The Divine Light Inside of Me

Spirit came to me in many ways.  When I was five years old, I would  look up at the stars, just before the first light, the false dawn of the morning, I would see the Milky Way, the Big Dipper, and the ever constant Polaris.  This was the center point, the place in the world that the axis of this planet moved around, every day.  

The great constellations of the Zodiac rotated around the edges of the sky, telling me the seasons.  And the Sun and the Moon had their roles, and danced through the days and the seasons, and the years. 

The Big Dipper would rotate around Polaris, the great North Star, telling me the hour.  

If I let my mind wander and imagine, other shapes and animals and gods would appear in my mind, in clusters and patterns of the stars in the dark sky.

Once in a while, a meteor would plunge close enough to this planet's atmosphere, and begin to glow.  Quickly, it moved across my field of vision, in a brief instant, and then be gone.  Did it plunge to earth? Did it burn up in the air? Or did I just imagine it, part of my wishful thinking of what I wanted to see as I gazed upward, outward.  

Infinity was out there.  Stars without number, even galaxies without number, true space without measure, without comprehension.  

And, I would lie on the grass and gaze at the blue sky and white clouds, feeling connected, feeling content with who I was, part of the clouds and the sky and everything else in the world.

Rather than feel small and insignificant about all that, I felt a part of the glorious Greater of all of what I could see, what I could sense deep inside me.  I was part of all of this.  I am part of the Greater.

Deep inside of me, I felt a great Quietness.  Yes, this is true, fundamentally, inherently, obviously true.  There was order and sense, and logic.  My heart and my reason agreed, and heard the same wisdom.  

At five years old, I knew this to be true.  And Spirit came to me, in many ways, and quietly, calmly agreed.  Intuitively, inherently, this was True.  

And, in that great calm of wondering why, the animals and the plants, and the rocks, dirt, trees, and water of this world were in agreement.  Yes, this is the order of things, this is the Way.  It is not complicated, it is not difficult or even mysterious.  It simply Is.  As a child, I was quite innocent of the ways of humans, and spent much of my time with the things in nature.  And, I observed and experienced the things of nature in many ways.  And, in all that, I felt this Divine Reassurance, this Acceptance of the Way of the Universe.  And, in knowing this, deep down, in my very core, this gave me peace and a sense of my place in the Universe.  

Other people have preached to me of their spirituality, and their religions, telling me their conclusion is that they are apart from God, disconnected.  And, it is only through their faith and their theology that they can connect with God, and be united.  In their belief, they are imperfect, flawed.  They need to be redeemed, purified somehow of sins and flaws so deep that only the Divine compassion can cleanse them and make them whole again.  

And, this can only occur when one has faith, and one has belief, and is, somehow, at a point in their internal sense of themselves, unworthy of the Divine.  It is only by accepting their worthlessness, and their totally flawed personhood, that they can then have hope for redemption and forgiveness, and be united with God.

They are separate from God, incomplete, and unworthy of the Universe, unworthy of Divine Love.  If one adds "faith" and kowtows to the will of God, then, perhaps, a person can become worthy of God's love.  Such dispensation of "grace" puts the sinner at a disadvantage in this negotiation with God, an unequal bargaining at best.  

This theology also holds as an essential tenet that God created a divine offspring, a son.  And, this son was human and thus flawed, yet divine and all wise.  And, the son needed to be tortured and die a horrible death before the son could be reunited with his father, who is God.  And, in this act of suffering and torture, and death, then humankind, if they had faith in all of this, could be redeemed and forgiven of their sins against God, and become true children of God.

In all of this, there is an assumption that a person is removed and apart from God, and that the only means to be forgiven, reconnected, and purified of "sin" is by believing this theology, accepting it on faith alone, and to also believe this is the only path of salvation and redemption with God.

God has a plan for all of us, but you first must believe you are filled with sin, that this son of God was tortured and died for you, and if you beg for forgiveness and accept this theology, then and only then can you have a chance of being united with God and be one of the Chosen Ones.  All others are doomed to remain lost and apart from God, and to end this life by going to hell, and burning forever.  One's soul is thus lost and can never become united with God.

Much of this theology has created great bureaucracies of intermediaries, who interpret writings and tell their listeners what to believe, and how they are basically evil and dirty, and must go to the priests in order to find God.  And, such priests are infallible and have the keys to the only correct way to connect with God.  

The challenge for me in reading and studying such a theology is that within the scriptures of such faiths and religions, and in listening to the wisdom of some enlightened priests and students of the theology, are kernels of wisdom and Divine Love and Compassion.  And, in my studies, I have learned much about how to live, about unconditional love, and being a part of God.  

Yet, such theologies seem to demand a price to the kingdom of Heaven, and you can't just buy some of the package, you have to buy it all.  Otherwise, you will still be filled with sin and you will never know God.  

So, I don't "believe" and I don't "accept" the son of God as my key to salvation.  In my community, I am outside of the fence, not even comfortable in the back row of the church, not part of the prayer circle.  My heart and my head pull me away from such thinking, and such public displays.  

Such is not my path, and I have no business walking there.  

And, I look into the stars and the blackness of the Universe between the stars, and I look at a flower, and feel the kiss of a raindrop, and look at a sunset, and experience all the other wonders of life, and such a theology makes no sense to me.  

I am part of the Universe, a child of the Universe.  Inside of me burns an eternal flame, the flame of Spirit, of all of the Universe.  My body contains atoms of the Universe, and I am energized and invigorated by the energies of the Universe, of Spirit, of the great order and structure of it All.  

I only have to open my heart and listen, and feel, and touch and intuit in order to feel one with the Whole.

I do not need an intermediary nor do I need to read various revisions of ancient writings, massaged and managed by bureaucrats or politicians in priestly garb, or others who seek to hold the keys to Heaven in order to manipulate others and hold  power over others.  

Yes, I will study what others have written and sung and created in their art as to the essence of the Universe.  But, I do not think that others, even if they claim to be divinely inspired, are the sole keepers of divine wisdom and correct theology.

I crave beauty and the essence of Spirit in my heart.  I hunger to be connected, and to feel and experience the Love energy in this Universe.  I have need of making sense of life and finding my purpose and my mission. I crave companionship and love and personal worth and spiritual contentment.  We all do.  Such needs and cravings are the core of our humanity.  

Yet, I do not find the answers to my quests in the bibles and sacred writings of Religion.  Those, in my experience, may be inspired by the Divine energy, in the beginning. But, they have been warped and rewritten by those seeking advantage over others, and altered according to the winds of popular sentiment, bigotry, exclusivity, power hunger, and greed.  Such writings, and contemporary interpretations become hollow in my heart, empty of the Divine, and fatally infected with the disease of human politics.  

Instead, I seek the guideposts and tools of those who have gone before me on the spiritual path, ways of opening my heart, of being in touch with the Divine, being able to recognize the Voice of Spirit inside of me, and to deeply connect my self  with my own Divinity, my own God energy, that flame that burns bright deep inside of me.  

My work on connecting with the Universe, with Spirit, begins and ends inside of me.  What I seek is truly inside of me, is an essential part of me, and is, truly, the essence of me.  

I do not need to go and find it in a church, a temple, or in a dusty book of what others may see as holy scripture.   Such places dim my own Divine Light, and clutter my path.  

I tend the Flame inside of me.  And, I share that Light with all beings.

January 8, 2012.

Making Peace

Making Peace

It is Christmas.  It is a time for being in peace, for thinking about peace.  

One would hope that peace would be on our minds every day of the year, and be something we strive for in everything we do.  Peace shouldn’t just be one of those popular ideas of a particular season.  

Many of us have religious beliefs that profess we believe in peace, that we should be peacemakers as we go about our lives, raising our families, do our jobs, and live in our communities.  

Yet, much of societal life is obsessed with competition, making a profit, and feeding a variety of addictions.  Lying and stealing, even though we find other names for that, is ever-present in our community lives.  

If I really believe in peace, and know that I have a Divine direction to live in peace, to practice peace, and to truly be a peacemaker, then how do I accomplish that?  

I get pulled and dragged to live otherwise.

If I pay attention to popular culture, and much of the media, then I soon find myself absorbed by violence, by bigotry, fear, anger, greed, and addiction.  Material possessions, instant gratification, and self absorption fill my mind and guide my day.   Yet, I am left hungrier for true satisfaction, true fulfillment, and farther from my real purpose as a human being on this planet.   

The bell ringer at the grocery store, and the pile of solicitations in my mailbox tempt me to “make peace” by writing a check, or putting some cash in the red kettle at the store.  But, does that make peace, or simply fuel a bureaucracy clothed in the appearance of charity and peace making?  

Some commentators urge me to buy a bigger gun and a larger ammo clip, or support arming teachers, or deploying squads of sharpshooters, in order to bring peace to the latest mass casualty crime scene, to stop random shooting sprees, to thwart the crazy actions of the angry sociopath who is looking for a newsworthy end to his troubled life.  

The cops I’ve worked with spend much of their time responding to the seemingly endless calls of domestic violence, drug abuse, child neglect, and the sad loneliness in people’s lives they try to self medicate with alcohol, drugs, and violence.  Yes, they are peacemakers, applying first aid to a troubled society we like to think is seeking peace, but so often is trapped in the cycle of pain, violence, self medication, and despair.

Adding more guns that that explosive mix is just creating more havoc, more violence.  I suppose we would become more efficient in spilling blood, and adding more fuel to the fires of anger and rage and isolation in our already self-absorbed society.  I wonder what the lessons would be that we would teach our children.  What would be our legacy to them? 

My soul calls me to reject all that.  In my time on this Earth, I’ve seen that war and violence, and anger and self gratification don’t make this world a better place.  I’ve learned that compassion and unconditional love, and being truly selfless are the beliefs and actions that grow flowers and save souls.

I can make peace in my home, creating a place of beauty, serenity, and purpose.  In order to truly do that, I need to make peace with myself, to truly connect with God, and be content with my purpose in life, my real values.  I need to realize that I am beautiful, and part of the Universe.  I need to tend to my own candlelight.

It starts with me.  And, when I am filled with Peace, then I can be a peace maker.  I can reach out into my community and be a small flame of peace and unconditional love.

I walk past the red kettle and the bell ringer, and I toss all the dunning letters into the trash.  

Instead, I visit the nearby prison, and drink coffee and play games with young men.  We play guitar and sing songs, and tell stories of our lives.  And, in our conversations, I talk about my life, and my struggles.  I talk about love and peace.  And, they do, too.  We learn from each other, and we talk about peace.  

Soon, those young men will be out of prison, making their way in this troubled world.  They will be tempted by the drugs, violence and sexual exploitation, and all the other war making forces in our culture.  They will doubt themselves, and they will struggle to find their place in all of that.  

Yet, they will have that small flame burning in their soul, the flame of self esteem, of inner peace, and universal love.  They will have our relationship, and their own nurtured peace-loving souls to guide and comfort them.  

In their new beginnings, they will have some answers and they will have the beginnings of a strong foundation in their lives.  And, when they become workers, and husbands, and fathers, they will be on the right path, and will know who they truly are, and where they are going.  

I can’t change the world today.  But, I can start with one person, and light that candle, and nourish that small, flickering flame in the dark.  That one candle lights a dark room in the depth of one’s midnight despair.  

With one candle, one can light the world.

Peace Making

Peace Making

It is a lofty goal.  Religions preach it. Politicians speechify it.  Song writers laud it.  We all like to say we are peaceful, loving people.  

And, it’s really the other guy who can’t get along, who pushes us into the argument, the fight, the war.  

“They started it,” we say, justifying our own escalation of the argument, as we stiffen our backs, and pick up the nastier word, the bigger stick.  

Our wars are longer now.  This country’s ten year war in Afghanistan barely makes the main section of the daily newspaper, and rarely hits the front page.  Our “victory” in Iraq really isn’t seen as a victory of democracy over tyranny, but rather a bad nightmare we should really rather forget.  

The latest Israeli-Palestinian rocket war is seen as inevitable and unsolvable.  And, folks quickly blame one side or the other for the terror and destruction, the deaths of families, and the unbending, inflexible positions of the major players.

Not many people see the irony in both sides justifying their geographical arguments on scriptures and theologies that also preach unconditional love and peacefulness being the true direction to humanity from an all loving God.  

And, at home,  war is being waged.  We have the highest rate of jailing our fellow citizens of any country in the world.  And, we criminalize and jail drug addicts.  Our economy continues to impoverish millions of families.  Our politics of late turn into high paid deceptive and vicious advertising and name calling, rather than looking towards solutions to difficult problems, and an expression of compassion and helping others achieve the American Dream.  

Aside from all the noise, a quiet revolution is going on.  Without fanfare, without a lot of chest thumping and back slapping, change is afoot.  

Volunteers, neighbors, students, good people from all walks of life are making a difference.  Soup kitchens and warming centers are springing up in the basements of churches.  Food banks, community gardens, and community centers enjoy quiet and energetic support.  Twelve step programs are strong and are attracting healthy members.  Prison outreach programs, local music jams, potlucks, and community thrift stores are thriving.  

We baby boomers are retiring now, in record numbers, and we are volunteering, helping out, talking with people.  We are engaged in our communities, our neighborhoods, and in our homes.   People are tending their gardens, taking up crafts, and working with others.  We teach each other new skills, and we are reaching out to others, on every level.

The grass roots in this country are healthy and strong.  Social media has expanded the front porch and the neighborhood coffee shop into a bigger, national neighborhood of old friends, old classmates, and long lost relatives.  New connections are made, and our common humanity, our common passion for connecting with others, for caring for each other, are re-weaving the social fabric.

As a country, and as a community, we are re-creating our social conversations, and deciding what topics we will take on.  Newspapers and the major television networks, and other corporate media are finding their audiences shrinking.  New books are now self-published, and marketed by word of mouth and on Facebook and blogs.  We are taking charge of what we talk about and what we learn.  

The richness of our own wisdom, our heritage, our values, and our work is now easily shared, and easily explored.  What I think and what I want to say to others now can be quickly “aired” to not just my household, not just to my buddies at the coffee shop, but to the world.  With a few keystrokes, my morning rant about one thing or another can be put out to all my friends, and, literally, to the world.  

Someone thousands of miles away can read what I think, and can find my thoughts, on their computer and their cell phone.  “Google it” is the motto of this decade, and the back fence conversations start up with a smart phone text or a reply to a Facebook posting.  We’ve become master weavers of the social fabric.  

We’ve rediscovered the value of those rich one on one conversations, the power of reaching out and simply saying, “I care about you.”  Yes, we do that electronically, but we also do that face to face, neighbor to neighbor.  This is our reality; we are rejecting the mass media view of the world, and being told what to think and what is truly important.

This morning, the cashier at Denny’s and I had a rich conversation about the real meaning of Thanksgiving and thankfulness, and the crass commercialization of Christmas.  She’s rejecting that commercial hoopla and instead, she’s gathering and distributing underwear and toys for foster kids. Her mom is mentoring those kids, filling a need in her community, changing lives.   

I’m spending time with young men at the youth prison in my town, playing guitar, being friends, hopefully showing them a more fulfilling way to live. Me buying them coffee at the canteen, just being there, and listening, is opening hearts, and changing all of us.

Yes, small steps, but in the right direction.  Together, we are an army, working for change.

Perhaps this country’s “Arab Spring” starts with those conversations at Denny’s, or engaging your neighbor in an idea to revitalize your town. It starts with each one of us, one step, and then another.

We’ve rediscovered the power of taking the initiative, of finding our voice in our community.  When I post something on Facebook, or write a rant about something on my blog, or “share” a particular article I’ve found on line, I’m really joining my neighbors on the front porch, or at the coffee shop.  

I don’t have to depend on the corporate media to set the agenda, or tell me what the real “news” is, or what to believe.  I’m my own news editor now, and I produce my own news show.  My friends and neighbors do that, too.  Our conversations, in person and on line, are abuzz with new ideas, rich discussions, and the rebuilding of our collective social consciousness.

In all that buzz, we are rediscovering the power of that one on one conversation, about caring for each other, and getting involved with each other.  That is the practice of love, love of self, love of family, love of our fellow humankind. Isn’t that the true meaning of the holidays, our true spiritual calling?

We are getting off the couch and thinking for ourselves again, and rebuilding our community, making peace.

--Neal Lemery 11/22/2012

Learning Gratitude

Learning Gratitude

I always seem to learn my lessons in the most unexpected places.

This week, I was with a number of young men who are prisoners in my town.  They have long sentences, locked up for crimes they committed when they were anywhere from twelve to seventeen years old.  Their home lives were chaos, riddled with the violence, drugs, and sexual behavior that is the seed bed for most of our society’s woes, and the root of our country’s high rate of putting people in prison.  

Much of what we might think of as “normal” just not existing in their youth, before they came here.  And, many become abandoned by their families; no one comes to visit them.  So, a few of us come, to listen, to just show up in their lives.  

Rather than really dealing with those issues, society locks these boys up, without much regard for who they really are, the prison terms computed by a chart of numbers, devoid of any sense of compassion, or rationality.  

At least we can boast that we are “tough on crime”.  And, tough on souls.  

We are, after all, the leading country in the world as far as locking up our population.  Yes, more than Russia, more than China, and other places we think are oppressive, undemocratic countries.  The prison industry is growing, and is a significant chunk of our economy, eating up more tax dollars than what we spend on schools.

The subject of gratitude came up, as we talked about the real meaning of Thanksgiving, and how that holiday came to be part of our heritage and one of our biggest holidays, full of food, family time, and, yes, expressing gratitude.  

One by one, these young men spoke humbly of the things in life they were grateful for.  The list was long, and ran deep.  People who cared about them, support for their treatment for their sexually inappropriate behavior, their attitudes about drugs, violence, manipulation of others, degrading their own self worth, their work on getting an education, and improving their lives, and their relationships with their family.  

They also spoke of being thankful for getting in contact with their heritage, and finding a place in a culture that supported their sobriety, their healthy thinking, and their hunger for healthy, balanced, and emotionally satisfying lives, lives filled with purpose and decency.  They were finding their souls, moving into manhood whole and complete, their wounds healing.  

As I sat there, I recalled listening to the radio on my drive over to the prison, the “news” filled with the latest political sex scandal, and the latest celebrity drug and alcohol crazed dysfunctional public spectacle.  I’d come from the grocery store, where piles of cases of beer are arranged in recognition of this weekend’s big college football game, just before aisles of cheap Christmas decorations and gifts.

A billboard along the highway invited me to come gamble and drink on New Year’s Eve, and the usual gaggle of misfits stood outside of the local dive bar, smoking cigarettes and dealing a little weed and heroin.  

Yet, inside this prison, these young men calmly talked about how grateful they were for their lives, their sobriety, their hard work in dealing with their pasts, and the strengths and wisdom they now had in their lives.  They were strong men, preparing themselves for going back “outside”, into our crazy, addiction tempting society.

The midday boozers and smokers outside of the bar weren’t talking much about what they were grateful for, and gratitude wasn’t the focus of the talk show radio show that came on after the “news”.   

And, apparently, Thanksgiving doesn’t do much for the retail stores.  Gratitude and thanks and personal achievement aren’t something you can wrap up in paper, next to all the glitz and sparkle.  

I listened, listened hard to those young men, realizing that I really was in class, that I was the student and they were the teachers that day.  I go there to be a giver, an offerer; my role being a mentor, a teacher, a leader, a person of wisdom.  Yet, now they were the mentors, the teachers, the wise men imparting their truth, and their knowledge, their experience.  

Wisdom and gratitude were spoken, and I was grateful I took the time to open my heart and hear the truth tellers in my life.

--Neal Lemery 11/17/2012

Reaching Into My Heart

                Reaching Into My Heart

I sometimes wander through life oblivious to the impact I have on others, and the impact they have on me.  I get caught up in my routines, and work and chores fill up my days.  I lose focus on what I am really all about and what I am here to do and to be.

A few weeks ago, I received a gift of love and thanks from a young man I’ve been spending time with.  

He’s not had it easy, and often feels his life is on hold, that he is stuck for a while, not able to move ahead.  But, the work he is doing, real soul work, is shaping and honing him into a beautiful person, filled with compassion and love.  In that, he is successful and brilliant, and wise.  

He is a student, and becoming the teacher.  I should thank him for being an inspiration to me, to being my friend, to allow me to come share time with him, and watch him grow.  He has taught me much, and he has given me much joy and satisfaction.  He’s let me sit in the front row, when he walks out on the stage of life and pours out his heart.

He’s written a song, a bit about me and what we are together, but it goes so much deeper, and wider. 

When he sings me his song, and puts to music and words, and, yes, into love, his feelings and emotions and gratitude, I am moved.  I feel loved.  I feel appreciated, recognized, validated.  But, most of all, I feel loved.

Love. That word is hard for him. It is also hard for me.  When I was a kid, I didn’t hear that word much, and I floundered around with what it meant to me, and how important it was in my life, or not.  This inner turmoil festered in me for many years.  I rejoice that the dragons and monsters my young friend has called out, named, and wrestled with.  In his journey, he is farther down that trail than most of us.  

When I hear him struggle, I hear my own struggle, my own uncertainty, my own grief for not knowing love, for questioning what life is all about, and what I here to do.  We grieve over death, and loss.  Yet, for me, the hardest grief is not knowing love.  

Being able to express love, and to fully accept the power and the satisfaction there is in life when unconditional love is a practiced value, is much of the story of my life. 

My friends’s song says you love yourself and you love me.  It brings all that love-not-spoken dark dialogue back up, again and again.  The song felt good, soothing some long time aches and pains, and holes.  When he sings, some old, musty dark holes in me get filled up, and I feel warm, complete.

I’ve had a lot of hungry young people in my life, and they all struggle with that love word.  We all do, and the search for that feeling of completeness and acceptance often takes a lifetime of tears, yearning, and struggle.  

There’s a lot of running away, in life, from love, being loved, and loving others.  We run to self medication, self deprecation, self loathing.  We push others down or away from our own needy hearts, just so we don’t have to accept love from ourselves and love from others.  

If we are loved, then we must be worthy of love.  And, that is really hard, to feel worthy of love, when those we respect and admire have told us we really aren’t worthy of love.  

I get all of that.  I understand that, and I’ve lived around that and in that.  That dilemma, that agony, that need, all of that also is in my life, and my world.

I’ve learned that love has many meanings and many dimensions.  Love is like the sparkle of a diamond, and each sparkle in the light has a different nuance, even a different meaning entirely.  

I don’t need to hear the “love” word to know that there is love.  I am old and wise enough now to just know that love is there, without calling its name.  

His song is all of that.  His song is from his heart.  And, that is the gold and the diamonds in my life, and in his life, too.  

He knows all this, and he knows it in his heart.  And, when he sings it to me, I cry, and in seeing my tears, he knows he has told me what he wants me to know.  

My friend reminds me I need to go deep inside, and call out the dragons and the monsters in my basement, to rummage around the dark forces in my life, and find my own emotions and strengths. In that tough work, I rediscover the treasures of unconditional love.

I hope he realizes that his words, his music, his expression, and his acceptance and his savoring of what he does in all that, is not only a gift, but it is a treasure that he already knows that he has.  In that, he is blessed.  

When you can accept love and when you can give love, when you can share your real loving self, in all its facets, you are truly blessed. 

--- Neal Lemery 11/10/2012

Candlelight: A Story Teller Visits the Youth Prison

Candlelight: A Story Teller Visits the Youth Prison

We gather in a circle, to hear from the story teller who has quietly appeared among us.  His quiet presence is greeted with respect; admiration for his time with us six months ago, his quiet message of hope, and healing, and his wisdom.

We share an opening prayer, a sense of being at peace with the universe, and with our souls.  And, a sense of coming together.

Each of us is invited to tell our names, where we had come from, and a bit about our own journeys.  All of our experiences, all of who we were, and are, and are becoming, are welcomed into this circle.   The chaos of our lives, our pain, our joys, are all welcomed and accepted, without limits.

In this prison, there are many stories of tragedy and pain, loss and suffering.  Some of those experiences are given voice today, in this circle, and are accepted and acknowledged.  There is no blame, no judgement today; only acceptance and compassion.  And, in the telling, there is healing, perhaps a sense of understanding and forgiveness.  

In my community, there are many prisons.  But, when I come here, I can see the physical fences, and the locked doors.  At least when I come here, the walls and the barriers to freedom are obvious.   For so many away from here, their walls and locks take other forms, and may not even be known to those who are locked away by the prisons in their lives.  

Some of the young men offer a hint of the pain in their lives, the violence, the drugs, the abandonment and anger; the absence of community.   Others nod in agreement; such pain is so common in this place of acknowledgement and healing.  They are here to change.  And in that work, they find direction and hope.  They do this together, united for a common purpose.  In this place, being aware of the possibility for change, for unconditional love, is part of the air they breathe.  

The storyteller’s visit is part of that change, that opening of doors to understanding, to acceptance, to personal salvation and love.  

Several young men offer their gifts of song, opening their hearts, and touching our lives with the beauty of the moment and their own journeys.

Others offer a wooden staff to the leader of the drumming circles here. She comes here and leads us in prayer and song, giving the young men, and me, her unconditional love and guidance through troubled seas.  The staff, adorned with beads, and feathers, and other symbols of hope and love, is a gift back to her of what she has given here. Their decorations and gifts and blessing of the staff fills the room with that sense of community.  We pass the staff around the circle, each of us offering a blessing, a wish, an acknowledgement of the power of others to change our lives.  The power of that sharing and healing fills all of our hearts with love.

The story teller told us of his life, and his sister’s recent death.  He spoke of the tragedies in her life, and how, through all the pain and loss, she still loved people unconditionally.  His loss and his pain are mirrored in the faces of the young men gathered in the circle.  A sense of knowing that pain, and compassion for others grows in the room.  This place is safe now, a sacred place for being in that pain, and having our own sparks of humanity accepted.  

Unconditional love is his message today.  In his native stories and tales, in his words about his own life, the message is repeated.  

In our lives, and our experiences, and in our pain and sufferings, we are preparing ourselves for the work ahead.  There will be times when our presence, and our unconditional love for others, will change lives.  What we are going through now is merely preparation for the gift giving we will do in the future.

One young man offers a song in memory of the storyteller’s sister, filling us all with sadness and hope and a bit of that unconditional love.  

Others give voice to their struggles, their anger, their work to become healthy men.  

The storyteller leads us in a dance around the circle, holding hands, all moving to a drum beat, singing an ancient, timeless song.  In movement, we become one; there are no leaders and no followers.  We became community, accepting and united.  

Stories are told, letting us nod and laugh together, hearing his tales, and joining together in the acknowledgment of his story.   His work brings us together, to a feeling of being one, of each of us having value, of being accepted for who we are, right now.  And, again, judgement is suspended. Unconditional love lights up the room.

Telling our stories is what we need to do in our lives.  In our stories, and in the stories of others, we find acceptance, and we find community.  As we drum together, sing together, and listen to our stories, we come together.  We are one.  

In my heart, I touch my own pain, my own losses, my own doubts and fears.  The storyteller’s songs of love and acceptance, and of his own pain and his own journey through life brings me renewal.   That spark of humanity, of the power and force of love as a healer, as a single candle that can light the entire room, is fed by his quiet presence in our lives.  

In all of our eyes today, I see acceptance, reconciliation, forgiveness, and unity in all of what we experience in our humanity.  We become a stronger community, telling our stories, finding acceptance and hope.

--Neal Lemery 11/4/2012

Religion and Faith

“Religion, it must be understood, is not faith.  Religion is the story of faith.  It is an institutionalized system of symbols and metaphors (read rituals and myths) that provides a common language with a community of faith can share with each other their numinous encounter with the Divine Presence.  Religion is concerned not with genuine history, but with sacred history, which does not course through time like a river.  Rather, sacred history is like a hallowed tree whose roots dig deep into primordial time and whose branches weave in and out of genuine history with little concern for the boundaries of space and time.  Indeed, it is precisely at those moments when sacred and genuine history collide that religions are born.  The clash of monotheisms occur when faith, which is mysterious and ineffable and which eschews all catagorizations, becomes entangled in the gnarled branches of religion.”

---Azlan, Reza No god but God: the Origins, Evolution, and Future of Islam, p. xxv (prologue)(Random House Trade Paperback, 2005).