Sanctuary

In a church, a temple or a mosque; on the mountain, by the river, in the forest, along the shore; we each find our sanctuary in different places. Sometimes we find sanctuary in each other. In the bright eyes of a child; the warm gesture of a friend; the intimate touch of our lover.

I often find myself contemplating my ideal sanctuary. I seek that special place where I can feel safe, secure and protected from my own negative self-talk. Those of us who spend our days plotting, planning, intellectualizing and rationalizing can too frequently get lost in the maze; the maze of earthly concerns and material wants. Our spirit is best fed by the poetry of nature: the crispness of the morning air; the scent of the blossoming flower; the song of the meandering river; and the strength of the giant oak. In nature, I remember my purpose. I must learn to see not only with my eyes, but with my spirit as well.


In nature, we learn the cycle of life. There is a clarity that we can not find in man-made doctrine. We tend to seek stability in our lives; stability means stagnation. The "answers" we seek come to us in abstraction; unsettling and mysterious. This mystery is the source of all true art and science; or so said Albert Einstein. This mystery is the source of our faith that feeds our spirit.

In those moments of clarity, among the splendor of nature we are inspired; we are forgiven; we are renewed. We can accept that success and failure are man-made measures. We believe that there is little difference between your faith and mine, but the man-made trappings of religion. We find the unity we seek in sanctuary.

To sit and watch an animal, a flower, the tree, we can recognize the dignity, the innocence, the holiness of nature. All working in unison, at different paces, to create this sanctuary and abide by the cycle of life.

The lesson we should take from this is that all of mankind is a mix of "people becoming"; all at different paces. We are all at different stages of our spiritual evolution. Those at the "same stage" choose to practice similar beliefs. We are all on different paths; not one right or one wrong. It is the search for sanctuary and enlightenment.

At My Thanksgiving Table

On the fourth Thursday of November, each year, Americans sit down at a table with family and friends to celebrate Thanksgiving. The feast is endless and the drink flows freely.

At my table, among the friends and family, among the memories of those who have gone before us, I embrace some special guests.

At my table, Faith takes a seat. Faith reminds us that we should not require proof or evidence to believe in the goodness of humanity. Faith maintains that our trust, confidence and reliance in our spiritual beliefs will be rewarded with the promise.

At my table, Respect joins with arms open. Respect teaches us to consider each other and each other's beliefs with deference, courtesy and regard. Respect tells us that this regard is not to be offered just to others, but to ourselves as well.

At my table, Peace brings harmony and tranquility. Peace is so very fragile and is often not seen. But on this day of Thanksgiving, we pray for a day with peace; the absence of war and the presence of an undisturbed state of mind.

At my table, Friendship surrounds us. In Friendship we can see each other's face; warmly supportive; deeply loved; and, forever forgiving. Friendship helps us to remember that we are not alone in our endeavors and we can not achieve greatness without each other.

At my table, Hope cautions us on our expectations. Hope, in its purest form has no expectations. Hope offers us solutions. Hope inspires us. Hope brings the future to our table.

At my table, Patience steadies us. The stresses and tediousness of our lives often leads us to forget patience. Patience gives us strength, fortitude and stoicism to endure.

At my table, Charity prevails. Charity lights our love for humankind. With charity we can lighten our hearts with benevolence, affection and goodwill. Charity does not judge others.

At my table, Forgiveness asks us to forgo our anger. In forgiveness we can give up our resentment and eliminate our desire to punish. And like Respect, Forgiveness reminds us that it not just for others; we must learn to use forgiveness for ourselves.

At this season of Thanksgiving, I pray that these guests come to my table each and every day. I pray that they can find a seat at yours as well.

World AIDS Day 2009 and Christopher James Harris

December 1st is World AIDS Day 2009. Tonight I am going to attend our local AIDS Benefit Foundation fundraiser. I will wear a pretty dress, pin on the ceramic red ribbon my nephew gave me many years ago and I will see some old friends of Christopher James Harris.

We lost Christopher, at the age of 32, in the spring of 1996. During those first six months of that year there were over 22,000 deaths from AIDS related illnesses. At that time, the worldwide death count was more than 1.5 million since HIV/AIDS was first identified in 1981. Chris' death was the first of many AIDS deaths that I witnessed up close and personal.

I can still remember wheeling Chris into the emergency room for the first hospitalization of many to come. It was 1992. Chris was my nephew and godson. He was tall, blond, tanned and beautiful. He was one of my closest friends. Chris lived with me during the four years he battled the AIDS virus. It was a brutal fight. And fought we did.

Chris quietly came "out of the closet" in the late '80s. I say "quietly" because he and many of his friends, while "out" had yet to turn the light on. The masses of the uninformed still believed that you could contract AIDS from just being around a gay man. Actually, Chris often cringed and cautioned me to wear gloves when I was helping him cope with an episode. I never even thought of "catching" AIDS; I just wanted to comfort him, make him better and help him laugh.

The day he was diagnosed I ran to the bookstore and bought every book there was on AIDS. There were only five in the store and the clerk gave me a frightened look as he rang up my purchase. In the hospital, Chris was hiding the books in the drawer when people came to visit. "We can't tell them", he would say. I said, "we have to tell them." We had to turn the lights on!

During the next four years, Chris and I went back and forth to Providence Hospital. Providence was the only hospital in the area at that time that would take AIDS patients. I would bring picnic baskets of his favorite foods to help him gain some weight. I would hold the pan in front of him as he got sick from the mega drugs being pumped into him. We would fight over what we would and would not tell the rest of the family. He didn't want them to know how much he was suffering. He was a wonderful actor; he hid his pain and fear well.

We talked openly about the disease, his life and his impending death. For in those days, AIDS was indeed a death sentence; a short duration from diagnoses to the end. I was told, by his doctor, at his funeral, that Chris had four years more than he would have had without me. I hold on to those words to this day. I wanted so to save that wonderful young man; that sweet young boy who once told me he wanted to be a pilot so he could travel with me around the world.

A day does not go by that I don't think of him. He made the best cup of coffee and there are days that I wish he was still here to do so. We laughed in the face of adversity. We laughed privately as we recounted the reaction some people had when they learned that he was gay and ill.

I think of him everyday. On December 1st, would you think of him too; and say a prayer. Say a prayer for Chris and all of the 33.2 million men, women and children who live with HIV/AIDS worldwide.

I miss him. His family and friends miss him; and there are his nieces and cousins who have "missed" knowing him.

I'm going to get "a round tuit"

My "to do" list keeps growing. I stay busy and the days seem to zip by me. There are some things on that list that have been there for almost a month. I keep telling myself that I will get to it on Monday; and then Friday arrives and I say again, "I'll get to it on Monday."

While getting my dose of news this morning and listening half-hardily to a feature piece, I heard, "you have to be uncomfortable to get better at what you do." While I agree that discomfort can be a motivator, I question whether any great achievement truly comes from "negative" motivation. It's like those "to do's" on my list; they will get done because they have to get done, but how well they get done is the question.

A former business colleague of mine used to, repeatedly, tell me that the only two, true, motivators of human nature are fear and greed. I didn't manage my business that way and I don't manage my life that way either. Perhaps you can deduce fear and greed as the common denominators for any motivator. You can turn a pig's ear into a silk purse with deduction, logic and reason.

I prefer to think my best results have been motivated by the desire for self-fulfillment. The end result is what motivates me; whether it is perfectly accessorising that new dress or raising $100,000 for my favorite charity or making it to Mass on Sunday morning or recycling my trash.

We are motivated by our basic needs of food, shelter and clothing. We seek recognition, love and affection and aspire to contribute to the greater good. We want to be remembered and leave a legacy for those that follow us. The question of motivation is really "what are your priorities" and what incents you to achieve and obtain those priorities and accomplishments.

The root of the word "motive" is "motion": causing or tending to cause motion. What "moves" you is your incentive to "move".

I am "moved" by other's creativity. I read; I see; I listen; and then I want to be a better person. People incent me; not the desire for things. The "things" are the trappings of achievement; and the "things" are sometimes not things at all. It is the love, respect, security and recognition that motivated me in the first place.

There are steps I must complete to put me in the position of moving my life in a positive direction. Some of those steps include the necessary and laborious tasks to meet our obligations. It is those tasks that remain on my "to do" list. Maybe I'll get "a round tuit" on Monday.

Sarah Palin scares the crap out of me!

This is not a political statement; it is a feminist statement. I will say it again: Sarah Palin scares the crap out of me. I believe that she has one of those personas, that you either love her or hate her. I repeat - she just scares me. She scares me because she is put upon us as a role model for women.

Let's move the politics aside for a moment; although, I admit, it is very difficult for me to do. Palin is a strong, beautiful woman; now she needs to be quiet. When I point to role models for young women she is no where to be found on my list.

She claims to be promoting women; promoting the power of women; telling her story of making choices and being "maverick-y". Why does she then frequently portray herself as a victim? Listen to her accounts of the 2008 campaign. She takes no responsibility for contributing to adverse public opinion or mistakes she made. It is always someone else who put her in the position. Palin "let" the Republicans treat her like a puppet and promote an agenda of pseudo-equality. She is forever the "beauty queen" who fails the questioning category.

Palin blames "bad campaign management" for her interview with Katie Coric. Excuse me, was it such a stretch for her to actually name a newspaper she read; not even the Wasilla Gazette came out of her mouth. Actually, based on that hemming and hawing I am even surprised that she knew who Katie Coric was. If you listen to her, Palin believes her only mistake was to let others manage her. A truly strong woman isn't "managed".

She is a master manipulator. The media has promoted her to celebrity status; she blasts the media and how "they treat her" and there she is - on a media blitz. Smiling and winking her way to front page coverage.

Palin criticizes everything (except "huntin' and fishin' and hockey moms") but offers no suggestions for solutions. "Drill baby drill" is not a solution.

She was put on the Republican ticket in 2008 because she was a woman. I feel, as a woman, that she threw us under the bus. In this era, women need leadership to support issues pertaining to our bodies, our livelihood and our children. Pseudo-equality just isn't good enough anymore.

Palin quit her job as governor; not to find other outlets to serve her community, state or country, but to write (ghost) a book to serve her bank account. That's fine Sarah, but just admit it. Don't pretend that your book will have any earth shattering impact on the world as we know it.

I want women leaders who are accountable and take responsibility and admit to their mistakes. I want women leaders who won't buckle in the face of adversity. I want women leaders who don't whine and point fingers at others. I want women leaders who embrace their children and at the same time hold the hand of the rape victim during her abortion. I want women leaders who can be regarded beautiful because of their intelligence and creativity. You betcha, I want a lot.

Palin scares me because she is being lauded as a female role model. Not on my list.

If you don't get older, you die young

There are many family members and friends celebrating birthdays this month. Some are excited about the "milestone", some are apathetic and some are down right annoyed that they have to add another year to their age. My father always said, "if you don't get older, you die young." Is that why we celebrate? The fact they we have survived another year?

Some birthdays are recognized as a right of passage. Turning 18 or 21 welcomes one into adulthood. Depending upon your jurisdiction, you can now vote, possibly buy alcohol, drive, purchase lottery tickets and enlist in the military. You can also be sued and tried as an adult in criminal court.

Reaching 50, 55 or 65, welcomes you into "old age". When I was in my twenties, we feared 30; the age which we could "no longer be trusted." Catholics and Anglicans confirm twelve and thirteen year olds in religious adulthood. The Jewish faith taps their twelve and thirteen year olds with a bar mitzvah or bat mitzvah. In Islam, the legal age for girls is 9 and 15 for boys. In the U.S., sweet sixteen is a coming out party for many young girls; while the Hispanics celebrate quinceanera marking the girls' 15th birthday.

We make holidays out the birthday of presidents, explorers and civil rights leaders. Elvis's birthday is marked by a huge pilgrimage of fans to Memphis, Tennessee. We bow our heads in memory of departed family members on their birthdays and pray on our "Saint's Day."

According to public record, birthdays are generally, evenly distributed throughout the year. However, according to Anybirthday.com there are more birthdays in October and September, respectively. The most frequent birthday is October 5th; and, the least frequent birthday is May 22nd (I actually know two people who were born on May 22nd). The September and October births are attributed to the nine month period following the holidays of Christmas and New Year's. I guess the November babies are the result of those cold, northern winters.

Origins of the birthday celebration are rooted in superstition. In the early centuries of Western civilization, it was believed that evil spirits were particularly attracted to people on their birthdays. In ancient times, people prayed over an open fire, believing the smoke would carry their thoughts and wishes to the gods. So it seems, to protect the birthday girl or boy from harm, friends would gather to bring good thoughts and brought gifts to provide even more cheer to ward off the evil spirits. Eventually the "open fire" was replaced by the candles. Up until the fourth century, Christianity viewed the birthday celebration as a pagan ritual. I guess that changed after they threw the Pope and birthday party.

We gather at the birthday celebration for food, drink and cake. We stack candles on the cake and the birthday person makes and wish and blows the candles out. We bring presents, cards and decorate with balloons. We chronicle the day with photographs and sentiments. The birthday person is the center of attention. We spend years perpetuating that special attention and then after I while we hope it gets overlooked. Remember what Daddy said, "if you don't get older, you die young:" so put on your Sunday best and smile for us. . .we love a good party.

Deviance is in the eye of the beholder. . .

The news cycle, this morning, covered a little boy who refuses to stand for the Pledge of Allegiance in his Arkansas grade school class. The 10 year-old, fifth-grader, Will Phillips said that after a week-end of "analyzing" the pledge he found it "not to be true." Sitting with his father, in a CNN interview, and wearing a tee-shirt with the the slogan "Nerds 2[squared](4) Ever" he further explained that while the pledge cites "liberty and justice for all", ". . .it is simply not true." "Gay and lesbians are discriminated against and there is still lots of racism in this country." "Liberty and justice does not apply to all."

Solid reasoning for a ten-year-old; solid reasoning for anyone of any age. What disturbed me about the interview was not young Will's behavior, but Will's father calling his son's action "acceptable delinquency". Delinquency? The Constitution gives Will the right to remain seated during the Pledge; so what's with the reference to "delinquency"? Outspoken, yes; precocious, maybe; delinquent? I don't think so. I am continually amazed at the negative reaction that a word will evoke. Such a label will stigmatized and is likely to promote negative attention.

I am reminded of an essay I wrote in middle school - "My Deviant Family'. I wrote about the eccentric and sometimes outlandish behavior and opinions of family members; artists; protesters of social injustice; a few hippies. I brought my "A" paper home to show my parents. My mother was appalled; my father chuckled. Mom began ranting and raving at me, "what was I thinking; didn't I know that the word deviant meant bad things?"

It didn't. I used the word deviant in the purest form of the definition: departing from the usual or accepted social standards and norms; violation of social norms. I tried to reason with her that deviant behavior was a perception of something different from what was generally practiced. Perhaps I was, too, precocious.

People define different things in different ways. Deviance, like delinquency, is not necessarily "criminal" or bad behavior. Your view of deviance is just something that does not follow your point of view. There are admirable forms of deviation; in fact some behaviors are publicly evaluated in a superior sense.

I am in no way condoning bad or criminal behavior. I am pointing out how we can do great injustices by labeling a person with a word of negative connotation. We also must be cognizant that word connotation differs among us. Deviance is in the eye of the beholder.