Monday, July 15, 2013

The Burden of Hate

There is a need for kindness. We need to be kinder to each other, to listen just a little but more, show just a bit more compassion, even in the small things, the everyday things. In the smiles we share, or the burdens--respecting that someone’s burden is as heavy as she thinks it is. Respecting that someone’s outlook matters in the moment, that this too shall pass, that there are realities and then there are realities. That there are violent people in this world as much as there are peaceful, but that peace trumps violence when it comes to resources: there are so many ways to love. The tools we’re given to love are masterful, mysteriously appear when we need them, surprise us, delight us. I am looking for that delight in every glimmer of sunlight, the coolness of moonlight, every face and touch and hope.

There is fear, and war, and injustice. These things, too, do exist. There is an ugliness we have wrought which can bear down mightily on the most hopeful of souls. That can tear apart families, break hearts, and destroy community. And with this we must bear with one another's burdens, bear with one another in love, become humble and gentle--to beg for these gifts, for these tools, is my prayer. For those who suffer loss. For those who grapple with life’s cruelties. And for those who seek that wisdom beyond understanding.

Wednesday, July 10, 2013


It’s funny how idiosyncrasies strike me as life lessons--maybe I’m protecting myself against the harshness of reality by locking on to simple things, ways of grasping the all-too-real. I’m glad to have a trusted group of friends with whom I can discuss the ins and outs of the spirit which I know moves me. A recent topic was patience, and long-suffering that comes with it, sometimes, as fruits of the Spirit. (In a way, patience isn’t something you can develop all on your own--it’s a gift to pray for, meditate on.)

The stutter start of life’s transitions has become a source for me of great frustration and doubt, tests of my will. At best these become bumps in the road, at worst real detractors that present an unearthing, a recreating that can be painful, mostly because what you’d hoped for yourself can get pulled up with the weeds, and patience becomes a required element to be able to step back and look at what to do, what the next step is.

The discussion brought to mind a seemingly incongruous technological snafu, one I know many deal with anyhow: not being able to access something on your computer that normally you could. After going back and forth with tech support, the answer was obvious: clear your cache.


In humans we develop this memory that stores in layers and senses and emotions, that we can access in so many different ways. Computers have this auxiliary ability, and a cache, by definition, is actually about the inaccessibility or hiddenness in the storage. And I’d forgotten, as I do, how to tap into that, how to care for the spiritual gifts I’ve been given (or how to find the darn clear history button on my computer!). It would be nice if human suffering were this easy to deal with: remove the past, move forward with the future. Deal with hopes and dreams achieved or dashed with the click of a button.

It’s not necessarily that easy, but thankfully others can prod our memory and our better selves into perspective. That’s not to say I don’t still struggle with not being able to access that patience, to deal with harsh reality, but I seek to surround myself with those things which will help me pull through. Reboot. Make space for new memories and sensations and emotions, and voilĂ ! You have access. To something bigger, something more beautiful. Or at least the webpage you were expecting.