activism

Is Love Really the Answer?

/ Beth Weaver-Kreider / 1 Comment

Perhaps you’ve been reading my posts since I began writing this blog. In that case, you may be wondering if my title suggests that I am having an existential crisis, wondering if I think I need to change my essential character in order to fight the powers that be. The answer is probably a bit of yes and no. I hope that in times of great political and social upheaval we all do the powerful soul-work of existential renovation, exploring whether our inner lives have what it takes to meet the challenges of the times. Are my core values and principles strong enough to carry me into these perilous days with courage and conviction to stand up to the soul-rending cruelty of the powermongers?

Yes, at some level, I have not changed my basic orientation–that Love is the answer, that the universe is held together by Love, that we are born of Love and borne on the wings of Love. I believe with Rhiannon Giddens that our work is to change the song of hate into a song of Love.

And. . . And I also find myself more frequently using the martial language I have long eschewed as I look at the work ahead of us. I will unapologetically speak of doing battle with hatred, of being a warrior for justice and due process and human rights. Of fighting for those who have no one to fight for them.

This feels a little too close to the Spiritual Warfare stuff I long ago turned my back on from those evangelical youth conferences of my teenaged years, so I step gingerly on this ground. Still, I feel like we are battling forces of cruelty and greed, power and hatred–psychopathic forces that have taken root in certain segments of our culture (perhaps not ironically in that very evangelical setting where I first heard the words Spiritual Warfare). So yes, these days my prayer to the Mother is that I may be one of the Luminous Warriors, courageous and confident and ready to step in and harbor those who are vulnerable to these waves of hatred and cruelty, to fight for their safety and protection with whatever means are given to me.

Don’t worry. I’m not going to start punching Nazis. But I might not be actively judging a new acquaintance who apparently did so. I’m not ready to start fire-bombing Teslas, but something in me might celebrate when I read of the ones who do. I’m not getting a gun. I’m not plotting violence. But I am also not going to sit quietly and say that Love is the Answer without putting my heart and my head and my hands and feet into the struggle to make it so.

Some people I know cringe at the words nonresistance and pacifism which have long been part of my identity, and rightly so–under certain definitions. My approach to Love as the Answer is akin to my understanding of the deep meaning of these words: Nonresistance is about actively bringing our moral truth to bear on the situation, not becoming like the hatemongers in a tit-for-tat exchange, but standing strong on the high ground, courageously ready to stand in the gap and be a witness and an example. Pacifism, likewise, is a commitment to being Present in the conflict, not turning to violence, but not cringing away either. My Anabaptist Ancestors called this a Third Way. I want to take that third path, neither reacting in violence nor reacting in fear, but intentionally bringing my Presence to the conflict.

I also believe that there are people out there who are beginning to ask questions, people who may have always been close to the fence, who are wondering how they ever got into the position where they’re defending Nazis, who are beginning to see with a little more nuance and compassion, and who need us to come at them with curiosity and questions and understanding rather than judgement and pitchforks. It’s not just Us and Them, but also the Ones Between, who may need to know it’s safe to leap the fence. How can I bring my soul force, my Love, to conversations with such people when I am burning with rage at the willingness they had to ignore the racism and homophobia and misogyny and colonialism and imperialism and authoritarianism. . .?

Yes, my MO will always be Love. It would feel like spiritual amputation to try to shift that as my grounding. And also, I need to train and strengthen my soul force, my moral force, my love force, my Mama Bear force, and get out into the fray in whatever way I am personally able to do that.

So if what you do is pray, pray fiercely and with Love. If what you do is fight, fight with honor and with Love. If what you do is stand up and speak out, do so with courage, with fervor, with fortitude, grounded in Love. If what you do is support others, bring your full Loving Presence to the act.

No, I’m not going to call for a hopeful loving that believes that if we love hard enough, the cruel people will simply change their hearts. I will call on the Lady to change their hearts, to break them utterly open with compassion. And also, I will take Love to the fight. Too many people are losing their freedom and their livelihoods and their lives for me to sit quietly by, muttering sweet words. I want to call us to a fierce and fearsome Love that puts its boots on, stands in the square, raises its voice (and probably its fist), and says, “Not on my watch!”

Integrating

/ Beth Weaver-Kreider / Leave a comment
View of Engitati Hill, the Round Table Hill, in the Ngorongoro Crater.

A week ago, I returned from a trip to the town of my early childhood–Shirati, Tanzania–and several days in game parks. One of my words for the trip, and for the current phase of my life, is INTEGRATION.

How do I integrate the layers of my life: the past, present, future selves?
How do I integrate the sense of myself in a safe and loving childhood in a beautiful and tender community, with the awareness of how mission and religion has been an agent of colonialism in the world?
How do I integrate my deep connection to the Jesus story with my adoration of his mother, with my universalism and witchiness?
How do I integrate the activism and the contemplation, the magic and the prayer, the wildness of spirit with the deepening wisdom of middle age?

Within a day of our return, I received word that a beloved friend, a former student, had died. Now, how to integrate the bliss of my Tanzania Trip with the deep welling grief of losing someone I loved and admired? How to integrate my own grief with that of the many circles of community who loved him?

I’ve been going back through some of our text and message threads to find the poems and songs and kind thoughts Ash sent me over the years, revisiting some of the writings we shared with each other, the ideas we hatched, integrating those with the memories people have been posting to his Facebook page.

Before I went to Tanzania, I created a journal for the trip, an altered book made from an old copy of Birds of East Africa. True to Bethie form, I ended up taking notes not only in the journal, but in two of the Poetry journals I had taken along, and in the Notes app on my phone. This week, I hope to spend my Spring Break making sense of the various notes, sorting through photos, and integrating the sense experience with memories and scraps of poetry that have been filtering through. Somehow even the fact that I must weave together the various threads of my note-taking feels like part of the bigger process of sorting and integrating joy and grief and memory.

Ash was one of the editors of the literary magazine I directed at the high school where I used to teach. The magazine’s symbol was the flamingo, and I had promised Ash I would send him pictures of flamingos when I returned. I never had the chance. Here, Ash, are some flamingo pictures for you.

Check in on your beloveds. Remind them they are loved. And when hope seems far away, hold on for one more day. The morning, as they say, is wiser than the evening.

Gratitude List:
1. The beautiful journey. Return, belonging, joy, wildness, friendship, beauty
2. The privilege of knowing Ashton Clatterbuck, whose life touched so many, whose activism will continue to inspire and light the way, whose sense of justice will push me to stand up and speak out, whose courage knew no bounds
3. The birds of Goldfinch Farm and Skunk Hollow
4. The house lions: Erebus, Thor, and Sachs
5. The process of integrating heart and mind, memory and sense, grief and bliss, dream and reality
May we walk in Beauty!

“Our capacity to create must overwhelm their capacity to destroy.” —Occupy Movement Quote

“Wrong will be right, when Aslan comes in sight,
At the sound of his roar, sorrows will be no more,
When he bares his teeth, winter meets its death,
And when he shakes his mane, we shall have spring again.”
—C.S. Lewis, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe

“At times the world may seem an unfriendly and sinister place, but believe that there is much more good in it than bad. All you have to do is look hard enough. and what might seem to be a series of unfortunate events may in fact be the first steps of a journey. ” —Lemony Snicket

“Scared is what you’re feeling. Brave is what you’re doing.” —Emma Donoghue

“Confront the dark parts of yourself, and work to banish them with illumination and forgiveness. Your willingness to wrestle with your demons will cause your angels to sing.” —August Wilson

“Don’t be satisfied with stories, how things have gone with others. Unfold your own myth.” —Rumi

“You cannot swim for new horizons until you have courage to lose sight of the shore.” —William Faulkner

“For one human being to love another is the most difficult task, the ultimate, the last test and proof. It’s the work for which all other work is mere preparation.” —Rainer Maria Rilke

Teilhard de Chardin said: “Some day after we have mastered the winds, the waves and gravity, we will harness for God the energies of love; and then for a second time in the history of the world, humans will have discovered fire.”

Emma Goldman: “The most vital right is the right to love and be loved.”

“Everything I understand, I understand only because I love.” —Leo Tolstoy

“If you do not love too much, you do not love enough.” —Blaise Pascal

“Who I was meant to be was a breaker of some stories and a maker of others.” —Rebecca Solnit

“You are not required to set yourself on fire in order to keep other people warm.” —Anonymous

“The job — as well as the plight, and the unexpected joy — of the artist is to embrace uncertainty, to be sharpened and honed by it.” —Dani Shapiro

“Wholeness does not mean perfection: it means embracing brokenness as an integral part of life.” —Parker Palmer

“For education among all kinds of [people] always has had, and always will have, an element of danger and revolution, of dissatisfaction and discontent.” ―W.E.B DuBois

“The phoenix must burn to emerge.” —Janet Fitch

“If you’re not prepared to be wrong, you’ll never come up with anything original.” —Ken Robinson

“When you take risks you learn that there will be times when you succeed and there will be times when you fail, and both are equally important.” —Ellen DeGeneres

“I have not failed. I’ve just found 10,000 ways that won’t work.” —Thomas A. Edison

“Geometry draws the soul towards truth.” —Plato

“In which of the fairy tales does this wandering stream appear? Perhaps a golden trout swims through here every morning at dawn, or the three riders who pass Baba Yaga’s courtyard stop here to water their horses. A frog beneath that brightest mossy rock awaits your kiss. Just beyond your vision, through those trees, is a little cottage made of gingerbread and candy. An old man appears each day at dusk to sit on the tallest rock and ask you for a favor when you approach the stream for a drink.” –Beth Weaver-Kreider

Of Love
by Beth Weaver-Kreider
(after Mary Oliver)

It’s a process repeated everywhere you look:
the way the beech tree catches and holds the wind in her hair,
the way the meadow grasses gather around the tentative feet of the fox,
the way the hands of the clay hold and guide the flow of waters.

What is attention, but a kind of loving?
Living in awareness is a constant tumble into loves.
The way your eyes twinkle when you tell a story.
The way your listening hands reach outward.
The way a new thought is born in your eyes.
The hearty abandon of your laughter,
the caress of your voice,
the shine that surrounds you.

Hermit

/ Beth Weaver-Kreider / 2 Comments
The Hermit, from The Brightwing Tarot by Beth Weaver-Kreider and AI.

If you’re just joining me in these recent posts, I am taking a trip through the Fool’s Quest, the soulpath laid out in the stages of the Major Arcana of the tarot cards. I have been using the tarot as a tool for deep inner understanding and spiritual growth and development since 1992, and I thought it was time to do a public exploration of some of the ways in which this tool has helped me to learn more about myself and my connection to others and to the Holy One.

The way out is the way in.

Recently, I have begun praying the rosary. I’m in the middle of a 54-day novena, praying along with a group of others for our heart’s desire. I’ve been praying that I may live wildly and freely, unbound by others’ expectations and boxes. I can feel this prayer working and growing within me every day. The saint that we’ve been focusing on during this novena is St. Thecla, who listened to the apostle Paul and herself became an evangelist. Her story is told in the Apocryphal Acts of Paul and Thecla. Thecla was captivated by Paul’s preaching, particularly with his ideas of celibacy, which seemed to offer her freedom from an arranged marriage and the Roman ideas of respectability proscribed to young women of her day. Instead of being caged within her proscribed gender role, Thecla became a wandering preacher, wearing men’s clothes, and living on her own terms.

I’ve been thinking about St. Thecla quite a bit lately as I have been considering the tarot. The eighth card in the Major Arcana is Strength, which traditionally features a young woman closing the mouth of a lion. In St. Thecla’s story, when she refused the advances of a prince of the city, she was thrown to the lions, but they would not harm her, and one female lion actually protected her from the others. Thecla, like Strength, is portrayed in the company of lions, not dominating them, but quietly present with them.

Later in her life, having survived several attempts by powerful people to have her put to death, she withdrew from human society and lived in a desert cave, as many of the church’s early mothers and fathers did, where she ministered to people who came to visit her, and performed many miracles of healing.

So today’s Tarot character, the Hermit, is also reminiscent of St. Thecla. The Hermit withdraws from the hustle and bustle of society in order to focus and think, to pray and contemplate, to do inner work.

The way out, they say, is the way in.

The Hermit is a special kind of activist, an inner activist, who anchors and focuses the work that must be done through prayer, contemplation, generating healing energy, developing wisdom–not hoarding it. The Fool comes to the Hermit in the wilderness to learn to anchor and channel energy, to balance outward movement with inward contemplation. The Hermit is always portrayed carrying the light of their own inner wisdom in the wilderness. The Fool comes to the Hermit and learns to find the fount of Wisdom within.

One of the lessons I still carry from my college days was one a group of our professors worked hard to help us explore: that the work of the activist to create social justice must be balanced with inner work. Contemplation feeds action. Action enriches contemplation.

If you’re a Hermit, don’t give into feelings of shame that you aren’t doing more active work in the world. Do the work you’re called to do. Anchor energies. Pray. Find wisdom. Welcome the seekers. Be a refreshing fountain where your beloveds who are at the front lines of activism may come and receive your healing calm and wisdom.

Gratitude List:
1. Hummingbird
2. Holiness everywhere. In the Aenid of Virgil is the phrase: Incessu patuit dea. The Goddess is revealed as she passes. Everywhere you turn, She is there.
3. Wide and welcoming tables, and the people who work to create them.
4. My colleagues are so incredibly supportive and welcoming.
5. Cats
May we walk in Beauty!

“What is necessary, after all, is only this: solitude, vast inner solitude. To walk inside yourself and meet no one for hours—that is what you must be able to attain.”
―Rainer Maria Rilke

“Hope is a renewable option:
If you run out of it at the end of the day, you get to start over in the morning.” ―Barbara Kingsolver

“There is a voice that doesn’t use words.
Listen.”
―Rumi

“Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes.”
―Carl Jung

“I don’t ask for the sights in front of me to change, only the depth of my seeing.”
―Mary Oliver

“We have come into this exquisite world to experience ever and ever more deeply our divine courage, freedom, and light.”
―Hafiz

“Our space was a home because we loved each other in it.” —Barbara Ehrenreich

“A lot of what we experience as strength comes from knowing what to do with weakness.” —Barbara Ehrenreich

“There is a vast difference between positive thinking and existential courage.” —Barbara Ehrenreich

Walking Back to Center

/ Beth Weaver-Kreider / 4 Comments

lace-bridge

Perhaps if I keep writing the same thing over and over again, I will find my way into a new story. I keep returning to what the balances are in these days. Contemplation and activism, destruction and building up, resistance and gelassenheit, staying awake and staying sane.

This morning, after I had posted yet another horrifying news blurb (this one about the WH stance on the press as the enemy) on Facebook, my friend Anna politely and respectfully asked me whether there might be a point at which the continued reposting of the outrages might actually feed the energy of the current administration. This makes a lot of sense to me. When I live in a state of high anxiety about the meanness or pettiness or rudeness of someone else, I hand that person power, I let the bully control me. When I name someone my enemy, I bind myself to that person in a powerful way, and then every move that person makes becomes something I need to react to.

So. Cut the bindings. I can’t let these news cycles control me, can’t let every new atrocity throw me out of kilter. Yet this sounds dangerously similar to dis-engagement, to willful ignorance, something my privilege might allow me to do, but something my conscience cannot allow. How can I keep from being battered about by every move of this bully giant we’ve brought into existence, but still keep close enough to lend my strength to the toppling of the giant?

This is the thing I keep re-writing, over and over and over again: How can I keep from being carried along blindly by the waves of outrage, and still stay awake to the very real dangers that this giant poses to my Beloved Community?  How can we live with a sense of peace and purpose in the midst of the storm? Resist AND persist?

I think that the next four years are going to necessitate a constant reassessment of that balance, and it may not be the same for every person.  Here are some things I am going to try:

1. Listen to my wise Beloveds. Like Anna. Like you.
2. Learn to ask tender gentle questions like Anna did for me. Little wake-ups that help bring people around to themselves.
3. Remember to call people by their truest name: Beloved.
4. Limit the news. I need it in order to stay awake, to know my Work, but I can’t let it control my emotional state.
5. Read the words of MLK. He found a balance.
6. Watch more videos of baby fruit bats with their expressive ears and eyes.
7. Don’t fall into the pit of thinking that action is better than prayer.
8. Don’t fall into the pit of thinking that the Work is done when the prayer is done.
9. Feed action with contemplation.
10. Go outside and look up. Feel the wind. Feel the rain. Absorb color like sunlight.

Gratitude List:
1. The voice of the travelers in the morning, high above. “You do not have to be good.” “What we need is here.” (Mary Oliver and Wendell Berry references.)
2. The way winter trees stand against the sky, letting the magenta or the Maryblue or the aquamarine slip through their branches and twigs.
3. Although it was a little scary to drive through it, the way that storm front moved through. The scary clouds are also beautiful and exhilarating. Is there a life lesson in that? Sounds a little like Little Red in “Into the woods.”
4. All my Beloveds. We can always widen our circles to contain more and more Beloveds. Our hearts have limitless capacity.
5. A small retreat I took today at Radiance, to write and meditate and make art based on the chakras.

May we walk in Beauty!

Back to the Streets

/ Beth Weaver-Kreider / Leave a comment

Several years ago, when our nation was plunging headlong into wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, I found myself going to street protests sometimes twice in a week.  The level of work and focus and organizing was exhausting, but the community experience of standing silent witness together helped me to get through some of the really shadowy spaces I inhabited during those times.  Still, I burned out.  And when I moved to the farm and had children, and our country settled in for the long haul in these wars, I found myself slipping out of the realm of the activist.

So it was with a little trepidation and a little excitement that I tucked my children into the car today to run to Lancaster for the March Against Monsanto.  My youngsters are really too young to understand the implications of Genetically Modified Organisms, and I don’t want to bring them too close to the shadowy places where I walk in regard to this story: the sense that nothing we can do will change things, that we can have a majority of Americans wanting to know what’s in their food but that we still can’t change the system because it’s not really about democracy, it’s about money.  You see how I spiral down into it?  So I try to protect them from it, let them get the sense that somehow speaking out will make a difference.  And I try to believe that, too.

It’s fun to imagine that Monsanto execs went into their ivory tower this evening and said, “Well, time to wrap it up, folks.  The people have spoken.  They don’t want us.”  But I don’t think we did anything to frighten the monster today.

I do think that we raised a lot of energy today, all over the world, like a prayer, like a magic spell.  There was deep respect and joy and energy and hope at the march today.  It was a lovely experience, and I was glad that I took my children.  If we can just all grab hold of a little of that energy, spread it around a little, throw out strands of it like a great web, keep raising consciousness tenderly and with compassion, keep remembering that to withhold our dollars from the beast is the best way to starve it. . .then just maybe we can make a difference.

I have to believe that.

Gratitude List:
1.  Taking to the Streets
2.  Watching the boys play together up the hill, discovering the spray of mist leaking from the irrigation hose.
3.  Believing in the future
4.  Our Little Sisters the Bees
5.  Rhubarb Tort

May we walk in beauty.