Our goal is to create a beloved community, and this will require a qualitative change in our souls as well as a quantitative change in our lives.
~ Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.
We envision a world where everyone can explore and create meaningful connections with the people and places we encounter. Building meaningful connections across cultures enables us to respond to diversity with curiosity, appreciation and respect. The appreciation of diversity spreads tolerance and creates a global community.
~ CouchSurfing vision statement
I’m psyched about couch surfing (couchsurfing.org). Because it provides a secure way for strangers to meet and stay in each other’s homes, it’s a great way to build community that transcends geographical boundaries. I was privileged to stay with some hospitable people in Canada, and Jim and I have begun to host people in our home, too. It’s already been enriching!
I love meeting people with an adventuresome spirit. I love the idea that people are willing to be open and available to each other, with no motive for personal gain. I love that the human community is simultaneously becoming larger and smaller. Above all, I love that humans can see ourselves as part of a worldwide community (I used to think it would take an attack from outer space for a global community to coalesce).
Here’s one more quote, from Desmond Tutu: We think of ourselves far too frequently as just individuals, separated from one another, whereas you are connected and what you do affects the whole world. When you do well, it spreads out; it is for the whole of humanity.
Amen, brother.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
On Making it Home
Wendell Berry’s story, Making it Home, has a lot to say about coming home after a long journey. I’ve changed the gender because it fits me so well:
She had crossed the wide ocean and many a river...[She] had come a long way, trusting somebody else to know where she was, and now she knew where she was herself. ...Once it had seemed to her that she walked only on the place where she was. But now, having gone and returned from so far, she knew that she was walking on the whole round world.
It’s an artifact of having been gone a long time that, at first, home feels a little foreign even as it feels familiar. Yesterday, having been home a week, I finally started to feel “at-homeness” all the way down to my bone marrow. Now I can begin nurturing the tender sprouts that are springing from the seeds planted on the road trip.
Here’s today’s question: Who am I when I am far from anyone who knows who I am?
She had crossed the wide ocean and many a river...[She] had come a long way, trusting somebody else to know where she was, and now she knew where she was herself. ...Once it had seemed to her that she walked only on the place where she was. But now, having gone and returned from so far, she knew that she was walking on the whole round world.
It’s an artifact of having been gone a long time that, at first, home feels a little foreign even as it feels familiar. Yesterday, having been home a week, I finally started to feel “at-homeness” all the way down to my bone marrow. Now I can begin nurturing the tender sprouts that are springing from the seeds planted on the road trip.
Here’s today’s question: Who am I when I am far from anyone who knows who I am?
Monday, May 24, 2010
Home!
Two months, 5500 miles, 19 states, 2 Canadian provinces, and the District of Columbia; 3 car ferries, 3 big city metro systems, and countless interstates. I put quite a few miles on the Keens...
...but the bug-spattered snout of my Corolla says it all.
It's a blessing to be home at last.
...but the bug-spattered snout of my Corolla says it all.
It's a blessing to be home at last.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Nova Scotia, Eh!
It turns out that the convenient, fast ferry from Bar Harbor Maine to Yarmouth, Nova Scotia is OUT OF SERVICE. So on Monday I took a little drive up the coast to St. John, New Brunswick. Natives tell me it's like Topeka, in that people who visit St. John are usually on their way to someplace more interesting.
Still, there was a cool City Market.
Here's another, more dismaying discovery I made: There is such a thing as the Atlantic Time Zone, and St. John is in it. So, when I rolled up to the ferry terminal after a leisurely drive, the ferry was just leaving. Instead of being 55 minutes early, I was 5 minutes late. Next ferry: 11 p.m., getting into Nova Scotia at 2 in the morning. Blarg.
I opted to stay the night in New Brunswick. But where? An expensive hotel? What a bite that would take out of my budget.
In an earlier attempt to find a couch surfing spot in St. John (see couchsurfing.org) I obtained a phone number for Debbie, a local who couldn't host me but offered to get together for coffee if I was ever in town at loose ends. Boy, was I ever at loose ends. I called Debbie, and she met me for a walk and talk. Soon she called up her sister, who agreed to let me stay on the futon in her basement. So, instead of a lonely and pricey hotel, I got to stay with a Canadian/German couple and their 10 year old son. They even welcomed me in for dinner and a family movie! I felt truly blessed by their hospitality to a wayfaring stranger.
Finally, with my watch set on Atlantic time, I made it onto the ferry today. The Princess of Acadia is big and brash and holds lots of people, cars, and cargo. Here's her bridge, from the upper deck.
And below, where my trusty Corolla was safely stowed.
And a shot of the lifeboats hanging above the lower deck. That's the Bay of Fundy we're sailing on.
And here is the entrance to the Digby Gut, a protected cove along the coast of Nova Scotia.
And the quaint little harbor at Digby Town, the Scallop Capital of the World. (Had 'em for dinner--yum.)
A few hours later the harbor starts to look like someone's pulled the drain plug! Where is the water going? It's the massive tide, on its way to a 30' drop (2 times each day). Some places around Fundy Bay have an 80' tide!
Still, there was a cool City Market.
Here's another, more dismaying discovery I made: There is such a thing as the Atlantic Time Zone, and St. John is in it. So, when I rolled up to the ferry terminal after a leisurely drive, the ferry was just leaving. Instead of being 55 minutes early, I was 5 minutes late. Next ferry: 11 p.m., getting into Nova Scotia at 2 in the morning. Blarg.
I opted to stay the night in New Brunswick. But where? An expensive hotel? What a bite that would take out of my budget.
In an earlier attempt to find a couch surfing spot in St. John (see couchsurfing.org) I obtained a phone number for Debbie, a local who couldn't host me but offered to get together for coffee if I was ever in town at loose ends. Boy, was I ever at loose ends. I called Debbie, and she met me for a walk and talk. Soon she called up her sister, who agreed to let me stay on the futon in her basement. So, instead of a lonely and pricey hotel, I got to stay with a Canadian/German couple and their 10 year old son. They even welcomed me in for dinner and a family movie! I felt truly blessed by their hospitality to a wayfaring stranger.
Finally, with my watch set on Atlantic time, I made it onto the ferry today. The Princess of Acadia is big and brash and holds lots of people, cars, and cargo. Here's her bridge, from the upper deck.
And below, where my trusty Corolla was safely stowed.
And a shot of the lifeboats hanging above the lower deck. That's the Bay of Fundy we're sailing on.
And here is the entrance to the Digby Gut, a protected cove along the coast of Nova Scotia.
And the quaint little harbor at Digby Town, the Scallop Capital of the World. (Had 'em for dinner--yum.)
A few hours later the harbor starts to look like someone's pulled the drain plug! Where is the water going? It's the massive tide, on its way to a 30' drop (2 times each day). Some places around Fundy Bay have an 80' tide!
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Maine is like a picture postcard.
Clearly, though, there are hazards to watch out for.
...Especially if you're a lobster.
Here is my friend Linda introducing Crusty to the hot tub at Clary Lake B & B. His line: "How's the water, Fred? ...FRED?? AAAAUGH!!"
Notice how Crusty stares accusingly at us through the steam.
Ahhh, dinner--we added bread to this meal so there'd be three things on which to put butter.
Clearly, though, there are hazards to watch out for.
...Especially if you're a lobster.
Here is my friend Linda introducing Crusty to the hot tub at Clary Lake B & B. His line: "How's the water, Fred? ...FRED?? AAAAUGH!!"
Notice how Crusty stares accusingly at us through the steam.
Ahhh, dinner--we added bread to this meal so there'd be three things on which to put butter.
Monday, May 10, 2010
Make Way for Boston!
New England is an experience unto itself. Here’s an example of Yankee ingenuity. (I hear this kind of thriftiness is making a comeback.)
And in Boston the dead may vote, but they dare not park.
While in Boston I stopped at headquarters (ha--UUA offices, 25 Beacon Street)...
...and practiced intoning great truths at William Ellery Channing’s very own lectern.
So as not to leave out our Universalist brethren, here is Hosea Ballou.
Nearby is King’s Chapel, a 17th century church that’s been Unitarian in theology for nearly 200 years. Here’s how this pulpit design could work for us at UUFT: imagine that the umbrella-like structure on top slid steadily downward during the sermon, thus encouraging the preacher to be brief (or stay encased in the pulpit till coffee hour). Not surprisingly, the King’s Chapel staff declined to let me mount the steed for a photo op.
And here’s the “Governor’s Box,” meant to hold the King’s representative when he attended services. George Washington once sat here to attend a benefit concert after the revolution.
Are you saturated with photos of the grande dames of Unitarian Universalism? But wait! You haven’t even been to Arlington Street Church yet.
This is Channing’s church. A statue of him stands in brooding vigil across the street.
Arlington Street has some of the best Tiffany stained glass windows in Boston. This is the Annunciation.
During the Mother’s Day service a child dedication honored Kobe, and his two daddies. (No, without even the slightest hint of irony.)
Other Boston sights included the North End, a picturesque Italian neighborhood where I tried (and failed) to eat a whole cannoli, and where Jenn G. and I got lots of belly laughs at an improv comedy club.
And here we are at the Public Garden on a c-c-cold May morning.
There are real and virtual swans on the lake here, and for you Robert McCloskey fans, there is an homage to his beloved ducks. Here is Mrs. Mallard, and a few of the brood (I don’t know whether this shot includes Jack, Kack, Lack, Mack, Nack, Ouack, Pack, or Quack).
And one more statue from the Public Garden was left untitled. I call it: Whiskey, Tango, Foxtrot??
And in Boston the dead may vote, but they dare not park.
While in Boston I stopped at headquarters (ha--UUA offices, 25 Beacon Street)...
...and practiced intoning great truths at William Ellery Channing’s very own lectern.
So as not to leave out our Universalist brethren, here is Hosea Ballou.
Nearby is King’s Chapel, a 17th century church that’s been Unitarian in theology for nearly 200 years. Here’s how this pulpit design could work for us at UUFT: imagine that the umbrella-like structure on top slid steadily downward during the sermon, thus encouraging the preacher to be brief (or stay encased in the pulpit till coffee hour). Not surprisingly, the King’s Chapel staff declined to let me mount the steed for a photo op.
And here’s the “Governor’s Box,” meant to hold the King’s representative when he attended services. George Washington once sat here to attend a benefit concert after the revolution.
Are you saturated with photos of the grande dames of Unitarian Universalism? But wait! You haven’t even been to Arlington Street Church yet.
This is Channing’s church. A statue of him stands in brooding vigil across the street.
Arlington Street has some of the best Tiffany stained glass windows in Boston. This is the Annunciation.
During the Mother’s Day service a child dedication honored Kobe, and his two daddies. (No, without even the slightest hint of irony.)
Other Boston sights included the North End, a picturesque Italian neighborhood where I tried (and failed) to eat a whole cannoli, and where Jenn G. and I got lots of belly laughs at an improv comedy club.
And here we are at the Public Garden on a c-c-cold May morning.
There are real and virtual swans on the lake here, and for you Robert McCloskey fans, there is an homage to his beloved ducks. Here is Mrs. Mallard, and a few of the brood (I don’t know whether this shot includes Jack, Kack, Lack, Mack, Nack, Ouack, Pack, or Quack).
And one more statue from the Public Garden was left untitled. I call it: Whiskey, Tango, Foxtrot??
Thursday, May 6, 2010
On a side trip to Newport R.I. I visited the Touro Synagogue, the oldest synagogue in North America and a symbol of American religious freedom. Touro was founded by Sephardic Jews who came to America by way of Amsterdam and the West Indies, seeking a place to freely live and worship. In a nice Colonial touch, it was built by a Quaker Carpenter.
Rhode Island was the first colony to declare independence from England, and so Newport was occupied by the British early on. The Rabbi of Touro Synagogue invited the Brits in to use the space as a hospital. (He removed all the brass and scrolls, of course.) Other Americans accused him of being a British sympathizer. But the synagogue was unmolested, and survives today.
Rhode Island was the last of the 13 states to sign the U.S. constitution, and didn’t do so until the 2nd version of the Bill of Rights and the 1st Amendment were complete. They valued religious freedom that much. And in answer to a letter from the synagogue’s president, George Washington wrote...
The Citizens of the United States of America have a right to applaud themselves for having given to mankind examples of an enlarged and liberal policy... All possess alike liberty of conscience and immunities of citizenship. It is now no more that toleration is spoken of, as if it was by the indulgence of one class of people, that another enjoyed the exercise of their inherent national gifts. For happily the Government of the United States, which gives to bigotry no sanction, to persecution no assistance requires only that they who live under its protection should demean themselves as good citizens, in giving it on all occasions their effectual support.
...thus saying two essential things: There would be no persecution of minority religious groups, AND Jews could be citizens like anyone else.
It’s no surprise that Unitarians also found Rhode Island to be a hospitable place. Here is Channing Memorial Church in Newport...
...and facing it, in a park across the street, is a statue of William Ellery Channing himself!
Rhode Island was the first colony to declare independence from England, and so Newport was occupied by the British early on. The Rabbi of Touro Synagogue invited the Brits in to use the space as a hospital. (He removed all the brass and scrolls, of course.) Other Americans accused him of being a British sympathizer. But the synagogue was unmolested, and survives today.
Rhode Island was the last of the 13 states to sign the U.S. constitution, and didn’t do so until the 2nd version of the Bill of Rights and the 1st Amendment were complete. They valued religious freedom that much. And in answer to a letter from the synagogue’s president, George Washington wrote...
The Citizens of the United States of America have a right to applaud themselves for having given to mankind examples of an enlarged and liberal policy... All possess alike liberty of conscience and immunities of citizenship. It is now no more that toleration is spoken of, as if it was by the indulgence of one class of people, that another enjoyed the exercise of their inherent national gifts. For happily the Government of the United States, which gives to bigotry no sanction, to persecution no assistance requires only that they who live under its protection should demean themselves as good citizens, in giving it on all occasions their effectual support.
...thus saying two essential things: There would be no persecution of minority religious groups, AND Jews could be citizens like anyone else.
It’s no surprise that Unitarians also found Rhode Island to be a hospitable place. Here is Channing Memorial Church in Newport...
...and facing it, in a park across the street, is a statue of William Ellery Channing himself!
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Rhode Island!
Here’s my way cool cousin Laurie, and her beloved Paulo, introducing me to one of Rhode Island’s finest!!
Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. (sigh)
Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. (sigh)
Monday, May 3, 2010
Toto, we're not in Kansas anymore!
Ah, New York City! The hustle, the bustle, the grit and the grime...but the people are really friendly (and helpful to goobs bewildered in the subway), and there’s something almost magical about all that energy. From the skyline,
...to the highline (a cool urban garden thriving in old, abandoned elevated train tracks).
And of course seeing Jim was a breath of fresh air on the sabbatical. Here we are in Central Park...
We went most of the expected tourist places, like Chinatown...
And the Statue of Liberty...
And I was privileged to stand in the Great Hall of Ellis Island, the gateway my grandparents came through when they arrived in the U.S., about 100 years ago. It was moving to be there and strange to be just 2 generations removed from a couple of illiterate Russian peasants who’d just left everything familiar (perhaps so that their granddaughter could stand in that hall as a well educated, middle class American woman). Ellis Island was where the Romantum name was invented, by the way. Since Grandpa couldn’t spell his name, I guess it made no difference to him how the immigration clerk wrote it down.
We went to All Souls (yes, another one), which really was as staid as it looked.
And we saw the NYC Ballet at Lincoln Center (which turned into a $20 nap for Jim).
Some of the best parts were the cheapest. We went to a Moth Story Slam (and if you don’t know the Moth Podcast, find it NOW) and heard some great music in the subway. Here’s a guy with a really cool homemade dobro!
And of course, they don’t charge for looking at the sights! (Picture me gaping open mouthed, with a Gomer Pyle-esque “goll-y”–– that was my NYC default mode.)
...to the highline (a cool urban garden thriving in old, abandoned elevated train tracks).
And of course seeing Jim was a breath of fresh air on the sabbatical. Here we are in Central Park...
We went most of the expected tourist places, like Chinatown...
And the Statue of Liberty...
And I was privileged to stand in the Great Hall of Ellis Island, the gateway my grandparents came through when they arrived in the U.S., about 100 years ago. It was moving to be there and strange to be just 2 generations removed from a couple of illiterate Russian peasants who’d just left everything familiar (perhaps so that their granddaughter could stand in that hall as a well educated, middle class American woman). Ellis Island was where the Romantum name was invented, by the way. Since Grandpa couldn’t spell his name, I guess it made no difference to him how the immigration clerk wrote it down.
We went to All Souls (yes, another one), which really was as staid as it looked.
And we saw the NYC Ballet at Lincoln Center (which turned into a $20 nap for Jim).
Some of the best parts were the cheapest. We went to a Moth Story Slam (and if you don’t know the Moth Podcast, find it NOW) and heard some great music in the subway. Here’s a guy with a really cool homemade dobro!
And of course, they don’t charge for looking at the sights! (Picture me gaping open mouthed, with a Gomer Pyle-esque “goll-y”–– that was my NYC default mode.)
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