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??
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