she's just saying...

The godless 1%

forgive me for I have punned 

I just read in the NY Times that the incidence of Americans who identify as atheists is 1.2%.

That is the percent who self-identified specifically with the A-word in this poll. Another 12% described their religion as "nothing in particular." (I'm not making that up.) I think it's harder to declare you're an atheist than it is to say nothing in particular. It means you've thought about it and come to a decision, rather than simply waiting for a sign either way. (Actually, the nothing people worry me - to be indifferent to such a core issue seems profoundly apathetic, but that's another post.)

I've written before about the anomaly of being a church-going atheist. It appears that Unitarians make up .7% in this poll, so I'm one of the smallest of the small percents. Funny. I don't feel that way on Sunday mornings, singing "Spirit of Life" along with my fellow congregants. Thank God (oh, wait, I can't -) that I have found a place where even the smallest point-somethings feel welcome, "a place of solace, comfort and community" as we say in the opening words.

So this gives me the chance to tell my favorite Unitarian joke (of which there are so many):

“How many Unitarian Universalists does it take to change a light bulb?”

“We choose not to make a statement either in favor of or against the need for a light bulb. However, if in your own journey you have found that a light bulb works for you, that is fine. You are invited to write a poem or compose a modern dance about your personal relationship to your light bulb and present it next month at our annual light bulb Sunday service. We explore a number or light bulb traditions including incandescent, fluorescent, three-way, long-life and tinted; all of which are equally valid paths to spiritual luminescence.”

Amen.

Becoming the church lady

In the religion section of online dating surveys (so I've been told) there's a popular answer option of "spiritual but not religious." I need the opposite: "religious but not spiritual."

I'll say it right up front here: I'm not a Christian. I don't actually believe in a God. But I do go to church, every week, and I have on and off for most of my life. I've attended the Unitarian Universalist Fellowship of Central Oregon as a member for fifteen years. As we say in the opening words, it's "a place of solace, comfort and community" offering "encouragement to pursue your spiritual journey." Sounds a little whoo-whoo, but if you know Unitarians, it's really not.

I won't go into UU beliefs and principles; it's all here if you're interested. Suffice to say that it's a religion that embraces diversity in all ways. We have a minister, we light candles and sing hymns. We hold Sunday school and bake sales and talent shows. It feels "churchy." We just don't all adhere to the same dogma.

I grew up as a Unitarian, which is fairly unusual in UU congregations. Most members are lapsed something-elses. So for me there's an additional layer of familiarity and connection on top of the fellowship and spiritual fulfillment I receive. And now I've morphed into my parents: I've joined the Church Board.

Up til recently, I was uncomfortable telling people I go to church and I'm involved in church activities. I sensed a change in the way my co-workers and acquaintances assessed me. I'd fight the urge to clarify: "I'm not religious - I'm not even Christian - I'm really a Buddhist. It's a liberal fellowship that..." blah blah.

But I've begun to enjoy watching people reconcile what they know of me and their image of a faithful churchgoer. I relish privately the irony that they are probably so much more "religious" than me, if that's defined in a traditional narrow sense of being a believing Christian. Often, they'll rush to make excuses for why they don't go anymore, as if I might be judging them.

It's a little perverse to be a faithful church-going atheist (which is possibly one of the reasons I am). But just like so many other families, the church has become an important part of our social and spiritual life. Though Unitarians strenuously don't prostheletize, if you're interested in going with me one of these days, just let me know. There are many ways to be religulous, as the movie says.

WWJD, with a gun and at least 750 live birds

This was almost too easy. When I opened this letter from Henry's adoption agency today, the blog post wrote itself. The event could only be in, where else, Texas!

Call me a bleeding heart Unitarian liberal atheist, but I don't think this is what Jesus really meant. In Matthew 6:26, he said: "Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them." Not shoots them. Just saying.

 

 
 
 

Room Service? Lemme have a Mormon, with some Buddha on the side

If you've been to a swanky hotel in the last few years, you may have been given your menu options of pillows, like this:

How many people do you think actually order up body pillows? Or, you might be like one of the people I used to travel with on business and you already packed your own pillow and comforter (you know who you are...).

But at this last haute spot I stayed in, we were given further options:

I'm curious about that "Help Me" button - do they send up a spiritual adviser?

I ordered both the Quran and the Torah, just to confuse them. Now I'm on a watch list at Homeland Security.

Obama and the Lama

But will anything change?

(Official White House Photo by Pete Souza)

President Barack Obama meeting with His Holiness the Dalai Lama in the Map Room of the White House, Feb. 18, 2010.

(Sorry - couldn't resist that title)

Beestung

Clearly, the universe did not want me to go up to Portland.

First I developed a sinus staph infection (a mere 3" away from my eye as the nurse said), then Henry woke up with pinkeye (can't operate with conjunctivitis in the house), and then, just now, I was stung by bees, one spot of which is a half inch from the operation eye, which has reddened and swollen up prettily.

OK, I get it! Bad idea sliding down into the Neighbor X tarpit! But don't you think the bee was a little overkill?? Sheesh.

(For those who didn't know, I was going to stay at his place in Portland (conveniently 5 blocks from the hospital); I stayed there for the pre-op appointment, we're communicating again and...)

Thank the gods, the goddess, Shiva, the heavens, my angels, a Bodhisattva, the universal spirit, whatever. I got the message. Really. I did cancel the flight, even after a (lukewarm) invitation to come up anyway.

When we're weak, the universe supports us and shows us the way. We just have to listen.

 But really, there's no need to send bees.

Just sit. And pet me.

I'm guessing the Buddha didn't have pets.

Fundamental to Buddhist practice is sitting meditation. I practice somewhat sporadically these days, but it's an important, meaningful and refreshing activity for me (more like non-activity, really). However, it's a little hard to do with lovey, hungry, furry beings climbing all over me.

I like to sit just after I wake up. My pets like to eat just after I wake up.

They remind me of this by rubbing up against me, purring, grunting, dropping balls by my feet, scratching at the door,  barking, meowing loudly, and just generally bugging me. Especially when I'm sitting on my cushion on the floor.

They're my little Bodhisattvas, enlightened beings who stay among us to help us reach nirvana ourselves. I'm guessing their message to me is to stay in the present and take care of others' needs first.

It's a frustrating but loving lesson.

Bob hogging the cushion, deep in thought.

Buddhas all around you

A repeat worth repeating:

I go back to this paragraph, and its viewpoint on life, time and time again. I hope it can help you as it has me.

From A Path with Heart, by Jack Kornfield:

 "A traditional skillful (and at times humorous) reflection can be used to change our relationship to difficulties....

Picture or imagine that this earth is filled with Buddhas, that every single being you encounter is enlightened, except one - yourself!

Imagine that they are all here to teach you. Whoever you encounter is acting as they do solely for your benefit, to provide just the teachings and difficulties you need in order to awaken. Sense what lessons they offer to you. Inwardly thank them for this.

Throughout a day or week continue to develop the image of enlightened teachers all around you. Notice how it changes your whole perspective on life."

The Audacity of [giving up] Hope*

*With apologies to B.H.O.

My friends and readers know that I've been in a relationship (supposedly over) for the last four years that has at its basis the understanding that it has no future. Nonetheless, I've been hoping for a different outcome all this time. This post is about giving up that hope.

The phrase "giving up hope" usually has a negative connotation. It's a surrender, a failure.  But today I suddenly saw it as an affirmation. For me, it's the acceptance of the present, the act of choosing reality over an ephemeral possibility.

In what state would I rather exist: wishing, waiting, worrying, wondering whether something might occur, or deciding that I like the way things are without it?

This doesn't mean that I don't still want it.  If the rat chooses not to push the lever that may deliver a shock in order to get the treat at the end, it doesn't mean he doesn't still want the treat. (And it doesn't mean I feel like a rat, though I might empathize with him.) I don't know how to consciously change a desire, and I'm realizing that that is not the best use of my energy.

That was where my thinking was faulty. I thought I needed to not want to be with him, and was despairing of ever not caring. But it's that I needed to choose to give up the hope that we'd work things out. The anxiety is gone now. I'm not giving up, I'm choosing to accept the present (without him in my life) and enjoying that peace.

OK, for those of you with a short attention span or no time, you can stop reading here. For those who would like to meditate on this further, here's a better writer than me about it.

          Pema Chodron, the Buddhist nun and teacher, puts it this way:

"The first noble truth of the Buddha is that when we feel suffering, it doesn't mean that something is wrong.  What a relief.  Finally somebody told the truth.  Suffering is part of life, and we don't have to feel it's happening because we personally made the wrong move.  In reality, however, when we feel suffering, we think that something is wrong.  As long as we're addicted to hope, we feel that we can tone our experience down or liven it up or change it somehow, and we continue to suffer a lot.
         The word in Tibetan for hope is rewa; the word for fear is dokpa.  More commonly, the word re-dok is used, which combines the two.  Hope and fear is a feeling with two sides.  As long as there ís one, there ís always the other.  This re-dok is the root of our pain.  In the world of hope and fear, we always have to change the channel, change the temperature, change the music, because something is getting uneasy, something is getting restless, something is beginning to hurt, and we keep looking for alternatives.
         In a nontheistic state of mind, abandoning hope is an affirmation, the beginning of the beginning.  You could even put "Abandon hope" on your refrigerator door instead of more conventional aspirations like "Every day in every way I'm getting better and better."
         Hope and fear come from feeling that we lack something;  they come from a sense of  poverty.  We can't simply relax with ourselves.  We hold on to hope, and hope robs us of the present moment.  We feel that someone else knows what ís going on, but that there ís something missing in us, and therefore something is lacking in our world."

And finally, she writes:

"When we talk about hopelessness and death, we're talking about facing the facts.  No escapism.  We may still have addictions of all kinds, but we cease to believe in them as a gateway to happiness.  So many times we've indulged the short-term pleasure of addiction.  We've done it so many times that know that grasping at this hope is a source of misery that makes a short-term pleasure a long-term hell.
         Giving up hope is encouragement to stick with yourself, to make friends with yourself, to not run away from yourself, to return to the bare bones, no matter what's going on. [my emphasis]  Fear of death is the background of the whole thing.  It's why we feel restless, why we panic, why there's anxiety.  But if we totally experience hopelessness, giving up all hope of alternatives to the present moment, we can have a joyful relationship with our lives, an honest, direct relationship, one that no longer ignores the reality of impermanence and death."

 Excerpted from When Things Fall Apart:  Heart Advice for Difficult Times, by Pema Chodron

 

A lowercase buddhist

When asked my religious beliefs, I kind of think it sounds pretentious to say "I'm a Buddhist." So I babble a little about following Buddhist beliefs and that I was raised a Unitarian and attend the Central Oregon Unitarian Fellowship. (Yes, Universalist is in there too - it's just such a long name).

My spiritual practice these days consists of (inconsistent) sitting meditation and reading Buddhist writings. I try to live the Middle Way and follow the Eightfold Path of right thought, right speech, right action and so forth. I attend Buddhist services and retreats, been blessed in a Buddhist Refuge Ceremony by a real lama, and even have a Tibetan mantra tattooed on my ankle, for goodness sakes. So why don't I claim to be A Buddhist with a capital B?

Maybe because, with all that, I still don't feel I've earned the right. Clearly, it's not how you define yourself, it's how you live your life. As the Buddha said, the jewel is in the lotus, which is the meaning of the plaque above and my tattoo.

What do you say when people ask you?

Buddhas everywhere

I go back to this paragraph, and its viewpoint on life, time and time again. I hope it can help you as it has me.

From A Path with Heart, by Jack Kornfield:

"A traditional skillful (and at times humorous) reflection can be used to change our relationship to difficulties....

Picture or imagine that this earth is filled with Buddhas, that every single being you encounter is enlightened, except one - yourself! Imagine that they are all here to teach you. Whoever you encounter is acting as they do solely for your benefit, to provide just the teachings and difficulties you need in order to awaken.

Sense what lessons they offer to you. Inwardly thank them for this. Throughout a day or week continue to develop the image of enlightened teachers all around you. Notice how it changes your whole perspective on life."

I'm sick...

of being sick. Combination of allergy, sinus infection, cold, sore throat, whatever - it's been dragging me down for a few weeks. I'm one of those people who ignores stuff like this as long as possible, but I'm going in to see my nose doc tomorrow. [Funny that different body parts have different doctors.]

We tossed out the marketing department today. We went through files, cabinets, drawers, shelves and desks and threw out 7 years of hard work. It was quite dismaying. First to review all the work that had been done and recall how important it seemed at the time, then to see all the garbage it turned into. We kept saying "Won't they want this stuff? Shouldn't we be keeping it?" But no one actually cares.

Good lesson in the Buddhist principle of impermanence. Things change.