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The Huron Carol

Tonight, we went to Sam's Place on Henderson tonight to hear Sonya sing carols and read Christmas stories.  What a wonderful, relaxed Christmas-y evening.  Bren and I coloured winter pictures with wax crayons and sang carols while drinking coffee and sharing banana bread. Even though the last thing we need is books, we did buy a couple from their used book collection... i picked up the first Nancy Drew mystery for $1.50 ... a piece of childhood that I might read to my daughter this Christmas. (If she will allow it ...)

one of the stories Sonya told was about Canada's very own traditional carol.  It's heartwarming that it was written first in an Aboriginal language (Huron) and then later translated into French and English.  The nativity story is contextualized to help the original Canadians understand it.  You can listen (above) or read the lyrics (below).

The Huron Carol ('Twas In The Moon of Winter Time)

'Twas in the moon of wintertime when all the birds had fled
That mighty Gitchi Manitou sent angel choirs instead;
Before their light the stars grew dim and wondering hunters heard the hymn,
Jesus your King is born, Jesus is born, in excelsis gloria.

Within a lodge of broken bark the tender babe was found;
A ragged robe of rabbit skin enwrapped his beauty round
But as the hunter braves drew nigh the angel song rang loud and high
Jesus your King is born, Jesus is born, in excelsis gloria.

The earliest moon of wintertime is not so round and fair
As was the ring of glory on the helpless infant there.
The chiefs from far before him knelt with gifts of fox and beaver pelt.
Jesus your King is born, Jesus is born, in excelsis gloria.

O children of the forest free, O seed of Manitou
The holy Child of earth and heaven is born today for you.
Come kneel before the radiant boy who brings you beauty peace and joy.
Jesus your King is born, Jesus is born, in excelsis gloria.

Words: Jean de Brebeuf, ca. 1643; trans by Jesse Edgar Middleton, 1926
Music: French Canadian melody (tune name: Jesous Ahatonhia)

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

immersion

“Your profession is not what brings 

home your paycheck. Your profession is what 

you were put on earth to do with such 

passion and such intensity that it 

becomes spiritual in calling.”     

Vincent Van Gogh

  I asked for a copy of this image as a birthday present.  I can't recall ever asking for a specific thing before. I had seen it in a show 2 years ago - framed with the Van Gogh quote along the bottom - and I was completely captivated by it. The image is actually the cover of a book**, which includes lots of amazing underwater shots -  but what I asked for (and got) was a large, framed copy of the image just by itself. 

Anyway, I don't know what Rod and Sonya of Eve Studios named this image, but what came to mind while I stared at it was 'immersion'. Here is a bit of what it says to me so far...

It speaks to me about living risky and immersed, exposed and vulnerable.  Plunging in anyway, somehow staying on track in spite of yourself.  Knowing that there are costs and being willing to pay them. Looking fear and complacency right in the eye and saying (with intensity and conviction) ' you two are LOUD, but maybe you don't get to have the last word ..." 

I think this image gave me a visual representation I could associate with courageously living differently. I don't always feel that courage, but there ARE times when it is intensely present, brimming over even.

The profession reference in the quote (for me, anyway) speaks to living at and being part of  Flatlanders Inn. As I recall, when I saw this image for the first time, I had recently experienced yet another encounter with someone who looked at me like I had three heads because we choose to live where and how we do. This image gave me a visual - something to rest in and help me feel okay in my own skin and about our choices, okay to be our family -  just the way we are, and to immerse ourselves into something deep and life-altering without guarantees or even the support we sometimes wish we had more of.  We know that what we're doing isn't normal, and we know that many people won't or can't open themselves to something that seems so different.  (It isn't actually that different, but fear and complacency are loud, great convincers for humans!)

At the same time, there is so much grace communicated; its as if the model is suspended in the water. There is a sureness about her that seems out of place. As a viewer, if you've ever been in a swimming pool, you know she can't be suspended, its impossible - you know she's sinking and that her limbs must be moving. It makes me wonder: do our human attempts to do things that feel risky, unstable, like guaranteed failure, things that look just plain ridiculous... do they look this beautiful if captured in a certain moment, through a certain lens or from a certain perspective? Can we be graceful when we feel clumsy, laborious, unsure?  Do faith and trust help the whole thing to appear graceful when its also cloudy and confusing?  Is that part of what it means for calling to be spiritual - that there is a lot of risk and uncertainty in it?

Anyway, as of my birthday last week, I get to be inspired by this image every single day.  The ways to engage with it are endless..... I'm thankful to Lorrie, Lisa, Karen, Bren, Cory, and Bek for all pitching in so that I could contemplate 'immersion' every day!

** Those photo books are still available, by the way, and the proceeds from sales support water projects in the developing world. (Go here for more info if you're interested in the book - i think the shipping is free!)  You can also search out the H2Oohhh exhibit page on Facebook for more info.

major in the majors

 When my kids were small, they attended a nursery school in St. Vital. A few weeks into our first year of school, another mom and I noticed that we seemed to be coming from and going to the same place.  We started to walk together, and a friendship was born, one that continues to this day. It helped that our kids were the same age, and that we lived only two blocks apart at the time.  Our sons went to that nursery school together, and then a couple of years later, our daughters followed.  All those years, we'd walk together, often having play dates before or after school. Many warm coffees were shared, along with laughter and a pretty significant contribution to each other's families.
I just got a birthday note from that friend (Krista) this week, and I was reflecting on one of the most important contributions she made to my life. She taught me about majoring in the majors and letting the minors be minor.  She modelled it and gave me permission to let go of unimportant pressures.
I remember marvelling at how she could make sure the things she valued were part of her daily life and her family.  She completed a nursing degree while balancing a shift work schedule, working many over-nights, and while making sure that her kids were involved in activities that were important to their family.  Because she comes from a family of musicians, her kids have had opportunities to learn to play many instruments over the years.  One of the things that allowed Krista to have time for the things she valued was making do.  She made do by substituting, being open to creative solutions, being willing to change, and keeping her goals in sight.  She'd weigh options about how to spend time, choosing only what lined up with her values. She'd substitute ingredients, majoring in having home baking available for her kids while minoring in presentation or the 'rightness' of it. Fancy, pristine, just-right, or just-so weren't part of Krista's life or experience.  If they had been, she couldn't have done what she did. I loved the snacks that came from her house because they were nutritious and fun - like rice krispie squares that also had cheerios in them. She wouldn't run to the store to get whatever the kids wanted or some special excursion food when we went out together (that's what I did!) - she made do with whatever she had and didn't apologize for it.  Everyday things became craft supplies and creative opportunities - her kitchen walls were lined with a always-rotating array of interesting pictures and projects, and she rarely bought things other than markers or paper.
She was conscious of focusing her energy on what she had chosen to spend it on, and she was genuinely able to let go of demands for her attention/time that didn't line up with her 'important' list.  One day it clicked for me; Krista didn't get caught up in 'supposed to' or 'other's expectations'.   She just lived according to the values she had and the priorities she had set for herself and her family. Period. I think I started to do the same, and I'm so thankful for her influence in my life.

One of the things that attracted me to Flatlanders was that same quality of majoring in the majors and letting the minors be just that ... minor.  This was evidenced in the way we shopped and ate, in our decor and throughout the shared living spaces.  All of our practices rotate around the 'majors' of relationship and community .

The more I live here, the more I realize that we are at risk in the same ways as a family is.  The minors can pretty easily become major and the majors can slip down the list with hardly any awareness ....  all of a sudden, a pattern no one really chose is established and we're all looking at each other saying 'how'd that happen?'

A new year is about to start, and I'm looking at a few things in my life  and community - observing spots where the minors have become major and the majors haven't gotten the attention they should have. And so, I'm going to do a Krista-inspired evaluation and hopefully put things in better order.

renegotiating experience

I've been reading a book about Narrative practices, and this struck me tonight; I wanted to remember it.

I have proposed that the deconstruction of taken for granted ways of thinking and being presents persons with options for the negotiation and renegotiation of their experience of life in terms of alternative modes of thought and practices of life. I have further proposed that this deconstruction frees persons to more actively monitor the real effects of their ways of being and thinking, and that this has the potential to provide them with the opportunity to have more to say about which ways they might live, and which ways they might think. 

            Michael White, in Narratives of Therapists Lives 

perspective

I often captivated by stories that have been passed on through the oral tradition.  This is one of my favourites;


Six blind men were discussing exactly what they believed an elephant to be, since each had heard how strange the creature was, yet none had ever seen one before. So the blind men agreed to find an elephant and discover what the animal was really like.

from: http://pwoessner.com/
wp-content/uploads/2009/12/elephant.jpg

It didn't take the blind men long to find an elephant at a nearby market. The first blind man approached the beast and felt the animal's firm flat side. "It seems to me that the elephant is just like a wall," he said to his friends.
The second blind man reached out and touched one of the elephant's tusks. "No, this is round and smooth and sharp - the elephant is like a spear."
Intrigued, the third blind man stepped up to the elephant and touched its trunk. "Well, I can't agree with either of you; I feel a squirming writhing thing - surely the elephant is just like a snake."
The fourth blind man was of course by now quite puzzled. So he reached out, and felt the elephant's leg. "You are all talking complete nonsense," he said, "because clearly the elephant is just like a tree."
Utterly confused, the fifth blind man stepped forward and grabbed one of the elephant's ears. "You must all be mad - an elephant is exactly like a fan."
Duly, the sixth man approached, and, holding the beast's tail, disagreed again. "It's nothing like any of your descriptions - the elephant is just like a rope."

And all six blind men continued to argue, based on their own particular experiences, as to what they thought an elephant was like. It was an argument that they were never able to resolve.


 Each of them was concerned only with their own idea. None of them had the full picture, and none could see any of the other's point of view. 


Each man saw the elephant as something different, each blind man was partially correct, but mostly missing the larger truth.  Each man was more concerned about his perspective and his correctness than learning all that could be learned.


I got this version of the story from this site. 


Maybe you needed perspective today, too?

more about mattering

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.

Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.

It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us.

We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant,

gorgeous, talented, fabulous?

Actually, who are you not to be?

You are a child of God.

Your playing small does not serve the world.

There is nothing enlightened about shrinking

so that other people won't feel insecure around you.

We are all meant to shine, as children do.

We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us.

It is not just in some of us; it is in everyone.

And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously

give other people permission to do the same.

As we are liberated from our own fear,

our presence automatically liberates others.

- Marianne Williamson, in Return to Love: Reflections on a Course in Miracles

(I've also seen these words attributed to Nelson Mandela)