Unity's affinity for metaphysical study is an important component of our teachings. Practically applied, it's a bit like dream interpretation. But instead of analyzing a dream, we study life events for spiritual meaning--meaning that lies beyond (meta) tangible (physical) effects.
It's an intense week here at Unity Village -- birthplace of the Unity Movement and home to our ongoing education and prayer work . The "work" of ministry team meetings, interviewing ministerial students, and writing evaluations is mushed together with the "fun" of networking, random hallway confabs, coffee klatches, and comparing notes and best practices over a meal. Every second contains abundant opportunities to connect with colleagues, to learn, to pray and to grow.
The structure behind the building where I live is being razed. Most mornings, I wake to a pounding cacophony of demo work, punctuated with shrill, beeping backup alarms. If that weren’t enough to rouse us neighbors, the ground shakes so much my bed shudders with every blow by the earth mover. Truth be told, my first thoughts upon waking lately, have been more condemning than inspiring.
I've always loved the profound simplicity of the Serenity Prayer. It's a powerful touchstone for establishing peace and order when anxiety and chaos seem to reign:
God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; the courage to change the things I can; and the wisdom to know the difference.
My personal email has been hacked for the last time! Based on the counsel of a tech-savvy friend I've deleted all my contacts and opened a new emaill account with a different provider. Gradually, now, I'm rebuilding my contacts in the new address book.
My dining room table seats 12 when fully extended but folds to a two-seater. It’s great. But when it’s folded, the subtlest movement makes the sides bang annoyingly against the legs. It used to have felt pads but they fell off weeks ago. I’ve been meaning to replace them but keep forgetting to buy new ones. This morning while journaling, every stroke of the pen was punctuated by noisy clatter. At first I tried to ignore it. No luck. Then I tried reframing: “This is an opportunity to strengthen my ability to focus.” No go.
Strictly speaking, the Christmas story we know from hymns is a mash-up of gospel accounts in Matthew and Luke. Both start with angels but Matthew has no interest in Mary. That writer’s priority is connecting Jesus to ancient prophecies by establishing his royal lineage, so the Matthew narrative focuses on Joseph (only paternal bloodlines counted then). He also gives us the wandering star and wise men from the east.
Passing out acorn squash this week at Evanston Producemobile's first monthly distribution, I felt a conflicting mix of emotion: the sense of fulfillment that always accompanies being of service to others, but also a sobering sadness. According to Greater Chicago Food Depository, 12% to 14% of Evanston families are considered "food insecure," meaning they don't know where their next meal is coming from. Though I already knew the facts, I hadn't fully grasped the scope of the need until I met some of those represented in the statistics face-to-face.
As Christmas approaches, there's so much emphasis on light and joy, that to be aware of darkness and shadow, can seem...well, wrong. But if we try to repress feelings of sadness or anger, the partying, shopping, libating and feasting often exacerbates feelings of loneliness and isolation.
Certainly, Christmas is about anticipating the joy of new birth, celebrating new possibilities, and exalting the divine within. But ask any woman who's been pregnant: Birth can entail an intense blend of joy and wonder, mixed with pain and worry.
With all the hype over Black Friday, Cyber Monday, and a half-billion-dollar lotto jackpot, it's easy to bemoan the consumerism surrounding Christmas. Seriously though, grumbling and grousing over it feels more Scrooge-like than joyful, doesn't it?
