The Spirits

It’s been three weeks since the earthquake hit Haiti and the stories of sadness and deprivation continue to unfold. Hearing the stories of the people of Haiti has introduced me to the practice of voodoo and the faith of the Haitian people.

Voodoo. I imagine that most of us aren’t really sure what the practice of voodoo entails. I am entirely certain that Pat Robertson doesn’t know what it is.

After listening to two stories on NPR, I am not sure I qualify as an expert. But in listening to these stories, I somehow feel closer to how this tragedy is affecting the people who have lost loved ones.

Voodoo is a mixture of Catholicism and traditional African beliefs, which you can understand given the history of the island. In voodoo, they believe that everything – the lizard, the rock, the trees– has a spirit. Voodoo practitioners revere their ancestors, whom they believe are kind of close by and ready to guide them through the medium of voodoo spirits.

I learned that, in general, Haitians don't really fear death because they believe that every person lives 16 times, eight times as a man and eight times as a woman. During those transitions, a person, a soul, will go from body to body, country to country, culture to culture, gathering wisdom and experience. And then, once they have all that wisdom and experience, they can then merge with God.

In order to set the soul free after death, there is a grieving process involves the community to celebrate the departure of the person. People are gathered together night and day and enemies are also invited. They eat and drink together, they chant, they pray. After nine days, they have the funeral.

After the funeral, the soul stays underwater for a year and a day. Then, another ceremony is held to pull the dead from the water. Then the reborn spirit goes to live in a big tree, a grotto or some other place to await its reincarnation.

I love this ritual. Love the way the living come together in a huge way to send the dead off to the next place. Love that you have a year of quiet before you come back and do it all over again. Best of all, I love that only after you’ve had all the experience you need – as both a man and a woman - you merge with God. I think God loves that, too.

Now, I think of the many, many souls that aren’t being delivered to their next place. Because instead of these beautiful goodbye rituals, bodies are being loaded onto trucks and buried in mass graves. Of course, what else could they do?

Yet I think about the torment that will live with these families knowing that their loved ones will be held in some horrible spiritual limbo. That feels like an unspeakable grief. A grief that will last well past the tragedy and throughout this lifetime.

And into the next.

Motherhood

I am friends with women who also are really wonderful mothers. We work hard, we love our kids, we hope for the best, and never seem to give up. We don’t suffer from the desire to have it all, I think we knew or have learned the hard way, that having it all was impossible. So we made choices around that. I am happy to know mothers who span the range of life choices – some don’t work and care for their children full time, others work part time, others work full time.

Yet, it seems to me, regardless of our life choices, as mothers we are continually in a really big struggle. When I talk with these mothers, we all have at least one story. It’s THE story, the story that we are carrying around with us, the one that’s nagging us and making us wonder if we are really getting this right. It’s the story we think our kids will reveal in therapy when they get older.

Stories about how we were just so impatient, just couldn’t listen to that voice right now. Stories of how we lost our temper and oh, yelled. Stories about how we were too lenient just gave in or gave up. Or, my personal favorite, stories about how we leaked out our own insecurities onto our children and they thoughtfully brought in back up for us to look at.

We are working really hard at this and are so damn hard on ourselves when we don’t get it right.

My heart breaks for us some days.

So, l am saying to you, yes you, mother out there – you are doing this really, really well. Our children will grow; they will experience our tempers, our unevenness, our fears and insecurities. They will take them and will make with them what they will. With any luck, it will make them better people.

But, mothers, let’s also remember that in addition to our worst moments, we are also serving up a whole bunch of good for our children. A secure happy place to live. A warm lap on which to find refuge. A sympathetic ear. A kiss when it hurts.

And love, even in our worst possible moments, there is always love.

Music of Life

Yesterday, I was working on a project with my young colleague. He came to my office while I was writing and listing to music. Sorry to interrupt he said, “Hey, what’s that music?”

“This, well, this is called “Space Age Love Song” and it’s by A Flock of Seagulls.” Sometimes, when I am at work and feel the need to put a little extra bit of something in my writing, I listen to the songs of my young adulthood, the songs that just say fun and possibilities. Songs like ‘Save it for Later”, by the English Beat, or "The Ghost In You" by the Psychedelic Furs. Or anything by the Cure.

I realized that the beauty of the Flock of Seagulls might be lost on someone so young.

“When were you born?” I inappropriately asked my young colleague. He said that he was born in 1985, which would, by my estimate, be about two years after “Space Age Love Song” first appeared.

I.felt.so.old.

Today, I got my haircut. My hair guy Sam is a really sweet, young kid who once happily said that cutting my hair is “a crapload of fun.” As he was cutting, he asked me, “So, what do you think about the dominance of Lady GaGa?”

I.felt.so.old

I was speechless. I had not one speck of an idea of what he was talking about. I know Lady GaGa and I know she sings, right? Dominance, well, not a clue. So I asked him what he thought and he said, “Well, I really respect her because she writes her own music, but now she is like totally everywhere and it’s too much. But I LOVE her music, so I keep listening, all day long!”

His Lady GaGa is my Flock of Seagulls.

He is at the same age I was when music was like the soundtrack to you life. The world is smaller then, and a bit less complicated. It’s a time when there is so much to explore and discover. Music just went along with you and became part of that time. I still love music, learning new artists, but always go back to the New Wave music of the early ‘80’s to recapture the energy of that part of my life.

Maybe, twenty years from now, Sam will be teaching someone how to cut hair, and he’ll hear lady GaGa on the oldies station and it will take him back, and he’ll say, “Oh, Lady GaGa, she dominated. Those were the days.”

What music captures that time for you?

A Google search revealed more about Lady GaGa (pictured above). And I can’t resist including the video of “Space Age Love Song” here.

Let’s note the similarities of the hair!

A time of possibilities, indeed.

Simple Things, Redux

Christina at Soul Aperture is doing a beautiful thing. She is asking other bloggers to join her today in writing about the joy of simple things. For each blog that joins, Christina will donate money to Doctors Without Borders to help their relief efforts in Haiti.

I joined Christina the last time she extended this invitation. It was a joyful thing to think and write about the simple gifts in life that I love. I still visit that list when I need a smile.

But today when I try to write about my simple pleasures, I find that my mind is heavy with the news from Haiti. I think of the simple things that people in Haiti are doing without: Water, food, the hand of their loved one, shelter.

So today, my list of simple blessings is decidedly simple:

The smile of a child

This image appeared in last week’s New York Times. To me, it captures a spirit of hope and possibility. When a little boy who is waiting in line for simple things like water and food can find a reason to smile, I become hopeful that there is a future for Haiti. He is the future.

We can be part of it, too. Another simple pleasure is to help those in need. Thank you to Christina for donating to Doctors Without Borders.. I am supporting Episcopal Relief and Development, but there are many organizations doing great work in Haiti. Find one and put your support behind it.

Rain

Today is unseasonably warm and there is a whipping rain blowing through. The warmth and the rain and working together to sweep away the bits of ugliness that have accumulated this winter. The giant snow bank at the end of the driveway is now a small bump. The black, sooty snow that lines the streets is melted away. The sand and salt that crusted the parking lot at my office is now smooth. Brown, wet grass is appearing everywhere.

“Let's cancel that walk,” my friend said. But the outside is calling to me. I want to go walk in the rain, and have the rain work its magic on me. Just like it’s washing away the dirty snow, I want the rain to wash away the affects of the long, cold, winter. I want wind that feels warm when it blows on my face, and rain to soak into my dry skin. I want to smell the earth, to walk on grass and feel that underneath there are flowers that are doing their work, getting ready for their debut.

I’ve lived here long enough to know that this is just a freaky day and there is still some work to do with winter. Candles to light against the darkness. Dry skin to soothe. Snow to shovel. Sweaters to pull over.

But still, there is today, with its mighty wind and driving rain, reminding us of what lies ahead.

Spring.

Hopeful photo by the brilliant Jillian Patterson. Since it's a rainy day, take a trip over to her site to see other beautiful images.

A Force for Hope

When my daughter E started third grade, some wise person said that this would be the year when she stops learning to read and starts reading to learn. Halfway through the year, that feels so incredibly true.

Over the last month, for example, she has been studying the skeletal system and has been using her knowledge extensively. “Ouch,” I’ll hear from the other room. “You okay?” “Yes, I just bumped my cranium.” Stubbing her foot on the threshold of the doorway, she cried “Oh! My glider joint!” I wondered if the dog way okay when she was taking extra long to crunch a carrot, “She’s fine,” E said, “She is just moving her mandible.”

This week, she is learning about the life of The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Her assignment last night was to read a few pages of his biography and write down a few notes that she can use for a report. She wrote down:

• Martin was friends with a white boy
• Martin studied the life of Mahatma Gandhi
• There were signs that said ‘white only”
• Black people were kept out of restaurants, hotels, and even some churches.

Even some churches.

So, she learns. And while it’s critical for her to know this, to understand our past, I struggle with the painful lessons of racism that she is learning. My heart just ached when she asked me, “Why were they kept out of the churches, Mommie?” I was left speechless.

For help, I went back to Dr. King himself. At church, we read his Letter from Birmingham Jail, dated April 16, 1963. It’s a powerful questioning of the churches passive stance on racism and its judgment of his work. I read the letter again last night, and these were the words that lived for me:

“Perhaps I have once again been too optimistic. Is organized religion too inextricably bound to the status quo to save our nation and the world? Perhaps I must turn my faith to the inner spiritual church, the church within the church, as the true ekklesia and the hope of the world….

But even if the church does not come to the aid of justice, I have no despair about the future. I have no fear about the outcome of our struggle in Birmingham, even if our motives are at present misunderstood. We will reach the goal of freedom in Birmingham and all over the nation, because the goal of America is freedom. Abused and scorned though we may be, our destiny is tied up with America's destiny. …If the inexpressible cruelties of slavery could not stop us, the opposition we now face will surely fail. We will win our freedom because the sacred heritage of our nation and the eternal will of God are embodied in our echoing demands.”

I still can’t explain how the people of God could stand by and let the atrocities of racism happen. But it does remind me of the power of the inner spiritual church and the need to be a force for hope in the world. And this hope, the day after a bitter election that puts at risk an agenda designed support and care for others, feels more important than ever.

Let’s Do This

Let’s get this done.

Ted Kennedy fought for health care for three decades. It was his life’s work, his passion. He died without being able to see it to fruition, but now we are on the verge of making it happen. Okay, it’s not perfect. It won’t ever be perfect, but it’s a start. A start that we can grow and develop and change, but we need the start.

The senate race is in Massachusetts is in a dead heat. I am glad for the democratic process, but right now feel compelled to vote for Martha Coakley and to encourage the people who read this and live in Massachusetts to do the same.

Be sure that tomorrow, you get out and vote. And please consider voting for Martha Coakley.

She stands for many of the things that I believe will make our country better. I believe she will make a great senator.

And right now, in front of us, is the real chance to make health care accessible to everyone. Everyone. She can make that happen, and that is not a small thing.

Before he died, Senator Kennedy wrote to President Obama and said:

“When I thought of all the years, all the battles, and all the memories of my long public life, I felt confident in these closing days that while I will not be there when it happens, you will be the President who at long last signs into law the health care reform that is the great unfinished business of our society. For me, this cause stretched across decades; it has been disappointed, but never finally defeated. It was the cause of my life. And in the past year, the prospect of victory sustained me-and the work of achieving it summoned my energy and determination.”

"And so because of your vision and resolve, I came to believe that soon, very soon, affordable health coverage will be available to all, in an America where the state of a family’s health will never again depend on the amount of a family’s wealth. And while I will not see the victory, I was able to look forward and know that we will — yes, we will — fulfill the promise of health care in America as a right and not a privilege."

I believed in Ted Kennedy, and believed in his life’s work. I want health care for everyone and I want a Senator who can continue on where Ted Kennedy left off.

As my nine-year old wise sage told me last night, “I think they should have health care for everyone. Because, if you are sick and it costs like $500 to get better and say, you only have like $20, then you should still be able to get better.”

The great unfinished business of our society.

Get out tomorrow and vote for Martha Coakley!