Marking time

Halfway Down

Halfway down the stairs
Is a stair
Where I sit.
There isn't any
Other stair
Quite like
It.
I'm not at the bottom,
I'm not at the top;
So this is the stair
Where
I always
Stop.

Halfway up the stairs
Isn't up,
And isn't down.
It isn't in the nursery,
It isn't in the town.
And all sorts of funny thoughts
Run round my head:
"It isn't really
Anywhere!
It's somewhere else
Instead!"

A. A. Milne, When We Were Very Young

Today begins the last third of my sabbatical time. I recalled this poem a couple of weeks ago when I reached the halfway mark. It was our last day in Hawai'i and my first trip on a zipline. At the same time frightening and exhilarating, it might be a good metaphor for living into any kind of experience, including life itself. As I looked out over the valley, some 250 feet deep, and heard the instruction at the edge of the cliff, "just run and keep on running until your feet leave the edge," fear gripped my heart. But the first step into thin air was accompanied by a freedom impossible to describe. Now I don't have any astounding insights or even sermon ideas from this or any other of my experiences yet. I have simply been absorbing them (or jumping into them).

In this break of time between vacation and study in England, the L'Arche Regional Conference took place in nearby Scranton. It was a three-day experience for all core members, assistants and other workers, friends and family, built around fellowship, recreation, worship and fun. They came from Massachusetts, Ohio, New York, Virgina, Washington DC, Pennsylvania, and the newest pre-project in southern New Jersey. I re-connected with the people I had met in Haverhill and Erie, and made new friends in New Jersey and Central Virginia. We swam in the pool, ate lunch together, and were treated to presentations of each L'Arche community. Saturday evening concluded with a foot-washing service as a reminder of how we serve and bless each other.





I continue to be blessed by the people of L'Arche. They are joyful, dedicated to each other, people of prayer. They are not perfect, and that does not stop them from blessing each other and the world.

They remind me so much of the people of St. James', whom I miss immensely in the midst of this jewel of sabbatical time.

Shalom,

Cathy

Fear of Flying

Eleanor Roosevelt said, "Do one thing every day that scares you."
We went ziplining on our last day in Hawai'i.
The video speaks for itself. Alohaaaaaaaa! Cathy

This photo album made with Smilebox

Aloha Hawai'i!

Our Hawaiian trip is drawing to a close. We have adventured to an active volcano, hiked to waterfalls and visited both white sand and black sand beaches. The Big Island is a study in contrasts of land and water and wind. As we biked through Volcanoes National Park, steam vents warmed us and rain cooled us. We rode detours around places where roads used to be, and wandered through a lava tube. The beaches are the stuff postcards are made of, with warm waters and pounding surf for those of us who love the tactile along with the viusal! And through the lazy days in this most beautiful corner of the island (the North Kohala coast), the home shared with us by the good people of St. Augustine's is our home base for exploring -- from coffee farm to macadamia nut factory, from the city of Hilo to the Waipi'o Valley.


The Sunday celebration of the Eucharist was flavored with Hawaiian culture as well as St. Augustine custom. "Aloha" is the community greeting; priest and Lay Eucharistic Ministers wear leis (as well as all guests!). People in the congregation pray the parts of the prayers of the people, and the doxology is sung in English and Hawaiian. This is a joyful community with much welcome and great food at fellowship hour -- just like St. James'.


June 11 was a state holiday here -- King Kamehameha I, who united the islands of Hawaii in 1810, is honored on this day with his many statues graced with multitudes of leis in his honor. The celebration included hula competitions and parades.

Before we leave Hawai'i, we will go to a lu'au and sample the beaches one more time!


Aloha nui loa,
Cathy

Aloha!

We flew across the country and across time zones. Park2Go, Newark Airport, San Francisco Airport, Airport Marriott, San Francisco Airport, Kona Airport, Avis Rent-a-Car, St. Augustine's Vicarage. The trip had taken two days, and as we began the drive up the western coast of Kona, we were drawn in by the beauty and the strangeness of the landscape. On this side of "the Big Island," the earth is formed of old lava flows, black with low, tan grassy plants. Mountains rise to the east and north, not the least of which is Mauna Kea, nearly 14,000 feet when measured from the sea. The ancient Hawaiians thought of the top of Mauna Kea as heaven. Our experience of Hawaii so far leads us to believe they were right.

The people and the Vicar of St. Augustine's Church welcomed us to their spacious vicarage, complete with mango and avocado trees, breezy lanai, and comfortable bedrooms. Vicar Tom Buechele pointed out the best beaches and the best sushi restaurant. We were not surprised by the graciousness and generosity of their welcome, but we were surprised at 3 am the first night when a frenzy of rustling bushes and snorting announced the arrival of macadamia nut-scavenging wild pigs!

Today, Tuesday, we hiked to the black sand beach at the base of Pololu Valley; the trip to the base was easy, climbing back up a bit more strenuous -- a mile and a half with a 400 foot elevation. The black sand is silky and fine, the shoreline edged with wave-smoothed volcanic rock. The beauty of the place is stunning; watching the crashing surf mesmerizing.

We are looking forward to exploring more of the 'aina (land) and hearing the mo'olelo, the ancient stories of the people.

Aloha nui loa
Cathy

Permaculture

I had to admit to the irony of it; on the day I left for the Community of the Holy Spirit's Bluestone Farm, I had to wait for the septic tank company to come and pump the tank and inspect it. First I had to dig through about a foot of earth to uncover the tank lids. Then, being an information junkie, I watched his work, peppering him with questions shouted over the noise of the truck pump. Little did I know that his explanation of the workings of the system would be my introduction to permaculture, a word that I had not heard until arriving in Brewster on Thursday afternoon.

Permaculture is usually defined as an approach to designing human and / or agricultural systems that is based on relationships found in natural ecologies. A good example is sustainable land use design: we attempt to create productive systems that harmonize land and its inhabitants. Within a “permaculture system,” the processes of plants, animals, climate and weather cycles and nutrient cycles are all part of the picture. The principles of permaculture can be applied to any environment and at any scale, from an individual home or farm to entire regions and even urban communities.

The core values of permaculture are earthcare, recognition of the earth as the source of all life, and that we humans are part of it; people care, developing healthy societies and ways to live in harmony with our environments; and fairshare, consciously limiting consumption so that the earth's resources are used in ways that are both equitable and wise.

Ideas are one thing, and experience is another. My experiences include tedious weeding in the hot sun, putting the chickens and ducks to bed, waking up the chickens and ducks, collecting eggs, cleaning the coops, harvesting at least a dozen different kinds of greens for the dinner salad. Nothing is wasted; compost and chicken manure fertilize. Food is preserved for wintertime through drying, use of a root cellar and canning. The farm goods are shared through a local Farmers' Market. A series of interns provide labor as they learn. At Bluestone Farm, the rhythm of the farm work is framed by the rhythm of the daily offices and eucharist. There is a weekly sabbath, and each sister takes a retreat day to herself once a month.

I found this an easy life to join; it makes so much sense, and even has echoes of the L'Arche sense of community in it, though in a very physical way. Oh sure, I was sent out to weed a patch of land for the June tomato planting and managed to pull up some plants with value which looked like weeds to me. It is very hard work to do organic farming, and very satisfying to join in the cycle of life which mimics our own “human” cycles of life and death, health and sickness, the petty, the mundane and the glorious.

This morning I went to a local Episcopal church. It is Pentecost, and five infants were baptized. I missed our children. There were two priests; one had a microphone, one did not. I missed our sound system and the way it is consistently used. I managed to make the trek from sanctuary to coffee hour without a greeting. I left without coffee, and missed our welcome. Yet I loved their spirit and good hearts...and the feeding of the eucharist.

This intentional time away is awesome, full of new experiences and also the dreary things left undone in a busy life. The visit to the DMV Inspection Station, the cleaners whose automated cash register accuses me: “Long time, no see!” and, of course, the septic tank.

But darkness has fallen here at Bluestone Farm. I am off to bed down the chickens and ducks.

The blessing of L'Arche Erie

As I drove up the ramp to Route 80 West, the GPS said in its robotic voice "drive 349 miles on Route 80 west." That was my welcome to the highway, a virtual straight line to the turnoff to Erie, PA. My welcome to the Rose Home, one of eight L'Arche homes of L'Arche Erie, was much warmer: a sign on my bedroom door, the enthusiastic greetings from Bev and Michelle, a quieter one from Joann, and a huge hug from Lisa. These core members of the Rose Home are proud of their house and love visitors. At dinner, I heard about their days at work or other daily activity. They wanted to know how long I was staying and if I had a dog. My two favorite times at L'Arche are dinner and prayer time: dinner because I love to share a meal with lots of people (there were ten the first night) and prayer time because it is quiet and energizing at the same time. The time spent in prayer at the end of the day is full of gratitude and peace; joined with the ordinary time of meal preparation and eating, it is a reminder of how holy our moments together are.

I was really fortunate in this visit to be part of a community day. This is a gathering of all eight houses, core members and assistants and other staff, for a full afternoon of storytelling (by Bob Kloos, who told the story of the workers in the playground, which sounded suspiciously like the parable of the workers in the vineyard!), prayer, games, and of course, a meal.

My favorite moment was at the end of prayer time at another house where I was invited to dinner -- Oasis House, home of four men and assistants. Jason asked if they could sing the L'Arche blessing for me. Around the table, they raised their hands in blessing and sang, "May the blessing of the Lord be upon you; we bless you in the name of the Lord."

On the way out of town, I saw this sign.


I am sure L'Arche folks know all about its message.

And so it begins...

My bag is packed, the car is gassed up and the GPS has the address of L'Arche Erie. I am ready for my second visit to a L'Arche community, this time to the first one established in the United States: Erie, Pennsylvania. I spent some time in February at L'Arche Irenicon in Haverhill, Massachusetts, where I stayed at Gandhi House with core members Jim, Dan, Devin and Tom. Tomorrow the alarm goes off at 5 AM, and I am on my way!

This sabbatical time has three parts: education, re-creation and reflection. I will learn about the L'Arche communities through study and sharing daily life with them; re-create through rest and refreshment with family and friends; and reflect on it all, most likely well after the sabbatical time is over.


I eased into sabbatical mode this first week: choosing "re-creation" time with Ted, we boarded the Yankee Clipper (a ferry on the NY Waterway) in Weehawken and rode to Yankee Stadium by way of the Hudson and East Rivers. It was a glorious day, the stadium is a work of art, and the Yankees beat the Orioles 7-5! Mother's Day found us on our inaugural spring hike (dressed for winter) to Buttermilk Falls in Mendham. The beautiful days of this past week have made time in the garden almost easy.

I am ready for my new adventure!