Qigong and Worry

Sunrise today at 7:22 a.m. Overcast, but a bright, rather than dull, gray. Fresh after a good sleep.

I went to bed last night full of worry. Yesterday my wallet was stolen early in the morning, and I didn't discover it until after church. Last night, as I was calling credit card companies, I learned that gas had been purchased, that a purchase of over $500 was several times denied at Target, that a couple of $100 purchases had been made at Meijer . . . happily I was able to cancel all my cards, although now I need to replace my drivers license, get a new health insurance card, and wait for my new debit card. And get those charges reversed.

And I only had $40 in my wallet.

Rats.

I rose this morning to do twenty minutes of qigong at sunrise, facing east. When I am regular about this practice, which I rarely have been since I moved to Flint, I love the heart balancing poses that conclude the routine. Leaves a smile on my face, and gets me ready to DO things (even the laundry I'm finally going to throw in the washer downstairs).

The past few days have been very productive (that is, energetically focused on producing). Weekends are like that with the public focus on Sunday morning each week, and trainings and actions on Saturdays and Sundays when many people are available for our public work. Add to that a very emotionally draining (and reinvigorating) Memorial Service for Jon Owen last Friday, and an overnight trip to Indianapolis for the Heartland UU District Board of Trustees, I've been very "productive." And pretty satisfied.

The Veterans Day service was quite special. I felt a little more in control of the unity of the service knowing that it would be very diverse due to the number of people speaking. Four veterans spoke during the service, Dr. Van who served in the Army in Korea, Linda Kilbourn who was in the Navy during the Mercury space flights and the early 1960s unrest in the Dominican Republic, Linda Campbell who was in the Navy throughout the 1970s, and Steve Urdy who was an Army paratrooper in Grenada and the first Gulf War.

I had asked that people address why they joined the military, and it was interesting to learn that while one person was fulfilling a family obligation (men in Steve's family had served in the Army since the Spanish-American War), others saw the military as a way out. Linda K got out of Flint and finishing high school; Dr. Van got out of going to jail for drunk driving; Linda C. got out of Oklahoma. All felt that there were positive things they learned in the military, and positive characters that were shaped there, learning leadership and accountability and service. Some said that they had been brainwashed in the process, but never lost their ability to see beyond the rhetoric; and all resisted the conforming culture. "Serving my country" had great meaning, and a copupole of people lamented that today, with the elimination of the draft, we don't make social demands on young people, and we wage war without their being an evident social cost of rationing, for example, or even paying for the wat, which is now entirely being paid for "on credit."

The congregation responded deeply to each testimony and to the service as a whole. In a training on building one to one relationships within our congregation, I asked people to share what was great about the service, and people talked about seeing that issues are not "black and white," that people are multi-dimensional and deeper than we would easily know, and that there is great value in being a community where a diversity of experience is welcome. I was so happy to help us see that our narratives are richer than our issues.

I'm optimistic about the possibilities at the Unitarian Universalist Church of Flint and the creation of a local organizing ministry for our neighborhood, our people and our city.

Time to pray, to shower and to do some wash. Good morning.

Long Night, Early Morning

Yesterday morning, I was rather relaxed as I prepared to go to work. I had written in the blog, had processed some of the previous week, had sat still and breathed a while. After a shower, but not a shave, I put on pretty casual clothes to get to church for a 10 o'clock Membership Committee meeting . . . and noticed that there was a message waiting on my cell phone. (Must have caught me during the shower.) I returned our Sexton's call, and learned, as I turned the corner onto Ballenger Highway, that the church had been burglarized.

A police car from Flint Township was out front, and a group of members were congregatiing around Cheryl, our office assistant, and looking at the mess. All the computers--including my one month old Duo Core iMac--had been stolen, the doors into the office and the communicating door to my study had been kicked in, a mirror on my door was broken, the Brown University chair my parents bought for me was upturned . . . and even my 250 GB external hard drive--with all my backups--was gone. Whew! I was stunned. (But growing angry.)

It's hard to reason this through. The value of the old computers was minimal. What someone might get from a pawn shop (or fence?) would be so little compared to the inconvenience of replacing doors, changing locks, closing bank accounts, cancelling credit cards . . . to say nothing of the dozens of forms on the office computer, the sermons and newsletter articles and the lecture series I worked on for seven months (oh, God!). What a pain this will be to recover where possible, to recreate where necessary, to give up where lost.

The day then was topsy-turvied with visits to the bank, calls to the insurance company, alternative arrangements to get out the church's weekly e-mail update, and preparation for Monday School. Monday School itself was touching, emotional and satisfying for me, and I hope it was for the students, too. We shared more of our spritual journeys, and considered the ways we humans develop our spirituality and for our ideas about God and humanity and religious community and ethics.

Late at night, as the door to the office could not be reliably secured, two members of the Church Board and I spent the night in the church. I slept (peacefully!) on the sofa bed in my study (a gift of Val Neumann, second from the right) and her husband Tom Weslowki; Jennifer Howard (on the left) and Linda Campbell (on the right) slept on cots in the office. They spent time puttering around the church while I was at home trying to pull up my electronic calendar and restore my e-mail accounts on the old iMac at home. when I got there, we watched a couple of episodes of Season 1 of "Absolutely Fabulous," and I laughed away a bit of my anger and anxiety.

Early this morning, Jennifer got up to bring a new key to the sunrise AA group (they start to show up at 6:30), and Linda went home to begin her motherly schedule of getting the boys off to school before her own work day. I didn't hear them leave, but got up, I'm sure, just minutes after they left. I watched the sun rise, spoke to a few guys from the Early Birds, and then tried to arrange these few thoughts.

I slept well last night. Slept with my CPAP machine rather soundly. Woke with the sheets in a ball--as usual. Was a little sad and, well, weary, I guess. Then checked to see if the schedule is clear this morning to get off to the computer store to figure out what's next.

Through the sadness, still the morning is clear. A little too warm. Wondering if it will be muggy.

Step by step.

Good morning.

Smiling and Satisfied

Okay, I promise that this is not a smarmy post-sex post. But I am sitting here smiling and deeply satisfied about weekend activities that left me totally exhausted.

On Saturday, I had an all-day-and-into-the-night work "day." A training session for volunteers who make our Sunday morning possible (greeters, ushers, worship associates, office and kitchen volunteers and sound technicians) brought 37 people out. That's over a third of our active members. What a joy! We shared thoughts about what we have been able to accomplish with one another; we found places where we weren't sufficiently communicating with one another; we tried to imagine being more consistenly a welcoming place for newcomers. I think we shared some positive ideas and hope that we are finding a way to work together better.

Then I worked on preparation for the Sunday service. We had our Ingathering to mark the start of the program year. I arranged the Sanctuary chairs into as big a circle as the room could hold, and tried to make it so that no one would attempt to sit in a second row. (Failed at that one, by the way.) Got a large plastic washtub, perched on top of a box, in the center of the room, ready to take water brought by attendees from the many places our families have visitied this summer. Then went to Bordine's Nursery in Grand Blanc township to find some plants on-sale to surround the tub. I was expecting mums, of course, and got them. But also found a nice looking flowering plum (bushy, not in flower, but with pretty purple leaves) and a green and yellow Jacob's Ladder. Brought those back to the church in time to greet the leaders of our Youth Group who were setting up for an overnight lock-in of teenagers. Then met with Pia Broden-Williams, our Music Director, to cement the music for Sunday's service. Then made corrections to the Sunday bulletin . . .

You can imagine that I was pretty wiped by midnight, when I got to bed.

At 5:30, I decided to sleep in a little (choosing not to write) and re-set the clock for 7:00 a.m., when I'd see the glow of sunrise, and be thoughtful for a few minutes before showering and dressing and getting to church to have breakfast with the teens and to cut a CD of special music for the Sunday service.

Our Ingathering was as rich as it ever is. I was touched to hear the simple stories some of us shared; to note the connections people made to each other; to laugh when one member sought the aid of another in pouring a half dozen containers of water from many places; to see the "more than water" sharing of a seashell, or a photograph; to encourage the children to note well what was poured into the common receptacle, and to marvel when little candles were floated on the surface of the water to symbolize our prayers.

Amy Derrick, our Director of Lifespan Learning, carried the theological weight of the morning in reading the story, "Water Dance," and then talking about how water is such a potent symbol for many religious traditions. While her story was directed to our children, it was the message for us all, and I delighted to see this very-pregnant and very-vibrant young woman showing intellectual leadership of the community.

Pia Broden-Williams, our Music Director, sang "Come Down, Angels" and led us in our opening song "Come, Come Whoever You Are," during which I led the spiral dance, and the closing "Bashanah haba'a," which we sing as "Soon the Day Will Arrive." Pia was raised in an African Hebraic home, and marks the Jewish Days of Awe, and added a soaring descant in the last chorus, when she and I switched over to Hebrew for a few lines, and sped the tempo up just a bit. (Thank you Jennifer Howard at the piano!)

A group of our children took the water tub out to our Memorial Garden and poured a libation at its portal and then poured the remaining water on many of the trees and plants in thememorial garden. We started with the double white birch which is planted by the ashes of John Straw's parents (his grandsome Chris and Leonard helped) and then it was up to the children's inspired play that the rest of the water was poured. And then, of course, the tub was abandoned, as was I . . .

Our monthly "pot luck" luncheon was full of tomatoes, and good spirits; plenty of interaction among people about activities in the church and in our lives. I shared coffee and a little fruit, and stopped for a moment to discover that a 5:30 meeting I was expecting to attend had been moved to another time. I checked things in the Sanctuary, made sure my study was locked up, and left to go home to fall asleep on the day bed upstairs.

I did stop to check in on Lucy Mercier and her boys (Linda Campbell, who had been up all night with the teenagers had gone to bed), and was pleased to be offered a little oven roasted chicken and some potato salad as the boys ate McDonald's. Jennifer Howard stopped by, too, and Lucy and I made arrangements for our weekly Minister and Moderator meeting . . . and then, finally, I went home.

I woke up at 5 or so, considered, for a minute or two, getting up and cutting the grass. But I let that pass, and allowed myself as much sleep as my body would take. Watched a DVD in the early evening (Arlington Road, what an amazing pre-9/11 anti-terrorism movie), and then finally hit the sack at 11.

And rose this morning smiling and satisfied. Watered the transplants and the new plants waiting to be put into the garden. Moved some variegated ivy out of the window boxes and porch urns and into a space at the edge of a maple tree where not much seems to grow. Watered my herbs, again, and the very late gladioli. Tossed old watermelon rind into the cuttings and leaf pile (not managed anough to be a real compost pile!). Then came to work to start the day a litttle early.

Overcast, cool, invigorating.

Good morning.