe. Calm. And completely knew I was only managing to stay moving,
so long as I was being lead. Again, God in the tail lights keeping me
on the raod.

A couple times during this portion of the trip, my semi-truck and his
precious lights got a bit ahead of me, switched lanes, and it felt
like he was going to zoom off and disappear, but I stayed close. And
I was able to steer and stay centered in my lane for as long as the
storm continued.

When my semi turned on his blinker and made way to exit around Story
City, I noticed that suddenly the sun reappeared. Peeked through the
black skies, and viola! The rain let up.

As the truck moved right onto the exit ramp, leaving me almost
completely alone on this road, I was able to read the side of his
rig, "Sea Star." It made me smile.

Within about two minutes, I turned off my wipers as the sky
transformed itself. Sun light in yellow to grey hues, emerging from
the black clouds, lit up the fields. I could clearly see the corn and
beans again. This time, they too appeared transformed, new, story-
book/ movie-scene like: aglow in this post-storm magical light.

And then the whopper: That mythical Noah-and-his-ark-after-the -flood
gift: I got a rainbow. A full blown fully semi-circle rainbow. And
just because God likes to show off and double up on this promise to
take care of us, our hearts, our lands, our lives: He gave me two of
them! Like one was embracing the other, saying, "Yeah, I know you are
bright and strong and arching these Iowa fields in a poetic fashion.
Fabulous. Now, let me just shadow you. Shine alongside. My colors
aren't going to be as intense, but I'm here, mirroring your beauty and
presence."

It all made me very, very happy. And, perhaps not unlike Noah, love
God for His/Her promises. I like the big ways that God manifests in the
natural world. I am especially grateful for how even when I am
laughing and ready to shirk off my perceived sense of the Divine --
as simply being Melissa-ridiculousness, this Creator shows up and
presents a double wammy that seems to confirm His/ Her unwavering
presence in the world.

Gotta say "Thank you!" And "Amen."
Peace,
Melissa

Prayer from Jane de Chantal

Peeps:

Jane de Chantal co-founded the Visitation Sisters, (the rocking order of nuns that I have the privilege of being a Companion to in North Minneapolis.) I know many teachers are gearing up and going back into their classrooms, and the rest of us are mucking and milling about in busy, hectic lives.

I offer this as a short meditation, inviting peace and good energy to flow within, all around.

"Set your soul at liberty,

in peace and calm.

Withdraw it from the taste and slavery

of its own working and do not disturb it

with care and anxiety,

either from above or below....

for the sooner it refrains from that,

the sooner it will arrive at that holy calm, and more abundantly....

In this holy rest, affection expands."

--St. Jane de Chantal

Peace, Love,

Melissa

On Success vs. Faithfulness: Juxtaposing some Holy Peoples' Words

Good God, how this all speaks to me! Henri Nouwen, Some apostle writing to the Hebrews, and Luke in his Gospel.

Let this be my own kind of Gospel. Yes, the Gospel according to Melissa.

The Gospel According to Melissa's wondering and wandering spirit, questioning and desiring heart:

What is success? What is faith? How is a faithful life measured? What evidence do we require to know we are on the right path? What are we responsible for? What aren't we responsible for? How can we tell the difference? How do we discern our path? How does evolution of our hearts and spirits, souls happen? Is evolution something anyone else thinks about as they choose relationships, as they love? What does Henri know about the transformational power of love? What did he experience in his lifetime? How did Jesus' apostles get burned and grow? How am I like them? How am I like Abraham? How are we all Abraham and the Apostles, ancestors incarnated, wondering and wanting and awakening ourselves to Love?

Hmmm.....

The following is a Fr. Henri Nouwen passage that arrived in my email in-box this morning, juxtaposed with some of yesterday's scripture readings.

I underlined the parts of the Letter to the Hebrews and Luke's Gospel that tickled something inside me.

Maybe they will speak to you. Do respond if something speaks to you!

Love,

Melissa
........................................

Trusting in the Fruits
We belong to a generation that wants to see the results of our work. We want to be productive and see with our own eyes what we have made. But that is not the way of God's Kingdom. Often our witness for God does not lead to tangible results. Jesus himself died as a failure on a cross. There was no success there to be proud of. Still, the fruitfulness of Jesus' life is beyond any human measure. As faithful witnesses of Jesus we have to trust that our lives too will be fruitful, even though we cannot see their fruit. The fruit of our lives may be visible only to those who live after us. What is important is how well we love. God will make our love fruitful, whether we see that fruitfulness or not. -- Fr. Henri Nouwen

Reading II

Heb 11:1-2, 8-19 or 11:1-2, 8-12

Brothers and sisters:

Faith is the realization of what is hoped for

and evidence of things not seen.

Because of it the ancients were well attested.

By faith Abraham obeyed when he was called to go out to a place

that he was to receive as an inheritance;

he went out, not knowing where he was to go.

By faith he sojourned in the promised land as in a foreign country,

dwelling in tents with Isaac and Jacob, heirs of the same promise;

for he was looking forward to the city with foundations,

whose architect and maker is God.

By faith he received power to generate,

even though he was past the normal age

—and Sarah herself was sterile—

for he thought that the one who had made the promise was

trustworthy.

So it was that there came forth from one man,

himself as good as dead,

descendants as numerous as the stars in the sky

and as countless as the sands on the seashore.

Gospel

Lk 12:32-48 or 12:35-40

Jesus said to his disciples:

"Do not be afraid any longer, little flock,

for your Father is pleased to give you the kingdom.

Sell your belongings and give alms.

Provide money bags for yourselves that do not wear out,

an inexhaustible treasure in heaven

that no thief can reach nor moth destroy.

For where your treasure is, there also will your heart be.

"Gird your loins and light your lamps

and be like servants who await their master's return from a wedding,

ready to open immediately when he comes and knocks.

Blessed are those servants

whom the master finds vigilant on his arrival.

Amen, I say to you, he will gird himself,

have them recline at table, and proceed to wait on them.

And should he come in the second or third watch

and find them prepared in this way,

blessed are those servants.

Be sure of this:

if the master of the house had known the hour

when the thief was coming,

he would not have let his house be broken into.

You also must be prepared, for at an hour you do not expect,

the Son of Man will come."

Then Peter said,

"Lord, is this parable meant for us or for everyone?"

And the Lord replied,

"Who, then, is the faithful and prudent steward

whom the master will put in charge of his servants

to distribute the food allowance at the proper time?

Blessed is that servant whom his master on arrival finds doing so.

Truly, I say to you, the master will put the servant

in charge of all his property.

But if that servant says to himself,

'My master is delayed in coming,'

and begins to beat the menservants and the maidservants,

to eat and drink and get drunk,

then that servant's master will come

on an unexpected day and at an unknown hour

and will punish the servant severely

and assign him a place with the unfaithful.

That servant who knew his master's will

but did not make preparations nor act in accord with his will

shall be beaten severely;

and the servant who was ignorant of his master's will

but acted in a way deserving of a severe beating

shall be beaten only lightly.

Much will be required of the person entrusted with much,

and still more will be demanded of the person entrusted with more."

Finished Review!!! (Arts Ed around the Globe)

Beloved People,

Help me celebrate!

I just finished writing this review for the Teaching Artist Journal, published at Columbia College in Chicago. The "Resource Roundup" section is edited by my dear poet-friend-colleague, Becca Barniskis, who asked me months ago to write a review on "The Wow Factor: Global research compendium on the impact of the arts in education" by Anne Bamford.*

Lalala! Fancy case study and research on arts education from around the globe. Hey hey! I am a global person. I like art. I am a teacher. This seemed to sort of be a good fit. ?!

So, of course now I want to share this with everyone I know! Because I'm so thrilled to be done! And because Becca Barniskis is probably the BEST EDITOR I've ever met in my life. The woman makes me sound smarter and smoother than I am. (Not funnier ---but definitely more CONCISE!)

What follows is a tiny excerpt from the review and a quote from the book on this Namibian concept, "Ngoma" - which ROCKS MY WORLD!

..................................

At the heart of this global analysis, we need to be able to articulate how and why teaching in and through the arts is an important thing. "The results of this world study suggest that a community—and education—pays a clear price for "blind" practices." Part of our job (as teachers, artists, administrators, policy makers) is not to be blind. We begin by first and foremost naming for ourselves the value of an education in and through the arts. Here is an example from Namibia:

The Namibian Term, "Ngoma" sees the arts as being a united whole. While this same term can mean any one of the art forms, (e.g dance, music, visual arts and drama) it also stands for the communication between the arts and spirit. Ngoma can also mean "drum", but under this notion it implies the rhythm or beat of a drum that charges life with energy. It implies a transformation, where the individual becomes transformed by the arts. It encompasses the individual becoming part of the community, linking the past with the future, the heaven with earth, ancestors to children, and the mind to the spirit. The term Ngoma also implies that the action of the arts has a purpose or function larger than the art form itself. It prepares the individual and community for the task, be those tasks the mundane or the profound, the educative and spiritually enlightening. Ngoma also sees the arts as integral to society (p. 51).

Couldn't we all benefit from adopting such a philosophy?!

......................................

Had to share! Go buy the book, or order the Teaching Artist Journal!! (The entire review will probably go to print in 5 or 6 months!)

Smiles, Good times!

Melissa

*The Wow Factor: Global Research Compendium on the Impact of the Arts in Education

By Anne Bamford

Waxmann, 2006

ISBN 3-8309-1617-5

EUR 24.90, paperback

The Kindness of a Poem

This poem made me almost giggle when I first read it. Yeah, the word "hedgehog" makes me sort of smirk. Want to cackle or gasp with the goofiness it calls up. I keep thinking of Bill-What's-His-Name?-Murray- in Caddyshack. Hedgehog hedgehog hedgehog. A dead hedgehog. (Or was it a gopher in that flick?) Regardless, you get my point.

But the poem has a decidedly different tone than that Bill Murray comedy. Perhaps it's more of a "Rushmore" or "Lost in Translation" Bill Murray poem.

Yes. There's a darkness here. A sweetness here. A message here. A religion here. A recipe here for post-death-mourning-rage-anger-peace.

Kindness is the call of the poet.

While there is still time, let's be kind.

Poem: "The Mower" by Philip Larkin, from Collected Poems. © Farrar, Straus, Giroux. Reprinted with permission.
(buy now)

The Mower

The mower stalled, twice; kneeling, I found
A hedgehog jammed up against the blades,
Killed. It had been in the long grass.

I had seen it before, and even fed it, once.
Now I had mauled its unobtrusive world
Unmendably. Burial was no help:

Next morning I got up and it did not.
The first day after a death, the new absence
Is always the same; we should be careful

Of each other, we should be kind
While there is still time.

A Little Alfred

Beautiful People,

If pithy quotes and sayings don't do it for you, perhaps a bit of poetry from the Public Domain? This too arrived this morning in my email, and took me to departures, moves, sorrows, woes. "In Memoriam" is like "in memory of" - right? And we can all relate to thinking on things from the past, from memory, with a desire to pay tribute to such thoughts, love, hopes, dreams...yes? What I so love and appreciate is where Alfred goes in the 8th verse. I don't know if Lord Tennyson was a Catholic, but he sure as shoot believed in something Divine!

Blessings this day!

Melissa

Poem: excerpts from "In Memoriam" by Alfred, Lord Tennyson.

excerpts from In Memoriam

ii

Dark house, by which once more I stand
Here in the long unlovely street,
Doors, where my heart was used to beat
So quickly, waiting for a hand,

A hand that can be clasped no more—
Behold me, for I cannot sleep,
And like a guilty thing I creep
At earliest morning to the door.

He is not here; but far away
The noise of life begins again,
And ghastly through the drizzling rain
On the bald street breaks the blank day.

viii

Love is and was my Lord and King,
And in his presence I attend
To hear the tidings of my friend,
Which every hour his couriers bring.

Love is and was my King and Lord,
And will be, though as yet I keep
Within his court on earth, and sleep
Encompassed by his faithful guard,

And hear at times a sentinel
Who moves about from place to place,
And whispers to the worlds of space,
In the deep night, that all is well.

"Tell Me" (A poem about a homeless person that is all of us)

I love this poem.

Reminds me of sitting at Moe's Bagels in downtown Denver yesterday, 7 feet from a homeless man wearing a New York Knick's winter jacket, and drinking soda out of a Starbuck's plastic cup. I thought,

"This man and I were created by the same benevolent God. Why does he sit on the ground? Why do I sit in a chair? What is it like to ask for money from strangers? I wonder if he struggles loving himself? What are the choices or decisions of his day? How does he decide to sit here, or where to go next? What does it feel like when someone turns their head away from him? Can he feel the love I have for him?"

I watched him stand, and then had to laugh at his re-arranging of his gear. Namely, the very public way he tugged at his underwear. I thought,

"Yes, when I've sat in a space for a long while, things ride up my ass, too."

Smiles.

God made both of us. All of us.

LOVE!

Poem: "Tell Me" by Anne Pierson Wiese, from Floating City: Poems. © Louisiana State University Press, 2007. Reprinted with permission. (buy now)

Tell Me

There are many people who spend their nights

on the subway trains. Often one encounters

them on the morning commute, settled in corners,

coats over their heads, ragged possessions heaped

around themselves, trying to remain in their own night.

This man was already up, bracing himself against

the motion of the train as he folded his blanket

the way my mother taught me, and donned his antique blazer,

his elderly, sleep-soft eyes checking for the total effect.

Whoever you are-tell me what unforgiving series

of moments has added up to this one: a man

making himself presentable to the world in front

of the world, as if life has revealed to him the secret

that all our secrets from one another are imaginary.

God Speaking

"Melissa,

This is God talking. Pay attention! Read the poem. Put it next to your horoscope. Brezsny and Lerman: they know starfish. And their writing - juxtaposed? Well, let's just say that you are not going to get a more "practical manifestation of divine intelligence" that through these two. And remember: This is coming from me, the Creator of Divine Intelligence! I don't give you sure things like this that often. This poem, though, this Astrological writing: HooHa! Good stuff!
It's healthy for you to read and wonder and listen very closely. Good excercises for your soul. Your inkling to pay special attention to the trees and the bees and those flying baby birds --that's just like the star fish. Trust. You are lucky."

............................

Poem: "Starfish" by Eleanor Lerman, from Our Post-Soviet History Unfolds. © Sarabande Books, 2005. Reprinted with permission.

Starfish

This is what life does. It lets you walk up to
the store to buy breakfast and the paper, on a
stiff knee. It lets you choose the way you have
your eggs, your coffee. Then it sits a fisherman
down beside you at the counter who says, Last night,
the channel was full of starfish. And you wonder,
is this a message, finally, or just another day?

Life lets you take the dog for a walk down to the
pond, where whole generations of biological
processes are boiling beneath the mud. Reeds
speak to you of the natural world: they whisper,
they sing. And herons pass by. Are you old
enough to appreciate the moment? Too old?
There is movement beneath the water, but it
may be nothing. There may be nothing going on.

And then life suggests that you remember the
years you ran around, the years you developed
a shocking lifestyle, advocated careless abandon,
owned a chilly heart. Upon reflection, you are
genuinely surprised to find how quiet you have
become. And then life lets you go home to think
about all this. Which you do, for quite a long time.
Later, you wake up beside your old love, the one
who never had any conditions, the one who waited
you out. This is life's way of letting you know that
you are lucky. (It won't give you smart or brave,
so you'll have to settle for lucky.) Because you
were born at a good time. Because you were able
to listen when people spoke to you. Because you
stopped when you should have and started again.
So life lets you have a sandwich, and pie for your
late night dessert. (Pie for the dog, as well.) And
then life sends you back to bed, to dreamland,
while outside, the starfish drift through the channel,
with smiles on their starry faces as they head
out to deep water, to the far and boundless sea.

...............

SCORPIO

If this was 1700 and you lived in London or if it was 1800 and you lived in Philadelphia, I'd tell you, Go west, young man or young woman. The astrological omens imply that your most useful adventures lie in the direction the sun travels. But we could also interpret the oracular advice to "go west" not as a literal mandate to head out on the road, but rather as a metaphorical exhortation to follow the sun in your heart. So what does that expression mean to you? If you followed the sun in your heart, would you align yourself with a live-giving source of light and energy? Would you do something that fills you with warmth and vitality? Would you answer a call that's coming to you from the most practical manifestation of divine intelligence you know? Or all three?

--Rob Brezsny
http://www.freewillastrology.com

"Eat, Pray, Love": Colleen Berliner Responds to Mysterious Magnetic Forces at Work

The following response to yesterday's blog entitled, "Another Recipe for World Peace: Sorting this Love and Chemistry Business" is from my high school classmate, Colleen Berliner. She is writing from Ohio, and just the other side of a recent decision to take a new job - that pays nothing! except compensates her heart and spirit in deeply satisfying ways. I love her statement,

"I think about the mysterious magnet,

and I know that my happenstance decision to take this job was my heart pulling me in a direction I didn't know I wanted to go."

Enjoy! Read on!

Smiles,

MAB

....................................

Melissa,

It's funny you should send this. Of all of the book club books this

year, this one was my favorite. Mainly because I got to experience

the journey of a woman leaving behind what she thought she wanted just

at a time when my life was in transition. I'd lost my job, and I

realized it was a relief. But what to do next? I took a job at my

son's preschool/daycare because I thought it would get me through to

my next "career move."

And it turns out that this job...taking care of other people's

children...is something I'm more passionate about than I could have

ever imagined. I love it. It pays nothing, but I still love it.

There are neglected kids that I wish I could bring home with me, and

guilty conscience moms I wish I could comfort more. Every child makes

me smile in his or her own special way. Even the button pushers!

Every now and again, when I'm covered in drool and mashed bananas and

snot, I think about Elizabeth Gilbert's first nights alone, when she

was crying on the bathroom floor because she felt bad for being so

happy to be leaving her husband. I think about the mysterious magnet,

and I know that my happenstance decision to take this job was my heart

pulling me in a direction I didn't know I wanted to go.

I'm not a consistent responder to your contemplations, but this book

resonated so deeply with me, that I had to say something. Not because

I want to leave Jay...he's the love of my life!!!! But because I know

what it's like to stumble into your heart's journey rather than walk

confidently into it!

It's late on a Saturday, so I hope my ramblings make sense.

And I hope all is well with you in MN!

Peace Out!

Colleen

Another Recipe for World Peace: Sorting this Love and Chemistry Business.

Dearest Friends,

I"ve been sitting on top of this passage* from Elizabeth Gilbert's memoir, "Eat, Pray, Love" for over a month now. (Yes, my "draft box" shows June 18th as the date that I typed up this excerpt from the book that speaks to my heart, spirit, loins, and all senses of divine longing!) But: What to write about this? How to create a precursory passage that honors the many ways these words inspire me?

Today, stumbling upon the Muslim, Christian, Jewish Prayer for world peace, (that I also blogged about) I had this thought: "How is really sweet love-making another recipe for world peace?" Of course I laughed. I think it's funny. And a question getting at a truth.

* * *

What would the world look like if we could honestly identify where the magnetic forces in us were located, and then honor them?

The beloved and amazing Ms. Gilbert has done her work toward this end. She got out of a marriage that wasn't good, and dedicated her life toward a peaceful existence - loving herself, praying and meditating daily, and paying attention to her callings. She wrote a sweet-a-- book that depicts all this. It's truly a gorgeous documentation of one woman's transformation of her life.

The following is a passage then that, for me, hits so squarely upon a human need to honor and sort this love and chemistry business. I mean here, Gilbert is talking about physical, sexual chemistry: that desire that comes straight out of the animal kingdom. As she notes, it either exists or it doesn't. Our job is to identify it, and then move on: embracing and honoring this vital thing that liberates us, or find out where it is and how we want to honor it. I'm passing this excerpt on, to underscore the beauty and truth of her words, and always: to extend them to all facets of our presences and purposes on the planet.

Where does chemistry live in us? What magnetic forces pull us forward? What inspires commitment and love and giggling, and triggers that knowing joy that comes in claiming our own emancipation? Think about how peaceful and awesome our homes would be if we embraced the freedom that is already present in our bodies? To claim that, is to claim the divine knowing in us, I do believe. And in doing so: we might get further down this path as lovers, love-makers, peace-negotiators - no matter what our station in life is.

Enjoy! Go out and buy Gilbert's Book! She rocks! She knows things. We are friends, even though we've never met. Smiles.

Peace,

Melissa

*From "Eat, Pray, Love" by Elizabeth Gilbert

I tell him, "You, know, it's funny, but I'd been seriously thinking before I met you that I might be alone and celibate forever. I was thinking maybe I would live the life of a spiritual contemplative."

He says, "Contemplate this, darling....," and then proceeds to detail with careful specificity the first, second, third, fourth and fifth things he is planning to do with my body when he gets me alone in his bed again. I wobble away from the phone call a little woozy in the knees, amused and bamboozled by all this new passion.

* * *

When we return to Ubud, I go straight back to Felipe's house and don't leave his bedroom for approximately another month. This is only the faintest of exaggerations. I have never been loved and adored like this before by anyone, never with such pleasure and single-minded concentration. Never have I been so unpeeled, revealed, unfurled and hurled through the event of lovemaking.

One thing I do know about intimacy is that there are certain natural laws which govern the sexual experience of two people, and that these laws cannot be budged any more than gravity can be negotiated with. To feel physically comfortable with someone else's body is not a decision you can make. It has very little to do with how two people think or act or talk or even look. The mysterious magnet is either there, buried somewhere deep behind the sternum, or it is not. When it isn't there (as I have learned in the past, with heartbreaking clarity) you can no more force it to exist than a surgeon can force a patient's body to accept a kidney from the wrong donor. My friend Annie says it all comes down to one simple question, "Do you want your belly pressed against this person's belly forever -- or not?"

Chapters 98 and 99; pages 292 -294

Tiny Assignment for World Peace (or at least a possible moment for happiness within.)

Cleaning my house this morning, and I came across this prayer, printed by Pax Christi USA: A Muslim, Jewish, Christian Prayer for Peace. I like it a lot. Turning then to words from Henri Nouwen, that arrive so faithfully in my email box every day, I'm struck by how beautifully these prayerful thoughts speak to one another.
I'm copying them below with this assignment: Cross the street, a border, a river, an ocean: and shake hands with someone new. Smile at them. Believe and trust in your heart that they are from God, created by Love, and that they have hopes and dreams, wants and needs, just like you.

Peace,
Melissa

Muslim, Jewish, Christian Prayer for Peace

O God, you are the source of
life and peace.
Praised be your name forever.
We know it is you who turn our minds to thoughts of peace.
Hear our prayer in this time of war.
Your power changes hearts.
Muslims, Christians and Jews remember,
and profoundly affirm,
that they are followers of the one God,
children of Abraham, brothers and sisters;
enemies begin to speak to one another;
those who were estranged
join hands in friendship;
nations seek the way of peace together.
Strengthen our resolve to give witness
to these truths by the way we live.
Give to us:
Understanding that puts an end to strife;
Mercy that quenches hatred, and
Forgiveness that overcomes vengeance.
Empower all people to live in your law of love.
Amen.

www.paxchristiusa.org


Crossing the Road for One Another

We become neighbours when we are willing to cross the road for one another. There is so much separation and segregation: between black people and white people, between gay people and straight people, between young people and old people, between sick people and healthy people, between prisoners and free people, between Jews and Gentiles, Muslims and Christians, Protestants and Catholics, Greek Catholics and Latin Catholics.

There is a lot of road crossing to do. We are all very busy in our own circles. We have our own people to go to and our own affairs to take care of. But if we could cross the street once in a while and pay attention to what is happening on the other side, we might become neighbours.
- Fr. Henri Nouwen

www.henrinouwen.org

Happy Birthday Nelson Mandela!/ Reflecting on his "Cape of Good Hope"

(Birthday party for Mandela in Sandton, South Africa.

Photo taken July 18, 2004)

It's the birthday of Nelson Mandela (books by this author), born in Cape of Good Hope, South Africa (1918). His father was the chief of the Tembu tribe.*

What a good guy!

And isn't that the understatement of the day, year? (Perhaps a bit like me saying, "That Ghandi was so peaceful!" Or "Buddha, man: what a good meditator.")

Writing that makes me giggle. ;-)

I'm drawn to the name of Mandela's birth place, offered here by Garrison in today's Writer's Almanac*: the CAPE OF GOOD HOPE?! Hmmm......Auspicious name for an auspicious beginning, don't you think?

Makes me ask myself all sorts of questions:

Where is this cape?

Why "good" hope? Is there such a thing as "bad" hope? What is false hope?

What if a person could WEAR a cape of good hope? What would our world look like then? Would Mandela have more comrades as peaceful, loving revolutionaries? ("Warriors of non-aggression" is what my Buddhist friend Pema refers to these kinds of people as.)

Can someone please design a cape of good hope? One of my arts friends, perhaps? I'm sure there's a market for them....

What would a cape of good hope look like? Would we dance in them? Wear them to weddings and baptisms? To funerals, as well, (especially to those of friend's whom we might be overly concerned for in the afterlife?!)

And then: will someone please write and tell me if they know any members of the Tembu tribe. I'd like to meet a chief one of these days. Yes. That would be really lovely, following on the heels of all of my African-alliances of late. Yes.

Hope you are all having a good day, no matter where this email or posting finds you!

Kisses to Mandela!

Blessings to all!

Love,

Melissa

*http://www.elabs7.com/functions/message_view.html?mid=217630&mlid=499&siteid=20130&uid=0c74fa492f

La Vie en Rose: See this!

My goodness! Who knew Edith Piaf could so kick my ass?

Dear People, I've just come from the Edina Movie theater where I saw this French (?) film about the French singer who was told that her voice was the "soul of Paris." I've heard one other singer/performer/poet/artist that I believe had a voice that originated in the soul of the universe: Ms. Mankwe Ndosi. I love experiencing others' work about which this kind of comment can be made. Seems sort of rare, a privilege, and like Angels or God is standing before me.

No joke.

Go see this movie. You'll be moved. ...I can't even imagine what state I'd be in now if I understood a lick of French. Doesn't matter. The music and story are universal, tragic, and overwhelmingly, woefully beautiful.

Here's a clip:

http://movies.aol.com/movie/la-vie-en-rose/26837/trailer

Peace, Love,

Melissa B