Sometime last summer, I hit a wall. My Light sputtered and I felt exhausted and depressed. I think it was Pivot Fatigue–a condition caused by too many changes and adaptations brought on by Covid, and then by our relentless wildfire season. Add to that the growing needs of our elders, which had also changed our lives considerably.
In a moment of despair, I was inspired to search for a place to retreat from the world and retore myself. I immediately thought of the California Redwoods and found myself on Airbnb searching for a cabin amongst the trees. I found this gem and booked it immediately for early November.
It was a magical spot in the forest, near the state park and my favorite trails through the majestic giants. I stayed for 5 nights–hiking; meditating; reflecting; journaling; listening to Spirit; napping; practicing yoga, Qigong, Tai Chi; dancing; and playing my wood flute.
I was frightened to go. I had received a very clear message from Spirit that I was not allowed to bring any of my books. I had never done a retreat without my books! What was I going to do with all that time by myself? Would I go mad?
Spirit was relentless. You spend too much time with the words and experiences of others and look to them for your answers. They are within you. Go and listen quietly.
I brought a notebook and pen with me and wrote what came through from the Beyond That is Within (another of my names for Spirit). As we begin this new year, I was led to share the highlights of what I heard and experienced.
As I walked through the forest, I was struck by its beautiful perfection. It is a jumble of new life growing out of death and decay, feeding lovely fungi that eat and transform wood that then grows new trees, ferns, and other plants. It is constantly renewing itself in an endless, intricate dance. Some trees are burned all the way through their centers and yet they still stand strong and vibrant, green boughs reaching for the blue sky and new children sprouting at their feet.
I remember asking for forgiveness for humanity and the destruction we are causing to the natural world and I received this message:
You and your species are as wonderous a creation as this forest.
I was aghast! How could that be true?
You are part of the Creation, unfolding Itself endlessly like this forest. You are a young species with much to learn. You are learning. Be patient with yourselves. Allow yourselves to be taught by Nature, to be transformed.
But we are killing nature, I argued.
You cannot kill Nature. Creation is endlessly resilient, like these redwoods, like you. Everything changes and transforms. Yes, you are changing the biosphere into something new. And you are learning through this process.
But species are dying, landscapes are forever changed!
Look around and within you. Everything is always dying and changing, including yourself. Yet from the decay, new life is born. Always new life. Embrace the changes, learn how to dance with Nature, remember we are all connected and nothing ever really dies. It just changes form.
I realized with sudden clarity how judgmental I have been of myself and all of humanity. As the days went by, my heart softened towards us all. We have a role to play in how creation unfolds on this planet. I determined to return to my life and allow Nature to teach me how to dance with Her, how to care for Her and cherish Her as part of myself. We are all intertwined in this magnificent Creation.
Meditation on the Redwoods
Be rooted in the Earth
Reach for the sky
Open your heartwood
Be fireproof
Create
Decay
Die
Give Birth to New Life
Repeat
I was encouraged to be present in each moment, not elsewhere in my head, to embrace what is so without thinking it “should be” something other than what it is. Along that same line, I was also encouraged to embrace myself as I am, while also honoring that I am continuously growing and changing like all that surrounds me. It is perfectly unfolding. My OCD/Perfectionist self was definitely challenged by Spirit during this retreat!
I heard this message:
BE more; DO less.
I spent time taking stock of what I am doing that dims my Light and feels like a “should”. I resolved to make changes to my schedule and open up more space to BE, to listen deeply more often.
One of the joys I discovered about halfway through the retreat was that I was having fun and it was effortlessly delightful! All this fear I’d had of being stuck with myself for a week, vanished. I realized I still had the same ability I’d had as a child to get lost in nature and keep myself company.
Heaven is right here under your nose, open your eyes and see it.
I have a tendency to look for what I am seeking other than where I am standing and living. Repeatedly, I am directed to grow where I am planted and realize the beauty right here and now. I’m sure these redwoods understand this wisdom and are trying to transmit it to me!
The purpose of your existence is to give and receive LOVE.
I could feel that love was in the forest, connecting all the amazing life forms to each other in a symbiotic dance, and that I was also part of this dance. I was challenged to see that it is the same when I am in the human world.
Life goes on. It adapts, transforms, changes forms, but it always goes on. You are part of the Creative, Holy Spirit which goes forever on, creating the next manifestation. Rest in that, trust, and then do the next loving thing in the moment, led by the Inner Light which is ever part of the Great Light.
On Sunday night, June 7th, my tummy started feeling funny and my low back ached. The next morning I felt bloated and a little sore, but nothing major, so I carried on as usual. Tuesday I still wasn’t feeling right, but it wasn’t too bad until the evening when I felt fatigued and fuzzy-headed. That’s when I started to get concerned. What was going on with me?
I thought back on my week and realized I’d had my hair cut, eaten for the first time at a restaurant (outdoors), and eaten at someone’s home on their outdoor patio. While all of these environments had felt safe to me and were with known people in my life, something had clearly gone wrong. But what? If it were food poisoning, my usual experience with that is intense GI symptoms within the first 24 hours that pass within 48. It had been 4 days since my last meal away from home.
So I started researching on the Internet, and I learned something I didn’t know: GI symptoms are not unusual in COVID-19 patients and some patients only have GI symptoms. Ok, so that may explain the toilet paper run… Why was I completely unaware of this? But, I didn’t have a fever, so it couldn’t be the virus. Reading on, I found out that there is a subset of low-severity, GI-only patients who never get a fever. This was causing alarm in the gastroenterology community, because it meant 1) they could be exposed to the virus and not realize it 2) their patients could have COVID-19 and be spreading the virus unknowingly.
Ok, so I admit I got really anxious at this point and it didn’t help my poor tummy. By Wednesday morning, June 10, I was even more bloated and sore and I had no appetite, but still no fever. This was not getting better on its own and it was time for me to consult a doctor.
After breakfast, I clicked the link to Doctor on Demand from our insurance company’s website. I chose Dr. Judith Weiss from the list and scheduled an 11:00 appointment. A few minutes before I tested my laptop’s connection and shortly after 11:00, Dr. Weiss and I were talking. Amazing! I’d never done a virtual doctor appointment before and was fascinated at what an easy and effective way it is to see a physician. From my screening information, she knew my issues and asked me what I’d done over the last week. When I described eating food out of our home, she said she suspected a bacterial infection from the food. She had me palpitate my stomach while she watched intently, asking where it hurt and how it felt. She had me open my mouth so she could see my tongue. I was slightly dehydrated. She suggested I take probiotics (50-100 billion), GasX, Tums and fennel tea and give it a few days. If my symptoms got worse or I started running a fever, call her back. I felt relieved. She didn’t think I had COVID-19, but I could screen for a test and let the health department decide. She spent 20 minutes with me, which was more than I’ve seen of a doctor in years.
In the meantime, Scott had reached out to his sister who is a PA. She called us over lunch and said it did sound like something I ate, but she recommended I do the online screen for our local health department and see if they wanted to test me for COVID-19. She also added that I should eat a very bland diet until I felt better.
I started following all the recommendations that afternoon and I did the screen for Washoe County Health Department. Within an hour, they emailed me back. They wanted to test me and I should quarantine until I got the results back. I stared at the screen and soaked in the message, then scheduled a test. The earliest they could get me in was Friday morning and it would take 3-5 days to get results. I digested what this meant, it was time to cancel everything on my calendar for a week and explain why.
I started making calls and sending emails and texts with my head spinning and my heart beating double-time, while my tummy kept doing flip flops. I think it was hardest for my mom who is 85 and relies on Scott and I to do her shopping, errands and help around her home. We brainstormed about what we could do to get her help in the meantime, since Scott can’t go out either. Thankfully, we’d just stocked her up with groceries. But we also worried that if I had it, I’d exposed her. Other people I called to cancel appointments with, who had seen me recently, expressed concern too. I could suddenly see those pictures of how the virus spreads produced by epidemiologists, unfolding through my own contact list as I retraced two weeks of my steps. What should I do? In the end, I decided the chance I had coronavirus was low and I shouldn’t unnecessarily alarm people. I’m not sure that was the right decision, but it was the one I made.
Then Scott and I tried to figure out what we should do in our home. I knew I’d already exposed him, but we decided it was best to take precautions. I moved into the guest bedroom and bathroom, separated my eating area, washed my hands and masked when in the kitchen. We cleaned surfaces more often and used Lysol.
I think it was hardest to be separated from him. I longed to lay my head on his chest and feel his arms around me. It was strange to eat at another table and to have to navigate around each other in our own home. I felt for all the people out there who are also experiencing this right now. I wondered what it would be like if my symptoms got worse and he had to drop me at the hospital. What if I didn’t make it and we never saw each other again? I was overcome with compassion for all those who are having to do that around the world.
By Wednesday evening, I felt better. I think all the recommendations were helpful, especially the super-duper probiotic. On Thursday morning my mother called and said she’d been thinking about it and her digestive system hadn’t been right since we’d eaten together at someone’s house the week before. Her symptoms weren’t as severe as mine so she hadn’t thought it relevant until she reflected on it overnight. I was flooded by relief. I realized I couldn’t imagine that I’d gotten sick eating away from home, because no one I ate with was sick, except me. This had made the novel coronavirus a more likely cause than I ever would have considered normally. Maybe it was food poisoning after all! So I did some research on the CDC website and sure enough, some forms of bacteria in food can take longer than 24 hours to manifest symptoms and take longer to clear than 48 hours.
As the day went on, I continued to improve and by Friday morning (June 12) my belly was nearly normal. So, it seemed odd to get in the car and drive down to the County Fairgrounds where they were doing the testing and get in line. But, I knew it was what I needed to do for everyone as well as myself. I was shocked at the lines of cars entering the fairgrounds. The National Guard was directing traffic, checking that we had an appointment and then putting us in line to drive up to the testing tents. We were instructed to keep our windows closed at all times and everything was done by sign language and showing an ID out my window. It was surreal. I turned on my radio and listened to music to add some kind of normalcy to the experience.
I came to a place in line, where someone had a clipboard and showed me my lab sheet through the window. He pointed to my name and at me, looking at me with a question mark in his eyes. I nodded. He handed the clipboard to a driver in a golf cart who took me and another car towards the testing tents. As I approached the tent, this is what I saw:
Here’s the team who tested me:
One of the ladies in the hazmat suits came to the car and verified my name and birthdate. She asked me to ease my seat back and relax, it would smart a bit. Then she tickled my brain with a long swab! Well, it wasn’t quite that bad, but she did have to go a ways up into my sinus cavities (both sides) to get the sample. It made my eyes tear up and my nose smart, but it was quick and then it was over. I was shepherded out the exit and headed home. Overall, an impressively organized experience that took about 40 minutes from the time I pulled in. I’m guessing there were at least 100 other vehicles in line with me.
Then we waited. I admit we relaxed our precautions as my symptoms disappeared and I returned to our table and our bed. We were both sure that I didn’t have COVID-19. But, we did follow the instruction not to go out in public until we had the results. I must admit it was nice to have a break from the anxieties of re-entry that we’d both been experiencing. It’s actually harder trying to figure out what is ok to do and what isn’t than it is just staying home! I don’t think I realized how stressful that has been as everything re-opens while the number of active cases keep going up. Doesn’t make a lot of sense. On the other hand, we can’t all stay home forever either. What a dilemma!
During our quarantine, one of my friends sent me a great article that discusses candidly this dilemma. It is an interview with a top epidemiologist and the summary points are at the top. If you have the time, the whole interview is worth reading and the end summary talks about finding our Goldilocks Zone as we navigate our future living with this virus:
My time in quarantine has given me an opportunity to reflect on my own Goldilocks Zone. Where am I personally with what I feel safe doing right now? I’ve got my shopping routine down using a mask and disinfectant wipes and ordering more online. I’m ok with being outside with people, keeping our distance while walking together. I enjoy BYOBS (Bring Your Own Beverage and Snacks) get-togethers with friends and neighbors in our backyards or in local parks. I’m comfortable with our decision to view my mom as a member of our household and continue to help her at home and have meals with her. I think not doing this would be more detrimental to her health than the risk it poses if we are careful about what we do so as not to unnecessarily expose her. Having our housekeeper come as long as she is masked and we stay in rooms she isn’t cleaning, which is what we do anyway. Our planned trips to go to self-contained condos or cabins where they have strong cleaning protocols also feels safe. Though I plan to bring disinfectants and clean again upon arrival…
What do I not feel comfortable with at this time? My overall rule at this time is not to be in an enclosed environment within 6 feet of anyone except Scott and mom, without a mask on. So here are some specific examples of what I wouldn’t do at this time: Eat inside a restaurant (I will consider outside dining in a restaurant whose kitchen practices I trust, but probably not until our number of active cases go down significantly). Go to the gym or pool. Drive in a car with anyone except Scott or mom. Eat inside someone’s home or share food/serving utensils. Be in any crowded group setting. Travel in a plane, train or ship. I also don’t feel comfortable going anywhere further than a few hours drive from home, so I can get back to my mom if she needs me. We’ve cancelled all our summer camping trips with Pearl, as we don’t feel safe sharing public bathrooms.
On the sixth day after my test, we were wondering what had happened? Both my mom and Scott’s dad were running out of things and so were we. Neighbors and friends offered to make a shopping and delivery run for us. We heard that state lab was running behind in processing tests due to 1) the failure of a robot in the lab and 2) simultaneously being inundated with tests from residential care facilities and prisons on top of a high community testing load.
One week after my test, I checked on the quarantine protocols if I were positive. It turns out that you are to quarantine until 10 days after your symptoms began and 3 days after they stop. I was already out of the quarantine period even if I’d been positive! And, everyone I’d had contact with prior to my quarantine was already out of their quarantine period, except Scott and my mom! And then suddenly, later the same day, my results came in. I was negative.
What a strange experience it has been. I am lucky that I am retired and that we had just resupplied ourselves and our parents before this happened. If I’d been working, I would have missed a week and a half of work. If it takes this long to get results, what good is this in helping us prevent infections? If I had the virus and passed it along to any of my contacts, they had already been out passing it along to others for 11-14 days. We’ve got to do better than this if we are hoping testing and contact tracing can help slow the spread of Covid-19.
Last winter, a young couple from South Lake Tahoe visited
our Meeting. When we ended Silent Worship and asked for afterthoughts, the man
spoke. During the silence he’d been meditating on their work making snowshoe
trails through the forest. It was a snowy winter, so there was a recurring need
to set new trails to help people unfamiliar with the area find their way
through the forest. In his reflections, he’d been pondering the deeper meaning
of leaving trails for others to follow along the path of life.
A couple of weeks ago, my partner and I stayed a few days
in a cabin and cross country skied in the mountain meadows near Tahoe. The
first thing we did was get a trail map with suggestions from a local expert on
which trails would be best for us to try. We usually stick with a set trail our
first time in a new spot. When we follow the trails of others, I don’t have to
think about the path. I notice the sky, the mountain peaks, birds in the trees,
the glint of sunlight like diamonds on the snow, the crisp feel of the air on
my face.
As we become familiar with the lay of the land, we often
wander off creating our own trail. This requires more focus on choosing a
course over hills and through trees, and a willingness to take risks. Sometimes
it works out beautifully and we find an awesome new way through the woods and
meadows, enjoying new vistas and spots for lunch. There is a thrill to making
fresh tracks in the snow, particularly when it has just the right firmness and
you can float easily over the top crust without breaking through.
Other times, we don’t choose the best way. On this trip,
the snow was hard-packed and icy. We decided to cut off the main trail and find
our own way down to the meadow below. Unfortunately, I picked a hill too steep
for me to get down safely. Sometimes you can’t tell that until you are
committed. I fell. Assessing the situation, I pulled off my skis and went the
rest of the way down on my hands and knees! At the bottom, I put my skis back
on and we floated through the meadow, over shorter hills, and back to the car.
Last time we tried breaking our own trail, we had a lovely ski, but ended up on
the other side of a river and had to walk a mile back to our car with our skis
and poles over our shoulders! It was exhausting.
In reflecting on trails, I’ve come to see that sometimes
it’s critical to follow a trail someone else set who knows better than you
where to go. Other times, I enjoy the adventure of discovering a new path and
seeing where it will take me. Some of those are delightful and worthy of
sharing; others need to be marked with a big sign saying, “Don’t go this way!”
Queries:
How do I discern when to follow the trail another has set
vs. when to break a new trail for myself?
What blocks me from heeding the wisdom of those who have
gone before me?
What blocks me from heeding my own inner wisdom and charting a unique-to-me course?
New Reflections Over the Last Week
It’s interesting to read this now and reflect on navigating my way through COVID-19 and the resulting fear currently gripping our nation and communities. How do I best care for myself and those I love? What do the authorities in the medical community advise? What are the wishes of those around me? How do I honor my own wisdom and needs?
What I am noticing is that answers to these questions can shift daily, depending on individual circumstances and the evolving situation. Setting any hard and fast rules has proven impossible for me. I take each moment as it comes and make the best choices I can.
Friends have a saying I love, “I’ll hold you in the Light.” I’m holding me, you, and all of us in the Light that we might make the best decisions we can to stay healthy and safe, while still living our lives and remaining connected to one another.
It’s the first day of 2020 and I want to wish you all a joyful, peaceful, healthy New Year and Decade. I was inspired this morning to share a piece I wrote for the Friend’s publication: What Canst Thou Say.
Friends believe that “there is that of the Light in everyone”. Even when darkness permeates our thoughts, the Light remains glowing at the center of our Being. May this be a year of dusting off our Lights and letting them shine.
This Little Light
In March
2017, I spent a week on retreat in a small cabin on the banks of the Trinity
River in California. It was a journey into myself and my past. I carted along
all my journals from high school to age 50, determined to go through them,
hoping to find peace. I brought my favorite spiritual books to support me, my
laptop, a scanner, pre-prepared food to sustain me, coffee for the mornings,
wine for the nights, and a yoga mat.
Days
unfolded without agenda, at first frenetically, as I relived years of being
lost, mostly in other people’s agendas and needs. Yet, somehow the flame of my
own fire and truth continued to burn. I struggled with addiction, capitulation,
escapism, depression, anxiety and guilt, but I also had an inextinguishable
resilience, a faith that love and good was stronger than darkness, a true
desire to be a comfort and support to others in their own struggles. As I read
my life story, I cried; I laughed; I yelled; I walked along the river; I did
yoga; I prayed; I journaled; I read. With time, I became more peaceful and my
frenzy slowed.
I began to
see the longer lines of my life’s journey. By some grace I can never explain in
words, I let go of the guilt I’d always felt about not being perfect and I
could see it was all perfect. I knew that every step had brought me to where I
was and every one was needed, especially the mis-steps that taught me the most
in hindsight.
In my
prayers I asked for guidance about where to go next. At 50, it felt like I was
crossing a threshold into a new phase of my life and I wanted a map.
On my last
morning, I sat meditating and praying on my yoga mat. Suddenly, I dropped down
into the very core of my being and everything else fell away. I heard the Voice
Within start singing that old song I learned as a child, “This little Light of
mine, I’m gonna let it shine.” The Voice Within transmitted this message in a
thought form:
You are
always looking outside yourself or somewhere else for answers or a mission to
complete. STOP. I AM RIGHT HERE INSIDE YOU. You don’t have to go anywhere. Pay
attention, I will bring to you all you need and all who need you. BE STILL,
KNOW YOU ARE ONE WITH ME.
It was one of those sublime moments I will never forget, filled with grace and peace and deep knowing. As I have returned to my normal life, this knowing fades in and out. But some channel opened in that mystical moment and I can tune into it if I am still and quiet my mind. I’ve discovered I’m the one who leaves mySelf, who forgets that of the Light is within me and everyone else.
I was about to press the Publish button, when these photos came in from our neighbor! Isn’t that a magical omen for the New Year? Let’s keep the faith in rainbows after storms, in Light after Darkness.
Today is the 4th Anniversary of our Commitment Ceremony. It was a lovely day, just like today, when we had the joy of sharing these commitments with our beloved friends and family, right here in our backyard at Rancho San Rafael Park.
We started this morning by reading our vows to each other again, a tradition of ours. We were heartened to notice how we live these vows and how much easier it has been than we anticipated. We are both so grateful for each other and the chance, at last, to share this life together.
We also celebrate 6 years and 8 months of being together as a couple and 31 years of friendship!
Scott had dinner with an old friend he has not seen in many years last night. He asked a fun question part of the way into the night, “Wait a minute, is this Rhonda that you are talking so much about and with whom you share your life, the same one you couldn’t stop talking about 30 years ago?”
Here’s to us my sweet love and many more happy years together!
Every other month Reno Friends (the Quaker Meeting I attend), serves dinner to the homeless and hungry living on the streets of Reno. We each prepare food and then help to serve it. I bring my homemade bread, which often brings smiles and sometimes the sharing of a memory about the last time they had homemade bread. Often this is a distant childhood memory from a home long gone.
As each person comes by, I offer them a slice and a smile. Sometimes I compliment them on something they are wearing that shows their personality and style. I’ve seen people from every demographic group come through the line. I realize homelessness can happen to anyone. Sharing homemade bread and a moment of kindness is something I enjoy giving to them. I wish there was more I could do to help. I write to lawmakers in support of low income housing projects and other ways our community is considering to address this growing issue. Somehow it never seems like enough.
Last night I was serving and a woman came up to me wearing a pretty strand of pearls. I complimented her on them. To my uncomfortable surprise, she began unwinding them from around her neck. I said, “Oh no, you don’t have to give them to me. They are yours.”
She looked me right in the eye and said, “I want you to have them. I’m grateful you come here to feed us.” With that she placed them around my neck and I knew it was very important to her that I accept her gift. Tears welled up in my eyes and I embraced her and she embraced me back. I thanked her for her gift to me. She accepted a piece of my bread and thanked me.
I was incredibly moved my this exchange between us and I still tear up when I remember it. She gave me something very precious to her, one of her few possessions. She gave it freely without a thought about letting it go. She needed to give it to me; she needed me to receive it. I needed her to give me a life lesson, about receiving graciously from someone I see as being in need of my giving. She helped me see that the idea of holding onto a possession was less important than the joy of sharing, of giving.
In the exchange that happened between us, we were part of the eternal dance of life in which giving and receiving is endlessly intertwined. The giver needs a receiver; the receiver needs a giver. We are all doing this dance every moment of every day. As I breathe out, the plants around me breathe in; as they breathe out, I breathe in. Many are the hands and life energies that sustain my existence on this planet. My task is to be a good steward of that which passes through my life and to keep passing it on, using only what I need. And when another has a need to give to me, to receive it graciously with an open heart.
I’m still soaking in the deeper meaning of this experience. I don’t have all the words and I’m sure it will continue to be revealed to me over time. To remind me, I’ve wrapped them around the lamp next to my computer where I will see them every day.
This week we went skiing at Hope Valley Outdoors with our neighbors, Bruce and Peggy. This ski and snowshoe center is just past Sorensen’s Resort on Highway 88, before you head up the pass at the junction of 89, and is marked by the yurt which serves as an office. If you own your own skis or snowshoes, it’s only $10.
Rhonda & Scott Peggy & Bruce
We arrived after about 4 feet of fresh snow had fallen. The clouds were clearing as we unloaded the skis. Someone had been out before us and made about a 1-mile loop up the road and back down and around into the valley. It was a rough trail and needed packing down, which we were happy to do. At one point the trail stopped and turned back down into the trees, but we weren’t yet ready to go back. I broke a trail through to a ridge with a lovely overlook onto the valley and the next row of mountains. I was thrilled to find the strength and balance in my legs for the job! Then we headed back down, finally picking up some speed, which is always fun!
I love being out on fresh snow the moment the sun breaks through and glitters on the newly formed crystals. The trees were heavy with snow, and took on interesting shapes as we wound our way through them. The views along the ridges were stunning. We all agreed it was the perfect ski, lasting about an hour, which is just right for us.
Snow Capped Ridges and Trees
Afterwards, we headed to David Walley’s Hot Springs Resort for a delicious lunch at Harriet’s Cafe overlooking the wetlands. While we ate, a snowy egret landed right in front of us and stalked fish in the warm water. Then we had a luxurious soak in the hot pools, gazing up at Job’s Peak and its new blanket of white. Unable to leave this magical place, we headed over to the bar for a drink before heading back to Reno.
That was the topic of a conversation after Quaker silent worship yesterday. A small group of us stayed to chat. The topic of intolerance came up. We wondered together how do we respond to intolerance without becoming intolerant and aggressive ourselves? How do we stay true to our values of peace and non-violence?
Our consensus was that it is important not to meet intolerance with intolerance. But we were uncertain about how to share our values when confronted with intolerant attitudes, speech and behavior. I’m sure we all left continuing to ponder this increasingly important subject in our country.
Then an amazing thing happened. We were with Scott’s father in the emergency room of the Veteran’s Hospital. He is 92 and was not feeling well after a trip to see his twin sister in California. I was sitting in the waiting room while Scott was with Jim in an examining room.
There were two men behind a glass partition in the lobby behind me. One of them had helped us when we entered. I was sitting behind a partial wall with my back to them, reading. I had noticed they were two large men who seemed to double as greeters and security guards.
One of the men began a long, angry diatribe about children’s exposure to homosexuality in the schools. He must have been reading an opinion piece from the local paper, because he kept quoting passages from it. I gathered a video had been shown to local schoolchildren depicting homosexuality as a lifestyle choice, and the writer of the opinion piece objected to this. This man was also outraged, though he had no children, because his taxpayer money was paying for this atrocity.
Occasionally, through the diatribe, I heard the other man’s soft voice interject content into the conversation. Sadly, I couldn’t make out his words because of his soft voice and my distance from the conversation and the glass partition. (Which tells you something about the volume of the other speaker’s voice.) The angry man seemed to take in the calm man’s comments/questions and then launch into another phase of his attack.
I’m not sure how the topic changed, but he began to rant about Pearl Harbor, the Japanese and the bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. The general gist of his point was that we needed enough nuclear weapons to destroy as many of an enemy as we could, because that is what ends wars. Again, I heard a calm, soft response to this. Then, the angry man accused the calm man of being a liberal and a Nazi. He made some accusation about him being from Columbia, so not a “real” American. I remember raising my eyebrows. I wondered how he was going to respond to this.
I so wish I could have heard it. But again, it was calm. Suddenly, the angry man switched tactics and softened. He began talking about his 4th of July plans and asking the calm man about his. If you hadn’t heard what had come before, you would think they were two congenial co-workers. The angry man announced he was headed home and came out from behind the glass partition, heading towards the door. He paused and bantered some more, then wished his colleague a Happy 4th of July before leaving.
I sat there and soaked all this in and I thought, “Now that is Spirit giving you a real life demonstration to your question from earlier today!” I became curious about this calm man. Who was he? How did he learn to respond in this way to intolerance?
Later, when it was decided that Scott’s father would be staying the night in the hospital, I got the opportunity to see him in action. He was the one who handled the admission. It was quick, maybe 10 minutes. During this time, the gentle giant quipped and made jokes with my recalcitrant father-in-law, softening and cajoling him. I watched Jim grin in spite of himself. The man was probably in his mid to late 50’s and had a slight, Spanish accent. He must have been in the U.S. most of his life. His badge said he was a veteran.
I’ve been writing for a Quaker newsletter called What Canst Thou Say? (WCTS?) for about twelve years now. One particular editor, Mariellen, has kept me in the query loop all these years after we were connected by the death of a mutual friend, who also wrote for WCTS?. This newsletter is a place for Quakers to share their mystical experiences and the insights which have come from their contemplative practice. Reading their essays and poems have helped me understand some of my own experiences, and to feel less alone and strange! There is an honest poignancy to their writing, which speaks candidly of the light and dark, blissful and tragic, mundane and sublime that lives in us all. Here is the website if you wish to check it out: http://whatcanstthousay.org.
As my hips fell out from under me, much of my world also changed. I found myself home and sitting much more than I was ever inclined, or allowed, to do before. I felt irresistibly drawn to the writings of mystics and contemplatives, discovering a number of books on my own shelves thanks to my friend who passed and left them to me those twelve years ago. I again recognized some of my own experiences and realizations in their stories, just like I had on the pages of WCTS?.
Some time before my first hip replacement, I had a transformational experience related to a past life and I wrote an essay about it. Mariellen asked if I would be willing to Guest Edit an edition of WCTS? on “Other Lives.” I agreed to do so. More related experiences happened around my surgery and I added to the story. Now I am in the final editing process of that newsletter. It has been a beautiful process where everyone works to come to consensus about what is included and how it is edited. Editing is done gently, with reverence and respect for the offerings of each author. Here is a PDF of my essay:
Simultaneously, I was reading editor, Mike Resman’s book Immersed in Prayer (available on Amazon). Many of the authors in the book spoke about their experiences during silent meetings for worship. The desire grew in me to experience a meeting for myself. I remember getting online and discovering a Quaker Meeting House only two miles from our home http://renofriends.org. I had to LOL while reading their page on “Wonder If You Might Be A Quaker At Heart?” This past Sunday, I decided it was time to go.
Quakers believe that we all have the living spirit of the Creator within us. They seek to be quiet and listen to the “still small voice within.” When they feel moved to do so, they speak from this place. The Reno Friends (another name for Quakers) meets for silent worship from 10:00-11:00 on Sundays. Inside the cozy, brick house, chairs are set up in two concentric circles in a large, well-lit living room. You pick your spot and sit quietly, allowing yourself to settle and center, to be receptive to that “still small voice” and to anything Spirit might wish to impart. In my own experience, it is most like sitting in a meditation circle or group. Sometimes people speak; sometimes there is only silence, punctuated by the breath and stirrings of those in attendance. During my first meeting, no one spoke. I recall thinking how refreshing it was to come and simply listen, to wait expectantly and be still, not needing to say anything.
When the Clerk ended the meeting, we were again invited to speak and again we chose silence. Then the peace was passed to those near us–touching hands and smiling into each other’s eyes. Announcements came next. Some people left. Others stayed to talk, and to find out who I was and how I came to be there. So, I told them this story.
Here is some of what I wrote in my journal afterwards:
I forget the sweet depth I can enter when sitting in circle silently with others. The restlessness settles and my mind quiets. There were 8 of us–a small group. I sat between a mother and her son. Later, I discovered they are neighbors of mine, only two blocks away. Being here feels like coming home. Coming home to something that was always within me and has been pursuing me for 12 years now. Finally, I have turned around to embrace it. I can’t shake the strong sense of having been here before, like being wrapped in an old, familiar quilt from childhood.
Yesterday I wrote about the magic meetings between Scott and I, and Peggy and Bruce. After our coffee with Peggy and Bruce, we headed to the hot springs to soak with Marta and Larry. I promised I’d tell the story of the magic meeting that led to our friendship with them.
~~~
I met Marta in the mid-1980’s in a COBOL programming class. We were both Business majors at the University of Nevada Reno. Marta and I were partners in this demanding class which required us to write computer programs in the COBOL language, a language used for business applications. We spent many hours searching for elusive missing periods and errors in syntax that caused the program to crash repeatedly. Finally, often in the wee hours of the morning, we got the program to run perfectly right before the deadline.
Sharing this experience created a friendship and Marta came to my bridal shower and wedding when I was married in 1988. She was also married around this time. It seems like we lost touch some time after that as our lives moved in different directions.
In 2012, I moved back to Reno after 20 years away. Shortly after returning, I was demonstrating yoga at a health fair. My partner at the time and I were teaching yoga at a training studio and they had a booth to promote their studio at the health fair. I was demonstrating poses and talking to people about yoga, when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around and there was a familiar face surrounded by a cascade of brunette hair. “Rhonda?” “Marta?” That same laugh again, the one that is filled with both wonder and delight. We disappeared into a big hug and everything else faded into the background while we quickly caught up.
Now, what are the chances that we would end up at a random health fair with booths right next to each other after we had not seen each other in over 20 years?
We exchanged cards and parted with an agreement to get together soon. “Soon” happened about two years later when I needed Marta’s help with my mother. Marta works with the Center for Healthy Aging and runs the Philips Lifeline program. My mom needed a Lifeline to help keep her safe in her home. Marta came out to install it. This time we set a date for lunch. Since that date four years ago, we have grown closer and closer. Scott knew Marta from high school, so our friendship also reconnected them. And both Scott and I now know and love Marta’s partner, Larry.
We often go to the hot springs together where we share a membership. When we got in the pool yesterday, another member looked up and remarked, “Are you guys a package deal or what?”
We laughed, “Yes, we are!”
~~~
When I look back at these magic meetings, I am still filled with wonder, and gratitude. How did these old friends end up back in my life after a 20-year absence under such mysterious circumstances? We are even closer now than we were before. It whispers to me of the threads of heart that weave us together in the tapestry of Life. We always find one another again, when the moment is right. This I have come to trust.
