Return from Cursillo

http://www.olycursillo.org/

This is the link to find more information about the 3-day weekend event I attended recently. I'm not going to go all born-again new agey, but there are significant differences in place since I returned. The world is more vibrant, people are craving connection, songs on the radio are prayers if you listen hard enough and the face of God is everywhere - in a stellar jay on the deck rail, in the cashier at Safeway, in the woman next to you at the doctor's office and in your own family, spouse, children - yes, really, look hard...

Overall, on the weekend there were parts I really got into and parts I was not so hot about. Singing songs of praise, for someone who cannot hold a tune in a bucket - is moderately torturous; but having the opportunity to sing as a group at a new child's baptism was priceless. Having deep philosophical discussions like we used to have in college (without having to throw people in the showers to sober up) was something I had been missing for years. We just don't get that opportunity as women very often. The first night we were in a devotion of silence (me, silent for 12 hours...) and it was an adjustment. As I lay in bed the first night thinking "what am I supposed to get out of all this?" The message I got LOUD and CLEAR was "BE here, that's all." That I can do as I have no car, no wallet, no cell phone, and I'm in Olympia where I know no one.

The next morning we were awakened at 0 dark 30 and invited to break our silence after morning prayer and Eucharist. If we dressed quickly we were allowed to have tea or coffee in the sanctuary, so God and I had peppermint tea together. This could be the start of a new habit. But the morning prayer and silence has got to go, I'd not make a good Carmelite nun. We won't even get into the celibacy, obedience or poverty. We celebrated the Eucharist and were released from our silence! As one woman in the pew ahead of me said, "Oh good, I was going crazy with my own thoughts." Many of us were thinking the same thing. Our kitchen crew put on quite a spread from mini quiches to scones to oatmeal, yogurt, fruit and juices as well as the welcome coffee! We had the opportunity to get to know our table mates. I have always found this difficult, until I spied one woman's opal ring - "What a beautiful ring. Is there a story behind it?" became my conversation opener for the rest of the weekend.

We broke out into table groups by assignment and discussed many topics over the next two days about talks presented by persons among us on piety, prayer, faith, grace, sacraments, etc. After some discussions, we were encouraged to come up with a drawing that illustrated our concepts gathered from the talk and discussion. For example, after the talk about study we were asked to create a license plate to illustrate the talking points. Our group came up with PAGEMS - digging for gems among the pages of the Bible. We had a gifted artist at our table who came with her own materials and abilities we used freely - some of us are conceptualists and others can actually draw! We were the table of St. Bega a Celtic saint who fled to Northumberland to escape an arranged marriage and lived out her life in pious acts. Some days that idea would be appealing.

We had lunch breaks to socialize and a long break in the afternoon I used to walk with some of the women one-to-one and there were several 2x4 between the eyes moment when something would just pop into my head without conscious thought about it. I haven't yet processed all of them and need to do that before I can put them into words.

The biggest nugget I received from the weekend is overwhelming sense of being loved and cared for by the women on the team and by God. The second was that I don't have to do everything - I need to find what fits my ideal and pare away things that I have no time talent or passion for. That is going to be hard to make happen, but I can see that in order to keep a reserve for the things I want to do, it is necessary.

GRACE, Peace and Blessings! ;-P
Michelle

Autumn vs. Fall

When it comes to fall, I prefer the word autumn. It rolls around the palate like a smoky brandy, coaxing images of vibrant scarlet, merlot, burgundy and an occasional golden chardonnay array of leaves emerging when the sugar supplies are compromised by cold temperatures. The changing colors dangle like earrings from the branches of free-formed sculptures briefly until their connection to the stem is severed by a crisp overnight chill and they twirl and drift to the forest floor below. Leaving behind striking postures of twigs, branches, blight, knots, abandoned bird nests that give each tree structure, feature and often if viewed long enough, a face.

Dropped leaves provide the smell of autumn – overripe blackberry, mingled with ashy decomposing loamy leaves, the minty crispness of the air and faint hints of burning wood from fireplaces inhaled during lingering walks in the woods to view nature’s spectacle. The blanket of fallen leaves give nutrients for the hibernating plants below and the sound of walking through fallen leaves evokes a sense of childish wonder, some regret that summer has passed, and anticipation of the celebration of holidays that center our yearly traditions.

Snuggling deep into polar fleece, lovingly knit keepsake wool, cozy knit sweaters to ward off the chill that pinks cheeks and cracks the delicate skin of lips, the view is breath-taking. The final reaches of sunlight arrive before we think they should in time dissolving into a delightful palette of changing sunset hues – lavender, fuschia, rose, periwinkle, hyacinth, daffodil – reminders of the spring buds seen so briefly. As time evolves to sneak us into waking earlier and spending less time hibernating comfortably, as minds and bodies are drawn against nature.

Fall by comparison is, and always will be, a verb of varying capacities. Fall is not fallen into; it is jumped into with both feet, as jumping into a pile of raked leaves. We fall in love, fall off a swing, fall down stairs or off the wagon. Fall is never the gentle description of some passing without consequence. Fall is dramatic and life-changing and full of power and takes time from which to recover. Fall is a childish word used in essays and composition and poetics in the classroom because it breeds action and thought and memory. After all, what rhymes with autumn?

2009MDM 10-8

Pumpkin Bread recipe

This may be a record of three entries in one week. I feel like such an over-achiever, but the bloom will fade once I'm back on normal schedule next week, so don't get too used to it. My cousin Janelle sends me recipes from time to time and this arrived on 10/01 and was just beggin to be baked yesterday. It's going to be delivered to 4 pals today because if I eat it all myself, I'll be back in the bad graces of my doc. Anyway, the recipe is here in it's entirety, I noted the tweaks I made in it, and it's very moist and good with tea on dreary mornings.

Coconut Pumpkin Nut Bread
Ingredients:
3.5 C all-pupose flour
2 C packed dk brown sugar
2/3 C white sugar
1 (15 oz) can pumpkin puree
1 C veg oil (or I substitute 1/2 c. applesauce and 1/2 c. oil)
2/3 c. coconut milk (in the ethnic aisle of most grocery stores)
2 t. baking soda
1 t. salt
1 t. ground nutmeg
1.5 t ground cinnamon
2/3 c unsweetened flaked coconut (I substituted sunflower seeds and pumpkin seeds)
1 cup chopped walnuts

*I added 1/4 c. ground flaxseed to flour

Heat oven to 350. Grease and flour 2 loaf pans. Combine all ingredients but coconut and walnuts until well blended. Fold in coconut and walnuts. Pour into prepared pans. Bake for 1 hour and 15 mins using toothpick test to desired doneness. Remove from oven and cover tightly with foil and allow to steam 10-15 minutes. Remove foil and cool on baking rack. Fabulous with peanut butter and a cup of tea! ;-P

Peace and Blessings!
Michelle ;-P

Rambo = Superman?

Had my birthday yesterday and my in-laws' check brought a manicure and pedicure into my near future. In south King County, the proprietors are mostly SE Asian at all the local nail salons. I popped into one near our Lowe's thinking "how much business would be attracted here for this service?" I can't see my local contractor coming in for a nail fill and polish change, eyebrow wax or "manscaping", but I digress...

We got into the business of my raggedy toes and the tech asked if I wanted to watch a movie. I asked her which of the movies was her favorite and she said "RAMBO." I shrugged, never seen it, heard it was really violent and asked her "Are you a Stallone fan?" She replied, "It has great picture of Viet Nam and surrounding lands." Cinematography? OK, I'm in. She started the movie and yes, it is horrifically violent. Since we were the only two people in the salon, I asked her if the depiction of the actions of the Viet Cong army was accurate as far as she knew. she nodded and said "I saw it as a child. We hid in rice paddies, the jungle, tunnels and caves."

At that point, I ventured that I was sure we had made munerous mistakes and that I didn't think we were right in most military decisions. We delved into the most fascinating conversation about politics, American policy in Viet Nam and the way the Vietnamese see the Rambo character similar to our concept of the hero in a Western or Superman. It is depicted as they WISH it would have turned out - with "an army of one" of the rescuers staying after his tour was over to disseminate who was telling the truth, who was helping the Vietnamese and who was blatantly lying to the world powers and wreaking vengeance on the perps. I'm sure there were those that did and were forsaken by their government and considered lost in more ways than one by their families.

The people were never sure of the intention of Americans they encountered because some had been ambushed by VC, were on drugs, mentally war-shocked or just depraved. When there was a humanitarian or relief effort troop to come through, no one was sure they could be trusted. There was no one to ask for help and no one to rescue the civilians living in constant fear, mistrust and despair.

In the course of our discussion we were joined by a woman from Thailand and one from Laos and their added perspectives were wholly enlightening. When I shared the ages of my boys 11 and 14, all three women said they would have been taken from us and forced into military service or killed, if they resisted or ran away. Kids were often sent first into mine fields to trigger the claymores set by other troops. I would have been killed, violated or pressed into service in supporting the armies. The Vietnamese/Laotian family fled into Laos with the clothes on their back and all the money they had in the world and started over with nothing after paying bribes to stay, often over and over to the same people/warlords/gangs. The Thai lost contact with many family members and has never heard from them again - presumed dead.

I need to explore this subject further, I'm fascinated with the exchange we had. I've always felt as an outsider in nail salons, I felt like we were having a UN discussion. Our history books seem to have been edited by military retirees. I went in for spiffy nails and emerged with lots to think about. When I shared with the boys later, their eyes widened at what their roles would have been. Once again, I come to realize we are blessed at the time and place of our birth.
PEACE and Blessings!
Michelle ;-P