My awakening to the possibility of new forms of education came unexpectedly in a course I would never have taken had I not flunked Economics the first semester of my senior year at Pomona College.
Suddenly my final semester of college, I was forced to take five courses, instead of the usual four. This meant a lot of extra work—20% more than I had ever handled before, in fact. How would I manage?
I’m not sure what made me choose the course in Social Welfare. Was it because it was taught by a woman? Was it because it was offered at Scripps and the one prior course I had taken there (Shakespeare) turned out to be one of my favorites? Did I think it would be less work than other courses I would be taking? Was it because the class only met once a week and would fit into my already busy schedule? Was it because it was completely different from anything else I had studied until then and it was time for something new? Perhaps I thought it would relate in some way to the path I had decided to pursue after graduation, the path toward ministry.
For whatever reason or reasons, I found myself in a very different environment the moment I walked in the room. There were no tables or desks, only a cirle of chairs. The professor was Jean Barrett, a visiting assistant professor of sociology who had earned her PhD at Claremont Graduate School in 1961. She seemed younger than many of my previous professors, friendly and open, and interestingly non-professorial. As we students dutifully took out our notebooks and tried to balance them on our laps, she smiled and suggested immediately that we put them away. It was our choice, she said, but she predicted if we took notes we would not do as well as we would if we listened with full attention and engaged in discussion. She went on to explain there would be no assigned reading, no texts, and no tests. She pointed to a table full of books at the side of the room. These we could borrow and read, if we wanted to. Or we could find our own resources.
The requirements for the course were to come to class, participate in discussions, and go on field trips. Our grades would be based on class participation and a final project we would work on throughout the semester. The project could be a term paper, but she suggested it include research beyond the library and encouraged us to choose an aspect of social welfare with facilities we could investigate in person, so we could explore both social problems and potential solutions.
To say this first class session blew my mind would be an understatement. This was unlike anything else I had ever experienced in education, something exciting and new. I felt blessed by some unseen spirit of life for flunking Econ and discovering this new approach to learning, this opportunity to try something different from the highly structured academic education I had been previously immersed in.
I walked out into a sunny blue sky afternoon, the kind of late January day that makes southern California seem like a paradise. The air around me was fresh and new. My reality had shifted, and I was grateful be alive in this place at this time. This was not your normal everyday college class, and I was excited by the possibilities. I opened my arms and said out loud my favorite words from the musical, “The Fantasticks”: “Please God, please, don’t let me be normal.” PS. If you were in this class or one similar, please contact me so we can share our memories.
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
Saturday, April 7, 2012
Journey Toward Wholeness
A few days ago the following comment on the Trayvon Martin killing appeared on a chat list: "The UUA's Journey Toward Wholeness greatly oversimplifies the
complexity of racism, while being "anti-", offering little that is is
positive on which to build. Events like this Latino on Black
violence points up that fact."
I've been thinking about this statement for a few days, deciding whether or not to respond. However, my commitment to Journey Toward Wholeness won't let this statement go unchallenged.
I was in one of the early groups for the training provided by Crossroads for the Unitarian Universalist Association, so I got the full unadulterated version. This was in the mid-1990s. Parts of the training were hard to take, no doubt about it. Most problematic for me was the notion that we were asked to look at race separately from gender and class. I still have problems with that. However, I participated in all three levels of the training and found it to be a life changing experience.
I came to understand the importance of the definition of racism--which the chat statement IMHO fails to take into account.
Racism = prejudice + power
Using this definition, it was clear then and is even more clear today that in virtually all institutions of our society power is held by wealthy white men. Many others, particularly other white folk, benefit from the social arrangements created by these institutions.
When we who were white were asked in the training to acknowledge that we were racist, we were not saying we personally were prejudiced, although most of us discovered subtle ways we had internalized prejudiced attitudes. What saying "I am racist" meant to me was understanding the myriad ways I benefit from being white in this society.
I did not carry guilt away from the training, but instead felt empowered to continually examine my reactions and actions through the lens of my commitment to being anti-racist.
For those who find the "anti" prefix negative, I would remind you of the value of other "antis"--like antibiotics, anti-inflammatories, antitoxins, etc. The comparison to medicines works especially if you think of racism as a social disease. To rid ourselves personally of this dis-ease we need to become conscious of our participation in the system and change our responses in order to change the system.
The training included the importance of understanding the relationship among different oppressed groups and introduced us to the concept of "lateral oppression." We see a lot of this today in the prevalence of bullying. One person who is bullied because of her/his participation in a particular group (based on race, social standing, class, size, strength, perceived sexual orientation, gender identity, etc.) may bully another weaker person of a different group--or maybe just lash out at whoever is handy and likely not to resist too much.
Conficts between different ethnic groups are common, because one of the ways to gain a sense of self-esteem in an oppressive system is to oppress someone from another group. It's a very sad situation that perpetuates violence and keeps oppressive systems from changing. Understanding lateral oppression as part of racism helps us begin to figure out how to dismantle it.
What I've tried to do ever since my participation in the highly enlightening Journey Toward Wholeness training is to seek openings where the racist system can be changed. After a period of working thru several UU groups as a co-trainer, I have gone on to active participation in NAACP. Being part of a large movement with primarily black leadership has been another step in my awareness of how racism works and what we can do to move the system in the direction of justice.
So rather than disparaging past efforts, I suggest it is most useful to build on that past and continually renew our commitment to dismatle racis--in our hearts, souls and minds, and in our communities and congregations, and in our world. To do this, I suggest we need to remember the definition of racism.
Racism = prejudice + power
complexity of racism, while being "anti-", offering little that is is
positive on which to build. Events like this Latino on Black
violence points up that fact."
I've been thinking about this statement for a few days, deciding whether or not to respond. However, my commitment to Journey Toward Wholeness won't let this statement go unchallenged.
I was in one of the early groups for the training provided by Crossroads for the Unitarian Universalist Association, so I got the full unadulterated version. This was in the mid-1990s. Parts of the training were hard to take, no doubt about it. Most problematic for me was the notion that we were asked to look at race separately from gender and class. I still have problems with that. However, I participated in all three levels of the training and found it to be a life changing experience.
I came to understand the importance of the definition of racism--which the chat statement IMHO fails to take into account.
Racism = prejudice + power
Using this definition, it was clear then and is even more clear today that in virtually all institutions of our society power is held by wealthy white men. Many others, particularly other white folk, benefit from the social arrangements created by these institutions.
When we who were white were asked in the training to acknowledge that we were racist, we were not saying we personally were prejudiced, although most of us discovered subtle ways we had internalized prejudiced attitudes. What saying "I am racist" meant to me was understanding the myriad ways I benefit from being white in this society.
I did not carry guilt away from the training, but instead felt empowered to continually examine my reactions and actions through the lens of my commitment to being anti-racist.
For those who find the "anti" prefix negative, I would remind you of the value of other "antis"--like antibiotics, anti-inflammatories, antitoxins, etc. The comparison to medicines works especially if you think of racism as a social disease. To rid ourselves personally of this dis-ease we need to become conscious of our participation in the system and change our responses in order to change the system.
The training included the importance of understanding the relationship among different oppressed groups and introduced us to the concept of "lateral oppression." We see a lot of this today in the prevalence of bullying. One person who is bullied because of her/his participation in a particular group (based on race, social standing, class, size, strength, perceived sexual orientation, gender identity, etc.) may bully another weaker person of a different group--or maybe just lash out at whoever is handy and likely not to resist too much.
Conficts between different ethnic groups are common, because one of the ways to gain a sense of self-esteem in an oppressive system is to oppress someone from another group. It's a very sad situation that perpetuates violence and keeps oppressive systems from changing. Understanding lateral oppression as part of racism helps us begin to figure out how to dismantle it.
What I've tried to do ever since my participation in the highly enlightening Journey Toward Wholeness training is to seek openings where the racist system can be changed. After a period of working thru several UU groups as a co-trainer, I have gone on to active participation in NAACP. Being part of a large movement with primarily black leadership has been another step in my awareness of how racism works and what we can do to move the system in the direction of justice.
So rather than disparaging past efforts, I suggest it is most useful to build on that past and continually renew our commitment to dismatle racis--in our hearts, souls and minds, and in our communities and congregations, and in our world. To do this, I suggest we need to remember the definition of racism.
Racism = prejudice + power
Monday, February 13, 2012
WHAT IS WRITING?
Lately I've been feeling ambivalent about saying I'm writing a book when I'm not actually doing much writing at the moment. Then Donna and I had dinner with her childhood friend, Candy Rowe, who teaches writing at UMass Boston and her husband, Raffi Yessayan, a criminal defense attorney and published author (thrillers based on his former role as DA).
We got into talking about writing, of course, and the conversation clarified things for me by redefining what writing is.
Ministers often say that writing a 20-minute sermon takes about 20 hours. Part of the process involves reading, research, and thinking/feeling about the message. In my case, this initial part could take anywhere from 5 to 10 hours or even more. Then there's the preparation of the context, i.e. the service itself, including music, readings, children’s story, meditation/prayer, etc.--another 2-5 hours. Then when I'm ready to put the words together, that process takes 6-8 hours. Funny thing is that until just now, I never related my sermon writing process to the process of writing this book.
Raffi described his favorite role in "writing" as plotting, figuring out what's going to happen in the story, what the point of view is in each chapter, the character development, the flow of action, etc. That's what he's doing now with a book project he's currently working on with Candy and another couple.
I remembered how I used to write term papers. I spent the bulk of the time researching and making notes, all the while formulating in my mind what I was going to say. Sometimes what I would say changed, even late in the game, based on what I discovered in my research, which is why when I was in college, I often stayed up all night to finish a term paper. By the way, I almost always got As on my term papers but generally did not do as well on written exams.
So I realize that right now I’m in the reading, research, and thinking/feeling part of "writing" my book. I'm reading all sorts of things I saved or my mother saved that I wrote over the years--like the many long letters I wrote from Germany and the notes I made about my teaching and the challenges it presented. I'm sorting though boxes of papers and memorabilia, putting them into order—chronologically and by theme, subject, or type of writing. Then I take chunks and read through them and make notes.
Earlier I skimmed and partially read my journals, which cover the latter part of the time period I'm including in the book. When I get done reading the other things I’ve written, I intend to go back to the journals and try to put it all into context. I'm about to construct a timeline, so I can keep track and understand better what was happening when and what experiences may have led to what new thoughts and plans.
When I started my initial work on this project, I wrote what I remembered without referring to these materials from the past. If I had continued on that track, I might have been able to write an interesting book, but it would have lacked the depth and significance that will now be possible. Candy says what people expect from a memoir is a real grappling with the issues raised by one's life and experiences.
Processing the rich materials I have from my past almost requires a kind of self-psychoanalysis. I wonder if I can be self aware enough to do it on my own or if I need to ask for help. I've been considering finding a spiritual director.
One of my recurring ideas about structure is create a dialog between my 60s self and who I am today. I'm still not sure how to make it work, but I'm now learning to trust that when the time comes to put all this together, the structure, voice, and message will be clear and will, in the translated words of Rilke, “flow from me like a river, no forcing and no holding back, the way it is with children.”
I still have the chapter outline I made based on my initial writing, but I can see now that may need to change. I also finally understand why most memoirs I read, especially first ones, have taken the authors a decade or more to complete. Initially I thought I could complete a draft of my book by this summer and publish the book in 2013, but now I realize it will undoubtedly take longer. Still, I remain committed to getting the book out as soon as possible, because I believe it carries a message that will contribute to the social change movements of today.
At the Women’s Lodge Imbolc Retreat and Ritual, the message that came through to me was TRUST THE PROCESS. That’s just what I am now doing as I write this book!
At some point soon, I will start posting updates and reflections along the way at www.seachange1960s.net. Stay tuned.
We got into talking about writing, of course, and the conversation clarified things for me by redefining what writing is.
Ministers often say that writing a 20-minute sermon takes about 20 hours. Part of the process involves reading, research, and thinking/feeling about the message. In my case, this initial part could take anywhere from 5 to 10 hours or even more. Then there's the preparation of the context, i.e. the service itself, including music, readings, children’s story, meditation/prayer, etc.--another 2-5 hours. Then when I'm ready to put the words together, that process takes 6-8 hours. Funny thing is that until just now, I never related my sermon writing process to the process of writing this book.
Raffi described his favorite role in "writing" as plotting, figuring out what's going to happen in the story, what the point of view is in each chapter, the character development, the flow of action, etc. That's what he's doing now with a book project he's currently working on with Candy and another couple.
I remembered how I used to write term papers. I spent the bulk of the time researching and making notes, all the while formulating in my mind what I was going to say. Sometimes what I would say changed, even late in the game, based on what I discovered in my research, which is why when I was in college, I often stayed up all night to finish a term paper. By the way, I almost always got As on my term papers but generally did not do as well on written exams.
So I realize that right now I’m in the reading, research, and thinking/feeling part of "writing" my book. I'm reading all sorts of things I saved or my mother saved that I wrote over the years--like the many long letters I wrote from Germany and the notes I made about my teaching and the challenges it presented. I'm sorting though boxes of papers and memorabilia, putting them into order—chronologically and by theme, subject, or type of writing. Then I take chunks and read through them and make notes.
Earlier I skimmed and partially read my journals, which cover the latter part of the time period I'm including in the book. When I get done reading the other things I’ve written, I intend to go back to the journals and try to put it all into context. I'm about to construct a timeline, so I can keep track and understand better what was happening when and what experiences may have led to what new thoughts and plans.
When I started my initial work on this project, I wrote what I remembered without referring to these materials from the past. If I had continued on that track, I might have been able to write an interesting book, but it would have lacked the depth and significance that will now be possible. Candy says what people expect from a memoir is a real grappling with the issues raised by one's life and experiences.
Processing the rich materials I have from my past almost requires a kind of self-psychoanalysis. I wonder if I can be self aware enough to do it on my own or if I need to ask for help. I've been considering finding a spiritual director.
One of my recurring ideas about structure is create a dialog between my 60s self and who I am today. I'm still not sure how to make it work, but I'm now learning to trust that when the time comes to put all this together, the structure, voice, and message will be clear and will, in the translated words of Rilke, “flow from me like a river, no forcing and no holding back, the way it is with children.”
I still have the chapter outline I made based on my initial writing, but I can see now that may need to change. I also finally understand why most memoirs I read, especially first ones, have taken the authors a decade or more to complete. Initially I thought I could complete a draft of my book by this summer and publish the book in 2013, but now I realize it will undoubtedly take longer. Still, I remain committed to getting the book out as soon as possible, because I believe it carries a message that will contribute to the social change movements of today.
At the Women’s Lodge Imbolc Retreat and Ritual, the message that came through to me was TRUST THE PROCESS. That’s just what I am now doing as I write this book!
At some point soon, I will start posting updates and reflections along the way at www.seachange1960s.net. Stay tuned.
Monday, December 21, 2009
Retro Jesus
Yesterday, while visiting family in Kalamazoo, Michigan, I bowed to peer pressure and attended a Christmas "show" at the local megachurch, Valley Family Church (http://valleyfamilychurch.org/). It was a Christmas pageant with songs from the 60s and 70s, with cast and co-pastors wearing jeans and tie dyed shirts. The description sounded intriguing, so I went along although I had planned to go to the UU church to hear what I'm sure would have been a much more meaningful service on Hope in Hard Times.
The newly built (even in hard times) megachurch had all the usual accouterments--parking attendents, smiling greeters, coffee bar, bookstore, and what looked like fabulous classrooms for the children.
There were glow sticks on the seats and a guided program at the beginning to "practice" using them in response to commands from the video screen. Then one of the co-pastors came on stage and gave a long series of announcements/adverstisements and took the collection. They gave out free traveling coffee mugs if you turned in a "connection card" after the service.
Then the "show" began. For the most part, it was shallow, and at times, downright racist. Their approach was to rewrite words to fit "their" Christian message. Sometimes they parodied singers--Sonny and Cher singing "I got you babe," implying that Joseph and Mary got married before the birth. The Shirrelles (Mama Said) with ridiculous tall fluorescent colored wigs. (all the actors were white). They parodied a black preacher and several times spoke in insulting Jewish and other accents. The worst was when they donned fake leopard skins (men) and hula skirts (women) for "The Baby sleeps tonight" ("Wimoweh" / "The Lion Sleeps Tonight"). They even tossed out plastic leis. The audience roared.
The program notes described the show as a parody--and it certainly succeeded in mocking the original songs and the spirit in which they were written and sung. Yet its purpose supposedly was to bring people to Christ. I wonder how that could be.
There were two points in the show I found meaningful--when Jesus' father sang "King of the Road," reflecting on what it would be like to raise this child. I wish I could remember the lyrics, which were drastically changed, of course.
The second truly touching moment was when Mary sang "Bridge Over Troubled Water" as if she were hearing these words from baby Jesus. The lyrics were only barely changed at the end.
I wish I had thought earlier to take pictures of the lyrics, which were projected on one of the three large screens above the stage. Here are a couple I caught at the end.
This is an invitation across the nation
The light of the world is here .... (Dancin' in the streets)
Yes and how many tears will it take til we know
His death on the cross was not in vain (Blowin' in the wind)
Somehow I doubt they got permission from any of the composers/authors to make these changes. Nor, I imagine, did they even think of it.
As bad as the show was, it did give me the idea that we UUs could do this same sort of show with much deeper meaning. As Tom Schade pointed out, we have the capacity--if we so choose--to more truly embody the spirit of Jesus than those who often claim the limelight at times like these.
The newly built (even in hard times) megachurch had all the usual accouterments--parking attendents, smiling greeters, coffee bar, bookstore, and what looked like fabulous classrooms for the children.
There were glow sticks on the seats and a guided program at the beginning to "practice" using them in response to commands from the video screen. Then one of the co-pastors came on stage and gave a long series of announcements/adverstisements and took the collection. They gave out free traveling coffee mugs if you turned in a "connection card" after the service.
Then the "show" began. For the most part, it was shallow, and at times, downright racist. Their approach was to rewrite words to fit "their" Christian message. Sometimes they parodied singers--Sonny and Cher singing "I got you babe," implying that Joseph and Mary got married before the birth. The Shirrelles (Mama Said) with ridiculous tall fluorescent colored wigs. (all the actors were white). They parodied a black preacher and several times spoke in insulting Jewish and other accents. The worst was when they donned fake leopard skins (men) and hula skirts (women) for "The Baby sleeps tonight" ("Wimoweh" / "The Lion Sleeps Tonight"). They even tossed out plastic leis. The audience roared.
The program notes described the show as a parody--and it certainly succeeded in mocking the original songs and the spirit in which they were written and sung. Yet its purpose supposedly was to bring people to Christ. I wonder how that could be.
There were two points in the show I found meaningful--when Jesus' father sang "King of the Road," reflecting on what it would be like to raise this child. I wish I could remember the lyrics, which were drastically changed, of course.
The second truly touching moment was when Mary sang "Bridge Over Troubled Water" as if she were hearing these words from baby Jesus. The lyrics were only barely changed at the end.
I wish I had thought earlier to take pictures of the lyrics, which were projected on one of the three large screens above the stage. Here are a couple I caught at the end.
This is an invitation across the nation
The light of the world is here .... (Dancin' in the streets)
Yes and how many tears will it take til we know
His death on the cross was not in vain (Blowin' in the wind)
Somehow I doubt they got permission from any of the composers/authors to make these changes. Nor, I imagine, did they even think of it.
As bad as the show was, it did give me the idea that we UUs could do this same sort of show with much deeper meaning. As Tom Schade pointed out, we have the capacity--if we so choose--to more truly embody the spirit of Jesus than those who often claim the limelight at times like these.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
BETWEEN CRUCIFIXION AND RESURRECTION
The Saturday between Good Friday and Easter is a sort of limbo day. This year it's grey and gloomy, drizzly and cold. One of those early spring days that takes us back into winter. But spring is already in our blood, and we know the time is coming very soon for blossoming forth with new life.
Religion gives us stories that bring to consciousness direct understandings of the changing seasons as transitions in our lives. We are so blessed to have these stories. We are blessed to live in that moment of change, poised on the brink of a new world.
Each year we have a new opportunity to make the leap of faith into love. Maybe we only do it this year with one other person, maybe only for a day at a time. Maybe it is only to love ourselves a bit more, for how can we love our neighbor as ourselves if we don’t love ourselves. Or maybe we can reach out and touch somebody’s hand who is sick or dying or just being born. Whatever expressions of love we are able to bring into the world this coming year increase the amount of love in the world.
I figure one day of love in a person’s life balances out two days of hate. One day for the day that is now filled with love, and one day for the influence that love can have on others, so that exponentially love grows and grows.
Hate can spread like wildfire—we’ve seen that more than once. But so can love. And love is stronger than hate. If we can only harness love and learn to live it all the time, we will have discovered a power greater than fire, greater than ice, a power for healing, and justice, and peace.
This is the message of Easter. And “I await my resurrection, feeling fine.”*
*Graham Nash, “A Girl to be on my Mind”
Religion gives us stories that bring to consciousness direct understandings of the changing seasons as transitions in our lives. We are so blessed to have these stories. We are blessed to live in that moment of change, poised on the brink of a new world.
Each year we have a new opportunity to make the leap of faith into love. Maybe we only do it this year with one other person, maybe only for a day at a time. Maybe it is only to love ourselves a bit more, for how can we love our neighbor as ourselves if we don’t love ourselves. Or maybe we can reach out and touch somebody’s hand who is sick or dying or just being born. Whatever expressions of love we are able to bring into the world this coming year increase the amount of love in the world.
I figure one day of love in a person’s life balances out two days of hate. One day for the day that is now filled with love, and one day for the influence that love can have on others, so that exponentially love grows and grows.
Hate can spread like wildfire—we’ve seen that more than once. But so can love. And love is stronger than hate. If we can only harness love and learn to live it all the time, we will have discovered a power greater than fire, greater than ice, a power for healing, and justice, and peace.
This is the message of Easter. And “I await my resurrection, feeling fine.”*
*Graham Nash, “A Girl to be on my Mind”
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Drugs, Sex, and Rock and Roll
The one definition of hippie pagan that surprised me was lack of inhibition. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. That's one of the things that makes me feel out of place in Massachusetts--too much inhibition here, I mean. I'm forever getting myself in trouble for speaking my mind, being too free/relaxed with my body, laughing too loud, talking too loud, speaking too openly with strangers, dancing too freely, etc. I learned all these things in California, of course.
The talking and laughing too loud part came from my lower middle class family. When we got together as an extended family, everyone talked at once. I had a professor at Harvard Divinity School with a southern background who called this style "conversation by interruption." We didn't just interrupt, we talked at the same time--over one another. I only found one friend in my adult life in Massachustts who could do this, and she was from the south.
A lot of the rest of it came from my young adult years in the era of drugs, sex and rock & roll. It's hard to be too inhibited when you're stoned. Psychedelic music lent itself to free form dancing, which was just all right with me since it gave me a chance to move my body from the inside out, following with my feelings rather than some predetermined dance steps. I'd clearly never make it on "Dancing with the Stars."
My generation got turned on to birth control pills in a major way. We didn't know any dangers, and we believed in loving the one we were with. It was almost a religion. Why be exclusive when that just caused cheating and jealousy? Openness in sexuality meant freedom from the uptightness of our parents' generation, many of whose marriages had ended in divorce anyway. We protected ourselves from hurt by knowing that love was all around. What wasn't around yet was AIDS or even herpes. If we got the "clap," we could take antibiotics, and even that didn't happen very often.
It wasn't just about sex, though. It was the whole lifestyle. We had a sort of blind faith that things would happen that needed to happen, that if you needed something--or someone--what you needed would show up in your life, if you weren't too stressed out to see it. So we would say, "I'm easy," affirming that we were in the flow.
On some level, I suppose I still feel this way inside--only I do a lot of planning and arranging, just to be sure. Now I live by a calendar, everything scheduled, even times to relax. It used to be different, and I miss those days.
Rock & roll provided the proof texts and the accompaniment for our lives: "when the inside is on the outside, there's no pain"--"it's only castles burning, find someone who's turning and you will come around"--"feed your head"--"here comes the sun...it seems like years since it's been clear"--"something's happening here"--"you, who are on the road, must have a code that you can live by, and so, become yourself"--"when you can't be with the one you love, love the one you're with" and on and on.
Anyway, the funny thing about being called hippie pagan is that I kind of wish it were true. I wish I were as uninhibited as I once was. Maybe I need to find my hippie pagan young adult self and reconnect.
The talking and laughing too loud part came from my lower middle class family. When we got together as an extended family, everyone talked at once. I had a professor at Harvard Divinity School with a southern background who called this style "conversation by interruption." We didn't just interrupt, we talked at the same time--over one another. I only found one friend in my adult life in Massachustts who could do this, and she was from the south.
A lot of the rest of it came from my young adult years in the era of drugs, sex and rock & roll. It's hard to be too inhibited when you're stoned. Psychedelic music lent itself to free form dancing, which was just all right with me since it gave me a chance to move my body from the inside out, following with my feelings rather than some predetermined dance steps. I'd clearly never make it on "Dancing with the Stars."
My generation got turned on to birth control pills in a major way. We didn't know any dangers, and we believed in loving the one we were with. It was almost a religion. Why be exclusive when that just caused cheating and jealousy? Openness in sexuality meant freedom from the uptightness of our parents' generation, many of whose marriages had ended in divorce anyway. We protected ourselves from hurt by knowing that love was all around. What wasn't around yet was AIDS or even herpes. If we got the "clap," we could take antibiotics, and even that didn't happen very often.
It wasn't just about sex, though. It was the whole lifestyle. We had a sort of blind faith that things would happen that needed to happen, that if you needed something--or someone--what you needed would show up in your life, if you weren't too stressed out to see it. So we would say, "I'm easy," affirming that we were in the flow.
On some level, I suppose I still feel this way inside--only I do a lot of planning and arranging, just to be sure. Now I live by a calendar, everything scheduled, even times to relax. It used to be different, and I miss those days.
Rock & roll provided the proof texts and the accompaniment for our lives: "when the inside is on the outside, there's no pain"--"it's only castles burning, find someone who's turning and you will come around"--"feed your head"--"here comes the sun...it seems like years since it's been clear"--"something's happening here"--"you, who are on the road, must have a code that you can live by, and so, become yourself"--"when you can't be with the one you love, love the one you're with" and on and on.
Anyway, the funny thing about being called hippie pagan is that I kind of wish it were true. I wish I were as uninhibited as I once was. Maybe I need to find my hippie pagan young adult self and reconnect.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Hippie Pagan Speaks Out
There's a great article this week at http://www.uuworld.org/ about the International Convocation of U*U Women. I don't know the author. She's obviously a generation or so younger than I. She "got it" that those of us who planned the program (crones and queens) wanted younger women to feel connected and welcomed, but I must say I feel misunderstood and rejected by her labeling of the opening ceremony as "hippie pagan."
I'm so very glad she understood the importance of the first keynote--on third wave feminism. She got it that we need to connect the present with the past and see ourselves as part of a developing lineage of women (and men) who understand that women are key to the future of this planet. But she didn't get the opening ceremony. Neither did some others.
The Right Relationship facilitator even included in her report that some women had commented that the opening was "too pagan" and that it wasn't their spiritual tradition. I wondered at the time if she would have made that report if women had complained it was "too Christian" or "too Buddhist." My defensive self wanted to shout out: "Hey women, didn't you come to an international conference knowing you might experience some religious practice that was different from yours? Where's the love and respect you pledged to this community at the end of that opening ceremony?"
I realize, though, that maybe what we were trying to do simply didn't come across as well as we might have hoped. As the coordinator of the opening ceremony I'd like to tell you about our intentions and see if you can maybe help me figure out how we might have communicated the spirit of the opening better. I know part of the problem was that we had no time for rehearsal--and I now have new respect for those who orchestrate opening ceremonies at other conferences, like the UUA General Assembly.
I will be posting on another blog--"Rainbow Ceremonies"--a full description and text as soon as I get it up and running. But I can give you some of the basics here.
The hippie pagan label stung precisely because one of our stated goals was to not be too pagan. The worship theme for the whole conovcation was the elements--earth, air, fire, and water. We sang that chant from the UU hymnbook, as was suggested by others planning worship. Was it the drums that made it too hippie pagan? Or was it the chant?
We started with a procession, four lines of women of different ages and cultures--youth and young adults, adult women (35-50, queens (50-65), crones (65 and older). These are approximate ages, of course. We were lining up in the dark and guessing at ages. I was frantically trying to get the lights turned on, so the augdience would see the diversity as we danced in from four different directions up onto the stage.
Once on the stage, we wove the four ages of women together and danced as the chant continued to build. It was a joyous moment for those of us on stage, as we passed by each other and smiled across generations and cultures. I have no idea what it looked like to the audience. Hippie pagan, I guess.
Then one of the youngest women lit the chalice and said the words of the chalice lighting in her language. Women from 5 or 6 other countries then said the words in their languages. Each time the audience applauded. I wasn't sure if they were welcoming the women or rewarding them for speaking their languages. Ironically, I got no applause when I said the words in English. Too hippie pagan, I suppose.
The emcee then dedicated the ceremony to the women from Africa who were unable to attend due to US goverment refusal to grant visas. She read words from the UU hymnbook that included the line: "Gaia, mother of everything." We chose these words because our assigned elemental theme was earth. Clearly hippie pagan.
One of our most beloved songwriters then led a song from the UU hymnbook that she had written. As we sang a group of women did a lovely liturical dance. The women on stage were a mother and daughter. The song has "a rose" in it and mentions one of the seasons. More hippie pagan elements.
We asked the administrator/coordinator of the Convocation to welcome women to Houston, to name the unique location of our gathering and invite us to be open to the energeis of the place. Then we "called the directions," a traditional practice of earth-based religions. Many years ago, at a Women & Religion workshop at GA, four women invoked the directions by naming women who came from those direction. That seemed like a universal way to bring us all togehter, so that what we did. The words acknowleged the indigenous people of the land on which we met and named the different countries women came from. What part of this was hippie pagan?
Probably the most specifically pagan thing came next. The emcee said these words: "We are between the worlds. What we do between the worlds affects all worlds." I think I'll explain what those words mean in my next blog. This is long enough for now. Besides, it's time for "Ugly Betty," one of my favorite hippie pagan shows.
I'm so very glad she understood the importance of the first keynote--on third wave feminism. She got it that we need to connect the present with the past and see ourselves as part of a developing lineage of women (and men) who understand that women are key to the future of this planet. But she didn't get the opening ceremony. Neither did some others.
The Right Relationship facilitator even included in her report that some women had commented that the opening was "too pagan" and that it wasn't their spiritual tradition. I wondered at the time if she would have made that report if women had complained it was "too Christian" or "too Buddhist." My defensive self wanted to shout out: "Hey women, didn't you come to an international conference knowing you might experience some religious practice that was different from yours? Where's the love and respect you pledged to this community at the end of that opening ceremony?"
I realize, though, that maybe what we were trying to do simply didn't come across as well as we might have hoped. As the coordinator of the opening ceremony I'd like to tell you about our intentions and see if you can maybe help me figure out how we might have communicated the spirit of the opening better. I know part of the problem was that we had no time for rehearsal--and I now have new respect for those who orchestrate opening ceremonies at other conferences, like the UUA General Assembly.
I will be posting on another blog--"Rainbow Ceremonies"--
The hippie pagan label stung precisely because one of our stated goals was to not be too pagan. The worship theme for the whole conovcation was the elements--earth, air, fire, and water. We sang that chant from the UU hymnbook, as was suggested by others planning worship. Was it the drums that made it too hippie pagan? Or was it the chant?
We started with a procession, four lines of women of different ages and cultures--youth and young adults, adult women (35-50, queens (50-65), crones (65 and older). These are approximate ages, of course. We were lining up in the dark and guessing at ages. I was frantically trying to get the lights turned on, so the augdience would see the diversity as we danced in from four different directions up onto the stage.
Once on the stage, we wove the four ages of women together and danced as the chant continued to build. It was a joyous moment for those of us on stage, as we passed by each other and smiled across generations and cultures. I have no idea what it looked like to the audience. Hippie pagan, I guess.
Then one of the youngest women lit the chalice and said the words of the chalice lighting in her language. Women from 5 or 6 other countries then said the words in their languages. Each time the audience applauded. I wasn't sure if they were welcoming the women or rewarding them for speaking their languages. Ironically, I got no applause when I said the words in English. Too hippie pagan, I suppose.
The emcee then dedicated the ceremony to the women from Africa who were unable to attend due to US goverment refusal to grant visas. She read words from the UU hymnbook that included the line: "Gaia, mother of everything." We chose these words because our assigned elemental theme was earth. Clearly hippie pagan.
One of our most beloved songwriters then led a song from the UU hymnbook that she had written. As we sang a group of women did a lovely liturical dance. The women on stage were a mother and daughter. The song has "a rose" in it and mentions one of the seasons. More hippie pagan elements.
We asked the administrator/coordinator of the Convocation to welcome women to Houston, to name the unique location of our gathering and invite us to be open to the energeis of the place. Then we "called the directions," a traditional practice of earth-based religions. Many years ago, at a Women & Religion workshop at GA, four women invoked the directions by naming women who came from those direction. That seemed like a universal way to bring us all togehter, so that what we did. The words acknowleged the indigenous people of the land on which we met and named the different countries women came from. What part of this was hippie pagan?
Probably the most specifically pagan thing came next. The emcee said these words: "We are between the worlds. What we do between the worlds affects all worlds." I think I'll explain what those words mean in my next blog. This is long enough for now. Besides, it's time for "Ugly Betty," one of my favorite hippie pagan shows.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
