My brown, fur ball doggy friend. He’s a Golden Doodle, and he’s curled in a ball on my lap.
This weekend, I had the pleasure of doggy-sitting for a good friend of mine. This pup is truly one of the sweetest dogs I know. He is cuddly, kind-tempered, and playful. I really enjoyed having him here. He loved to play chase inside the house and in the snow; most of all, he loved moving himself right over to my lap so he could curl himself up in a little fur ball.
I grew up with a dog, but I haven’t had one in adulthood. My pup friend was nice addition for a few days. One of the things I noticed is how much he notices. He followed me around everywhere from room to room. He was deeply attuned to what I was doing, nearly at all times.
He was just totally attentive. Maybe he’d doze off, but as soon as I moved a leg on the couch, he was curious to pay attention to me again.
It makes me wonder, to what and to whom am I attuned?
Image Description: A Ben Montero cartoon, which can be found here. 4 slides: This yellow bird really loves treats! “Do we get treats?” he asks, as a newborn, as a kiddo walking into school for the first time, on the first day on the job and… well, popping out of the casket.
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Image Description: Three hearts are carved out of wood and hanging by three wires. One is red, one is orange, and one is green.
Over the last few weeks, on three occasions, I have just happened to spot something really wonderful. While scrolling through social media, I’ve encountered three examples of connections that are very meaningful to me.
Specifically, I’ve spotted moments when my mentors have reached out intentionally to people I’ve mentored — asking how their week is going, expressing a desire to get coffee, and donating to their GoFundMe fundraiser. I’ve introduced these people to each other. They don’t live in the same places, but they are connected.
And I realize that we’re all a part of a generational structure of sorts, both by age and by mentoring. There’s a big sense of family in all of it.
Image Description: Two cupped hands meet together to form the shape of a heart. The person is wearing a sweater with blue sleeves. In the foreground at the bottom left, there are large rocks, forming a cliff. In the distance are blue water and mountains.
Every body is a worthy-of-care body.
Every body is a worthy-of-resources body.
Every body is a worthy-of-taking-up-space body.
Every body is a worthy-of-dignity body.
Every body is a worthy-of-connection body.
Every body is a worthy-of-self-expression body.
Every body is a worthy-of-advocacy body.
Every body is a worthy-of-self-determination body.
Image Description: A close-up of two hands cupped together, holding a large number of strawberries. Public domain image.
A story from Zen Buddhism:
A man was walking across a field when he saw a tiger. Fearing for his life, the man fled, but the tiger gave chase. The man reached the edge of a cliff, and just as he thought the tiger would get him, he spotted a vine growing over the edge of the cliff. Grabbing on to it, he swung himself over the edge to safety.
The tiger came to the edge and snarled at him from above. While precariously perched like this, the man saw another tiger growling at him from below. Trembling, he held on to the thin vine that was keeping him from being dinner for the tigers. What could be worse than this, he wondered.
Just then, two mice scampered out and began gnawing at the vine. As they chewed and the man pondered over his fate, he saw a juicy, red strawberry on a ledge next to him. Grasping the vine with one hand, he plucked the strawberry with the other. Ah, how sweet it tasted!
If you Google information about this story, you will quickly learn that there is debate about its meaning. Some hold the interpretation that this story is about living in the present moment and enjoying pleasure right in front of us, even in times of trial. Others, however, say that this a misunderstanding; the story is about the foolishness of getting distracted by pleasure when we have the occasion to remove ourselves from a perilous situation.
With both interpretations, we choose our life.
I will leave the interpretations to communities of Zen Buddhists, as it is their story, and they know it best.
But lately, here is something I’ve been thinking about…
There are times when loss is so great or stress is so high that we are plunged into present moment living because that feels like only way to make it — one day at a time, one moment at a time, one feeling at a time. But as we do this… we discover that present moment living is also the best way to live. It’s freeing and filling.
And
There are times when loss is so great or stress is so high that we are plunged into choosing our life in order to survive — our bodies, our in-the-moment daily needs, our rhythms, our memories, our values, our loves, and our communities. And as we do this… we often discover that there are still so many gifts in our lives. There are times when we say yes to the broad fullness of it.
With both of these, we choose our life. And that invitation is always there.
Image Description: A Torah scroll unrolled. Public domain image.
“Would you like to hold it?” he asked me.
I was deeply honored by the question but also concerned about dropping it or making ignorant missteps, so I declined. I did smile though, and the Torah scroll was handed over to another person for additional whirling and merriment.
More than a decade ago, I was a Presbyterian seminary student, and I was grateful to visit a Conservative Jewish synagogue with members of my class. We were present for Simchat Torah, a Jewish holiday that marks the end of a cycle of public Torah readings and a new beginning for the next cycle. On this night, the Torah scrolls of the ark are removed, and the community dances with them.
I knew I was going to experience a meaningful interfaith encounter; I had no idea I was going to cut a rug with Torah scrolls. And cut a rug we did!
This celebration was joyous and gleeful, and it lasted for a couple of hours. It was an meaningful experience, and along with my classmates, I was grateful to be welcomed into the community holiday. It was the kind experience you cannot quite anticipate as a guest. You have to be present with it as it unfolds, finding yourself within a moment in the midst of community.
The dancing was meaningful and memorable, but right alongside it, there was an another moment when I suddenly found myself within a community experience I could not have anticipated. The Rabbi invited everyone to come close together, and members of the synagogue unrolled the Torah scroll so that it encircled the people. We were inside the text, in a sense. Then the Rabbi traveled around that circle of text and shared its stories as the larger, unfolding story of the people. He said things like,
“This is when we were created, along with the entire world.”
“This is when we were liberated from slavery in Egypt.”
“This is when we received the law.”
This is when we…
We stood there, peopled.
And I was so drawn to that sense of being gathered together, encircled by story and peopled together by a shared story.
It was the kind experience you cannot quite anticipate as a guest — the kind of experience when you find yourself suddenly peopled too.
There are many ways to say, ‘I love you’ There are many ways to say, ‘I care about you’ Many ways, many ways Many ways to say, ‘I love you’
There are many ways to say, ‘I love you’ Just by being there when things are sad and scary Just by being there, being there Being there to say, ‘I love you’
Cleaning up a room can say, ‘I love you’ Hanging up a coat before you’re asked to do it Drawing special pictures for the holidays And making plays
You’ll find many ways to say, ‘I love you’ You’ll find many ways to understand what love is Many ways, many ways Many ways to say, ‘I love you’
This song has been an earworm in my head lately. It’s a nice reminder.
The song and the connection between Mr. Rogers and Officer Clemmons follows the intro music. This scene was also planned deliberately as an act of anti-racism. This is a lovely moment:
Crows flying through a cloudy morning sky. Photo, Renee Roederer.
While walking around, I watched the crows embark from their nightly roost. I enjoyed how they took up the whole space of the sky. There were so many of them, cawing, leaving collectively and moving collectively to wherever they were going.
I immediately thought of this wonderful quote from adrienne maree brown, the author of Emergent Strategy, a phenomenal, imaginative book about collective change. On page 13, she writes,
“There are examples of emergence everywhere.
“Birds don’t make a plan to migrate, raising resources to fund their way, packing for scarce times, mapping out their pit stops. They feel a call in their bodies that they must go, and they follow it, responding to each other, each bringing their adaptations.
“There is an art to flocking: staying separate enough not to crowd each other, aligned enough to maintain a shared direction, and cohesive enough to always move towards each other. (Responding to destiny together). Destiny is a calling that creates a beautify journey.
“Emergence is beyond what the sum of its parts could even imagine.
“A group of caterpillars or nymphs might not see flight in their future, but it’s inevitable.
“It’s destiny.”
As I continued to walk outside, I saw cars moving around town, driven by their people, and I wondered, do we feel connected to one another? I saw students walking around, listening to music on their own phones as I also do so often, and I wondered, do we feel connected to one another?
I thought about several community efforts to keep people safe in winter weather. Some truly work to survive in weather like this. I wonder, do we feel connected to one another?
It’s good to keep pondering and strengthening those connections. The crows were a good reminder.
Image Description:Fred Rogers sitting in the house set of Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood. He’s wearing a red, zip down sweater and a tie.
You make each day a special day. You know how, by just your being you. There’s only one person in this whole world like you.
He said this daily with emphasis and intention. Occasionally, he said it with playfulness. He always meant it, and young children across the United States internalized this message inside themselves. They came to believe it. Very likely, many came to memorize it, and in anticipation, they said it along with him, either aloud or inside their own minds.
You make each day a special day. You know how, by just your being you. There’s only one person in this whole world like you.
This was a litany of sorts. A daily recitation.
We might also call it liturgy.
Liturgy literally means, “Work of the people” — sacred words voiced, shared, and enacted. Perhaps in these days, we need to voice, share, and enact the convictions behind this daily statement.
You make each day a special day. You know how, by just your being you. There’s only one person in this whole world like you.
And maybe part of our work as a people is to internalize these words inside ourselves as well.
After all, I notice one intriguing word in this daily liturgy. It’s the word your. Fred Rogers could have easily said, “You make each day special. You know how, by just being you.” But instead, he added the word your. “You know how, by just your being you.” His phrasing is actually a bit more clunky than it has to be.
But it’s also important. We are invited to know our specialness, worth, and value as ours. We are encouraged to be in relationship with ourselves — “being you” — knowing that even in our days of doubt, we are worth loving. We can live in conversation with this truth, recognizing when we are living in alignment with its values and when we have temporarily acted outside of them. We can always return.
And this isn’t ego, a way of setting ourselves against others or above others. It is a truth we live in relationship with others. So we hear and speak it again in relationship:
You make each day a special day. You know how, by just your being you. There’s only one person in this whole world like you.
