Thinking Out Loud

Christmas Comes

2011-12-21T12:05:00.000-05:00

Christmas Comes

Life is Art!

A Reflection for Reformation Sunday

2011-10-30T09:34:00.000-04:00

A Reflection for Reformation Sunday

Life is Art!

Divine Love versus Divine Destruction - Charlotte spiritual growth | Examiner.com

2011-05-20T12:04:00.000-04:00

Divine Love versus Divine Destruction - Charlotte spiritual growth | Examiner.com

Life is Art!

Home | Examiner.com

2011-05-06T10:41:00.000-04:00

Home | Examiner.com

Life is Art!

Death & Dying - Charlotte spiritual growth | Examiner.com

2011-02-25T17:16:00.000-05:00

Death & Dying - Charlotte spiritual growth | Examiner.com

Life is Art!

A Garden in Winter - Charlotte spiritual growth | Examiner.com

2011-02-05T09:48:00.000-05:00

A Garden in Winter - Charlotte spiritual growth | Examiner.com

Life is Art!

My Part in the World - Charlotte spiritual growth | Examiner.com

2011-01-11T13:29:00.000-05:00

My Part in the World - Charlotte spiritual growth | Examiner.com

Life is Art!

Neil Pasricha: The 3 A's of awesome | Video on TED.com

2011-01-07T17:01:00.000-05:00

Neil Pasricha: The 3 A's of awesome | Video on TED.com

Life is Art!

Update

2010-07-17T21:39:00.000-04:00

Time flies doesn't it? One minute I'm writing daily and the next, I'm teaching at-risk youth every day. I'm too old for this I think...but I love them. Where does the time for writing come when there are lesson plans to write and well, I'm older now. Hard to keep up with the teenagers who are so wild and needy.

Today there was gardening and the making of homemade blueberry jam. Reading a book by a local author while the pets sat round. A call from my love and all is right with the world. There is so much life to live. Never enough time to live it all.

"WhenI admire the wonder of a sunset or the beauty of the moon, my soul expands." ~ Mahatma Gandhi

Angels with human faces.

2010-01-04T17:06:00.001-05:00

Angels with human faces.

Posted using ShareThis

Spiritual growth is nurtured by those who live in the moment

2009-06-12T11:20:00.001-04:00

Spiritual growth is nurtured by those who live in the moment

Posted using ShareThis

Shades of Gray, Green and Blue

2009-05-02T16:40:00.008-04:00

The question was simple, "Are you going to the kitchen?"

I'm sure my partner wanted a simple "yes" or "no" answer. She's been frustrated with me before when she's only wanted yes or no answers and I give long, drawn out answers. So, true to my nature, I pause and answer, "I'm going to put clothes in the dryer." I want to be honest and specific. Even as I answered, I recognized the absurdity in my explanation since our dryer is right there in the kitchen in a closet.

Lucky for me, my partner loves me. There was no aggravation at my extended explanation even though SHE knows the dryer is in the kitchen. I think she's becoming accustomed to my idiosyncrasies, my unusually response to life and its events. She listened and then patiently continued,

"Can you get me a coke while you're down there?"

Now THAT question I could answer with a yes. There were no ambiguities in the question. As usual, I analyze a simple interaction the entire time I'm putting the sheets in the dryer and taking a coke to her in the loft where we both have desks. I see a part of me that has tried to surface before. I am not a black and white person. I see the world, life in shades of gray or green or blue. There have been instances where I thought my compunction to explain came from my upbringing by strict parents who always required me and my sister to explain things that sometimes we couldn't explain because we were kids or teenagers who didn't know better. Sometimes we couldn't explain things because we didn't understand the question or we thought the answer was so obvious it didn't need explanation. "Why do you want to become a music major," was a question I never thought needed explanation and no matter how many answers I gave none were sufficient. My sister's questions of course focused on her life's desires, "why are you in such a rush to get married?" We had dreams and thought we were to grow into those dreams even if they differed from our parents' dreams for us, even if our decisions brought copious questions about the meaning of our choices. As a child, I asked so many questions about why, maybe they fostered and fed my parents' own questions of "why?" The song I loved most and identified with most is one found in the movie, Yentl and titled, "Where is it written." When Barbara Streisand sang the first phrases to the song the recognition of self so great I felt hope.

There's not a morning I begin without a thousand questions running through my mind,
That I don't try to find the reason and the logic in the world that God designed.
The reason why a bird was given wings, If not to fly and praise the sky
With every song it sings.

What's right or wrong,Where I belong
Within the scheme of things...
And why have eyes that see and arms that reach
Unless you're meant to know there's something more?
If not to hunger for the meaning of it all,
Then tell me what a soul is for?

A question that many think requires a simple "yes or no" has never been simple for me. Perhaps there was some undiagnosed problem I've always had, but questions, even the simplest questions have always generated thousand more questions. The world wants yes or no or this or that and I ponder. I've always needed more time to think on things before giving an answer. As I've aged, I remember the blessing of watching my Grandpa Whitley sit on his front porch pondering wheat and I realized that I understood him and his pondering and his solitude. How can a simple request for a coke send me into such analytical thinking, deep soul searching? Needless to say, not many people "get me" but my partner now does and as a result, there are answers coming that I never expected to find. Sometimes my kind love's feelings are hurt because my need to explain (when none is needed) seems like a questioning of motives. There have been those times of course, but as I age and heal from past hurts through her loving me, I'm beginning to see that this excessive explaining has more to do with all the shades and tones I see and feel to life.

I remember one Saturday as a kid riding with my mom in her dark green Monte Carlo. We had just turned left at Big Lick's Trading Post to go to downtown Oakboro. I don't know what I asked her, but I remember her answer, the brightness of the day, the stillness of my sister in the backseat as though it were now. Mom's answer was, "Robin, I don't know the answer to that question. Only God knows that answer." Oh how I loved God even more in that moment for God could answer all my questions. That's the moment when I began questioning God; not questioning God's existence but to pray. Yes, that is the moment I began to pray and as we all know, answers to prayers don't always come soon or easy. Sometimes they do, but more often than not, they are silent answers that we must grow into…and there are always those questions we must ponder for a lifetime. Sometimes the lesson comes as Rilke writes as "learning to love the questions." Others call it living the mystery.

The irony for me is that our world demands this or that, black or white, now or never and nothing in life is really "either or". This is a world of shades, tones and the both "this and that". Christianity exhorts us to "live in the world but not of the world" while we can no longer stand the mysteries. We want answers or the Dragnet response of "just the facts ma'am." We can't sit in silence because the questions come with no answers. Even as I write this essay I ask myself, "what is the point of this?" Mystery. Explanation. Thesis or conclusion. Where am I going with this writing? Where am I going with my life? What are you doing and what are your questions?

The sky is a shade of gray today. That doesn't mean it will rain, just that the sky is different than blue and that doesn't make it bad or wrong. I look over the mountains on this spring day and my eyes behold hundreds of shades of green as the trees bloom for the year. Even when the blooming and the pollinating stops, the shades of green on the mountain will vary with the wind or rain; from dark forest green to the shimmer of silver green fluttering in the wind. The sky moves from blues and grays to pink and purple over the mountains. Oranges and reds sing and sometimes scream the glory of life flaming on the horizons of today. In the shades of gray sky, day turns into night and yet, it's all still good and right and mystery.

All my love asked for me was this question, "Are you going to the kitchen?" and my mind rides a storm of questions with no answers and no reasoning but my dreams have been that too. The day calls for answers and I have none so instead I write my ponderings and give thanks for those who listen. Life is full of blessing. It's all good. Mystery reigns.

There's not a morning I begin without
A thousand questions running through my mind,
That I don't try to find the reason and the logic
In the world that God designed.
The reason why
a bird was given wings,
If not to fly and praise the sky
With every song it sings.
What's right or wrong,
Where I belong
Within the scheme of things...
And why have eyes that see
And arms that reach
Unless you're meant to know
There's something more?
If not to hunger for the meaning of it all,
Then tell me what a soul is for?
Why have the wings
Unless you're meant to fly?
And tell me please, why have a mind
If not to question why?
And tell me where-
Where is it written what it is
I'm meant to be, that I can't dare
To have the chance to pick the fruit of every tree,
Or have my share of every sweet-imagined possibility?
Just tell me where, tell me where?
If I were only meant to tend the nest,
Then why does my imagination sail
Across the mountains and the seas,
Beyond the make-believe of any fairy tale?
Why have the thirst if not to drink the wine?
And what a waste to have a taste
Of things that can't he mine?
And tell me where, where is it written what it is
I'm meant to be, that I can't dare-
To find the meanings in the mornings that I see,
Or have my share of every sweet-imagined possibility?
Just tell me where- where is it written?
Tell me where-
Or if it's written anywhere?

Gratitude and Blessing

2009-05-01T08:45:00.001-04:00

A lot can happen in a week's time. Classrooms full of learning students can create a painting a day in some classes and in other classes, chaos rules. My sweet cat Egypt died suddenly on the day of my last wedding rehearsal for the spring. We cry hard for the cat but go to the wedding rehearsal to rejoice with the newlyweds and bells ring, fiddle, drum and flute follow the merry tune of the guitar. Resurrection is the message. Life after death comes with dreams of soul partners turning into reality, into bliss. While the fiddler plays the Shaker tune, "Simple Gifts" it feels as if my furry friend sent the message, "It's all good Robin, it's all good." While I believe in the goodness of life, that phrase has never been something I would say to anyone. Life is unpredictable and the irony of it all is that in the midst of sadness, grief and turmoil joys happen. Friends gather round to sing and laugh making memories of happiness overriding the grief.

Then Monday at the high school a moment of silence. A young boy, a sophomore, dies from an accidental overdose. I had only met him once when he was causing difficulties for the substitutes, but I knew him. A kid who overdosed wasn't just a face in the paper, but he was a little taller than me (so he was a bit short for a guy). He wanted to make trouble for us that day but at the same time, he exuded the energy of youth. Who would have thought that life could be so tenuous for such a strong boy, for such a young boy. Risks, daring, they have a way of doing us in when we least expect it and all in the name of having a good time. A minute of silence on a Monday for the boy turns into a student here saying she knew his sister and the sister is not able to talk about it yet. Then three young girls talking about how they knew them all their lives because they lived in the same place near Cherokee and went to the same school all their lives. What is teen grief? How can they process grief that is so fresh and new to the young spirit? Tell the stories of Brandon I tell them. Talk to each other. Remember all the good things he was and comfort each other. The next minute they are laughing and painting pictures of fairies or masks though one girl paints a remembrance picture of resting in peace.

I've wanted to write about the power and goodness of life in the midst of grief, death and loss this week but have found no words. More people lose jobs. Our 87-year-old mom living with us gets her income cut and all I can think is how glad I am now that she lives with us so that she doesn't have to face that kind of loss alone. Teachers in North Carolina have a cut in pay and the local community college received word that they will no longer be able to purchase periodicals. The cut in the library budget wasn't just for the frivolous magazines but ALL magazines. Can you imagine a library without magazines? Schools without good teachers? Then our locals' favorite beach, Myrtle Beach still battles a wildfire and the grief and loss continues. How do we make sense of it all? What keeps us going each day?

Then this morning I awaken to a morning of spring rain. This is the rain we need for gardens and water tables to be restored, renewed refreshed. After walking the dog, all I can think about this morning are the wild violets and strawberries, the new ferns springing up on the hillside, the dogwoods still blooming in the woods. As Bear and I walk down the hill from the house, we can see a small cloud wrapped around Pump Mountain. I've wanted to write about the events in this week, events that are not mine alone. Children die young and pets move on. The young and old battle disease and our economy is as unpredictable as the weather, but I wanted something good to tell you too. As I started typing this, I could not stop thinking of the forest coming alive as the earth is renewed and I realized I could run outside and take pictures of the new life. So I did. Look, it's all good even on cloudy days! I did not lighten these photos but took them in the gray of the morning.

A flame azalea blooms like fire:

Rhododendron color the mountains

Our paths are strewn with blessing

Some things grow wild

and other good things we have to choose and plant in our lives.

It's all good and you are important.

As I took these pictures my heart began to soar out of the sadness of the week and move towards hopefulness. It's all good says my cat and she is right. As I took last picture, a new spring rain began to fall.

Presence, The Red Lamp

2009-04-15T10:29:00.004-04:00

In early morning light I see

red upon the hill,

shiny bright light in the brown of the wood,

shining eternal light of God down the mountainto my home?

I look closer to see sunlight

flow through red waterfood for hummingbirds.

I remember the homeless poem

I promised to write.

How the homeless haunt me;

the man sitting in the rain in a park in Charlotte.

He was an attorney who lost his family she said.

Rain continued to fall as he sat there on the bench,

so I took him my rainbow colored umbrella.

Large canopy of color in my hand,

I said, "Here this is for you," and he looked blankly

at me, but took the umbrella.

"Don't give them money," the dictum of all city dwellers.

So I gave him my umbrella

little comfort to me.

What happened to him? To his family? What gray day destroyed him?

At the end of the day,

when the rain had stopped and the sun began to shine,

outside my office door leaned the umbrella gently in a corner.

The homeless man nowhere to be seen.

A colorful yet silent thankfulness dripping wet in the corner.

The homeless are nameless birds

roosting on our corners,

sleeping on park benches, streets, sidewalks, warm doorways.

Relatives by loss and often mental illness,

they are connected by a cardboard sign

and some same black magic marker.

Who gives the marker?

Odd questions always come at the wrong time.

Once I knew her name, for she lived on my street

or nearby in the woods where rapes happened.

She had multiple personalities

that she argued with as she walked by.

Once, after a stint in jail,

she was lucid and clearly intelligent.

She was forced to take her meds there.

The officer said she would be fine

if she could just stay on her meds,

but they are expensive and

how do the homeless get prescription cards?

The last I saw her she was arguing with her other personality,

the one that was belligerent,

"Why didn't you take that sandwich she offered? I'm hungry!"

"I asked for money and I want money!"

One Christmas I gave her a small token gift,

wrapped in pretty paper with a bow.

As I write, I know it was more for me than her.

She still was gracious and kindly thanked me.

As she walked into the dark woods,

she celebrated the the shiny bow

as precious.

Beauty,

a gift given in nature

by light, trees, water.

We celebrate these beautiful things,

these places that are the wild

where our homeless live.

In Columbia South Carolina,

there once was a river city of homeless.

Their cardboard houses constantly taken down.

The average homeless person walks ten miles a day.

Nobody wants them.

Keep them out of the neighborhood

away from the rivers and bridges.

That is not my daughter, sister, mother.

Not my brother, son, father.

Mother Teresa said that when we look in another's face,

we see Christ.

Presence.

The red lamp in the church is

about the presence of God,

shining light into our dark places.

We always have hope.

Even if we are Christ of the homeless,

Christ's face is homeless.

You

too could be homeless

or light.

You are the light of presence.

Red light shining down

love,

kindness, a meal.

Bread of life.

Tabernacle of the holy.

Feed the birds.

Shine your light.

The hope is you.

Thich Nhat Hanh - Peace is every Step

2009-03-12T10:11:00.001-04:00

This video sound is not excellent but the message is powerful.

My Music Available on iTunes

2009-02-13T10:39:00.001-05:00

I now have four of my original songs available on iTunes! This is exciting because this also makes my songs available to online radio stations, Napster and Rhapsody!

If you don’t have a iPod or access to iTunes you can go to this link to listen Tunecore

Coming soon, jazz standards with Chad Hallyburton on jazz guitar!

Life is Art!

Rattle and Hum

2009-02-12T11:23:00.004-05:00

Rattle and Hum

Hum the word
Chant the spirit live
in you
in me
The word lives
rattling around
in our spirits
our lives
and shaking our soul.

Thinking Out Loud: Quitting

2009-02-09T14:35:00.000-05:00

Thinking Out Loud: Quitting

Life is Art!

Quitting

2009-02-09T14:32:00.001-05:00

The Whitley and Poplin families are full of hard working people who could give the Energizer Bunny something to think about without even a need to beat a drum either. Of course, both families tend to march to a different drummer and both sides are stubborn. Needless to say, the words "I quit" aren't something I've heard much in my life and I've never said them until the other week. In an attempt to make a job for myself, volunteered to do some web design but need to let go of some "thing" that would free up my time. Overbooking, over scheduling, over doing has always been a downfall for me. The more I thought about my quitting I wondered if I spoke a double meaning. The work was for the Western NC Diocese GLBT website. I was just a volunteer, but to continue to read the struggles, the hurt, the loss the church continues to dish out to the GLBT community well, enough for me. I quit. That's what I said. I quit. I'm tired of fighting, struggling just to be. It felt so good to say, "I quit" that I decided I was going to make sure and say it to the people at Living Waters in Cherokee. They are after all an ELCA congregation, the church who got rid of me.

Then on Sundays, I am there in the midst of those sweet, giving people. All they want is a place to sing and pray. I remember the vows of my ordination that the Lutheran Church cannot rip from my heart no matter what they vote. Vows of ordination are between the ordinand and God. There is a small Lutheran church in Cherokee needing a pastor as they lose the one they have now. They don't need me I'm sure, but they keep asking me to come. Come sing. Come preach, come teach. Each time I tell myself "one more time and then I quit." The pastor, Mary Louise Frenchman, says to me, "Robin you know you love doing this. You don't want to quit," and she's right. I love serving God, teaching music, teaching scriptures. Today I go to teach music. Each time I go I love the people more and the path between here and there seems shorter, the cost of serving not so hard. Yet, I know where the ELCA stands and it still hurts. There will be more hurt to come; it's a gift the church continues to give. "God, it still hurts," I say. Today I sit here thinking and praying of how I can gracefully get out of this gig. Maybe I need to give up and quit on every church. That would be easier wouldn't it? Then, I receive a message from my dear friends in Tallahassee, or a simple note from my friends at St. David's in Cullowhee. A woman who was once one of my youth members at St. John's writes a beautiful note to me and I know I can't quit no matter how it hurts. Jesus never said it would not hurt to love, to care, to seek to live a godly life. Jesus just said, "Follow me."

While I'm working on this blog I'm also listening to music I've recently added to my Nano. A song I've not heard in years, and that I've forgotten begins to play. The life of St. Stephens' Lutheran reaches to me here again, as they always do. When I was there in 1992-1993 Pierce Pettis' wife and children were members and I bought this CD after meeting with him. The song says it all as I sit here crying and seeking to listen to God on how to continue this different but sacred path:

I Will Be Here (by Pierce Pettis)

Make a lot of money

make a lot of friends,

when you lose that money a lot of those friendships end.

When you lose that job, lose that house

lose that car lose that spouse,

I will be Here.

You spend a lot of time

till there no time left.

You become such a stranger you don't even know yourself.

You can never write, never call

you can surround yourself with walls

but I will be here.

I am the friend you cannot lose

I am the one you did not choose

I am the friend who loves you still

I am the one who will always be here

I will be here

Oh yes I will

It would take a lot of work

to drive me away

I can take a lot of hurt.

I'm willing to share your pain.

You don't impose

You don't intrude

I'll never turn my back on you, no no.

I will be here

An eye for an eye,

man that's such a bitter rule.

It was only made to be obeyed by fools.

There is no debt there is no score

forget it, that's what friends are fore

yeah yea, I will be here

I am the friend you cannot lose

I am the one you did not choose

I am the friend who loves you still

I am the one who will always be here

I will be here

Oh yes I will be here.

Om Mani Padme Hum

2009-02-05T09:39:00.001-05:00

This is an excellent version of the Tibetan Chant for compassion.

2009-01-30T10:55:00.002-05:00

Sometimes, there are no need for words.

There are still tears…

2009-01-22T13:02:00.004-05:00

As we begin the first term of a black president (with multi-racial and multi-cultural background), I find myself at a loss of words. I know I should be grateful and I am for the most part. I am proud that in the past forty years we have made strides large enough to have a bi-racial president. Like many of the people interviewed, I did not think I would live to see that day. Many changes have happened in my lifetime but racism is still alive in the South and I was born in the south. Our household had been watching the Martin Luther King specials for a celebration of the civil rights movement and then to move from that reminder of a hopeful and non-violent "I have a dream" to the inauguration of Obama was powerful no doubt. Our household cried along with all those who stood watching on the Mall in Washington. We cried tears of joy to see the fruition of years of struggle, loss and now hope.

What saddens me is that in the inaugural speech Obama was excellent in including most everyone in his speech. Most everyone, BUT the Native American. I know the argument is that you cannot cover every race in this melting pot that we call America or the United States of America, but to omit the original inhabitants is egregious. My friends told me later that there were Native Americans in headdresses in the parades. I read online at http://www.indianz.com/News/2009/012759.asp "Indian Country celebrates Barack Obama presidency." The omission of Native Americans in the inaugural speech concerns me, not for Obama's omission but because of our national tendency to forget those things that make us uncomfortable. I am a supporter of Obama so this is not an attack as much as it is a realization of America's continual blindness to the Native American community and the harm we caused to these native peoples. Many of them were enslaved but even worse, the government in throughout American history went one step further with the Native American community as they sought to annihilate them.

The most famous and most recent event of destruction of the Native American people is called by many The Trail of Tears or the Great Removal. The Trail of Tears was genocide on a National level. http://www.nativeamericans.com/TrailofTears2.htm. In 1830 the government passed the Indian Removal act, an act introduced by the man John Qunicy often called "the barbarian", Andrew Jackson. "

The Indian Removal Act allowed the U.S. government to force America's native people into the already established region, West of the Mississippi River known as Indian Territory. The Act hastened the relocation of the, so called, "Indians," that had already been going on ten years, since 1820, to Oklahoma. The Sauk from Wisconsin, the Fox Iowa, the Chickasaw and Choctaw from Mississippi, and the Creek from Alabama hadbeen almost completely relocated within five years. By that time President Jackson had negotiated ninety-four removal treaties, and was able to claim the process had been completed with the exception of a handful of Indians. Under one treaty for example, the Choctaw, realizing they had no real choice, agreed to trade 10.3 million acres in Mississippi, for 10.3 acres in Indian Territory."

http://www.cliftonunitarian.com/sermons/TrailofTears.pdf

To call the action a "removal act" betrays the truth of what happened between 1820 and 1839. There is historic record showing the murder of the American Indian throughout the development of this country. Read John Burnett's (Private John G. Burnett, Captain Abraham McClellan's Company, 2nd Regiment, 2nd Brigade, Mounted Infantry, Cherokee Indian Removal, 1838-39) story told at his 80^th birthday http://www.powersource.com/cherokee/burnett.html :

The removal of Cherokee Indians from their lifelong homes in the year of 1838 found me a young man in the prime of life and a Private soldier in the American Army. Being acquainted with many of the Indians and able to fluently speak their language, I was sent as interpreter into the Smoky Mountain Country in May, 1838, and witnessed the execution of the most brutal order in the History of American Warfare. I saw the helpless Cherokees arrested and dragged from their homes, and driven at the bayonet point into the stockades. And in the chill of a drizzling rain on an October morning I saw them loaded like cattle or sheep into six hundred and forty-five wagons and started toward the west.

As more archaeologists and historians work to write the story of North America, we read of how the white man brought disease and violence to the indigenous people http://www.theatlantic.com/doc/200203/mann all out of greed, the search for gold, and the race for land.

The historical events called "The Indian Wars" occurred as native peoples tried to protect what was rightfully theirs (see chart below of Indian Wars). The "founders of America" wiped out entire tribes of people and yet, it is the Native American who gets short shrift in the celebration of this monumental inauguration. The only mention was in The Rev. Joseph E. Lowery's prayer stating, "…in the joy of a new beginning we ask you to help us work for that day when black will not be asked to get back, when brown can stick around, when yellow will be mellow, when the red man can get ahead man, and when white will embrace what is right. Let all those who'll do justice and love mercy say amen."

Now we can understand why Joe Garcia, the president of the National Congress of American Indians (http://www.ncai.org/) , responded to the Interior Department's pick of Ken Salazar with skepticism stating,

"My brothers and sisters, we cannot let our guard down. The minute we do, we will suffer."

Many Native Americans live in poverty and most have forgotten tribal history, knowing instead only oppression, betrayal and murder. We have come a long way in our country, yet even now, there are still tears….

___________________________________________

Wars and Battles

The following is a representative survey of conflicts between Native Americans and Europeans over three centuries.

Conflict	Dates	Location	Summary
17th Century
Powhatan Confederacy	1622-44	Virginia	Following an initial period of peaceful relations, a 12-year conflict left many natives and colonists dead, but the remaining colonists were victorious.
Pequot War	1637	Connecticut and Rhode Island	The death of a colonist eventually led to the immolation of 600-700 natives. The remainder was sold into slavery in Bermuda.
King Philip's War	1675-78	Massachusetts and Rhode Island	Philip's attempt to drive out the settlers, beginning at Swansea, Massachusetts, led to slaughter on both sides and his own death.
Pueblo Revolt	1680-92	Arizona and New Mexico	Led by Popé, Pueblo Indians threw off the Spanish yoke and lived independently for 12 years. The Spanish reconquered in 1692.
French and Indian War	1689-1763	Eastern Woodlands	A contest between France and Britain for possession of North America. For various motivations, most Algonquian tribes allied with the French; the Iroquois with the British.
18th Century
Tuscarora War	1711	Northern Carolina	The Tuscarora under chief Hancock attacked several settlements, killing settlers and destroying farms. In 1713, James Moore and Yamasee warriors defeated the raiders.
Yamasee War	1715-1718	Southern Carolina	An Indian confederation led by the Yamasee came close to exterminating white settlement in their region.
Pontiac's Conspiracy	1763	Ohio River Valley	Warrior chief Pontiac and a large alliance drove out the British at every post except Detroit. After besieging the fort for five months, they withdrew to find food for the winter.
Lord Dunmore's War	1774	Southern Ohio River Valley	Alarmed tribes raided a wave of traders and settlers. Dunmore, governor of Virginia, sent in 3,000 soldiers and defeated 1,000 natives.
Old Northwest Warfare	1790-94	Ohio and Indiana	Following two humiliating defeats at the hands of native warriors, the Americans won a decisive victory under "Mad Anthony" Wayne at the Battle of Fallen Timbers.
19th Century
Battle of Tippecanoe	1811	Wabash and Tippecanoe rivers, Indiana	The Prophet, brother of Shawnee chief Tecumseh, attacked Indiana Territory Gov. William Henry Harrison's force at dawn. After hand-to-hand combat, the natives fled.
Creek War	1814	Georgia and Alabama	Militiamen under Andrew Jackson broke the power of Creek raiders who had attacked Fort Mims and massacred settlers. They relinquished a vast land tract.
First Seminole War	1816-18	Florida	The Seminole, defending runaway slaves and their land in Florida, fought Andrew Jackson's force. Jackson failed to subdue them, but forced Spain to relinquish the territory.
Black Hawk War	1832	Northern Illinois and Southwestern Wisconsin	The last native conflict in the area, led by Chief Black Hawk. An unsuccessful attempt by the Sauk and Fox tribes to move back to their homeland.
Second Seminole War	1835-42	Florida Everglades	Under Chief Osceola, the Seminole resumed fighting for their land. They retreated into the Everglades; Osceola was captured. They were nearly eliminated.
Navajo Conflicts	1849-63	Arizona and New Mexico	Persistent fighting between the Navajo and the U.S. Army led to their expulsion and incarceration on an inhospitable reservation far from their homeland.
Sioux Wars	1854-90	Wyoming, Minnesota and South Dakota	Moved across the Mississippi into "Indian Country," the Sioux under Sitting Bull and Crazy Horse resisted waves of settlers and prospectors, to keep their hunting grounds.
Rogue River War	1855-56	Southwestern Oregon	Attacks on Rogue River Valley Indian people were meant to start a war that would employ miners unable to work because of a drought. Indian survivors were forced out to reservations.
Third Seminole War	1855-58	Florida Everglades	Under Chief Billy Bowlegs, the Seminole mounted their final stand against the U.S. Bowlegs surrendered; he and others were deported to Indian Territory in Oklahoma.
Apache Attacks	1861-1900	New Mexico, Arizona, Texas and Mexico	Rejecting reservation life, Apaches under Geronimo, Cochise and others staged hundreds of attacks on outposts. Geronimo finally surrendered in 1886; others fought on until 1900.
Ute Wars	1865-68, 1879	Utah	The Ute nation rose episodically against the whites. Mormon settlers were relentlessly overtaking Ute lands and exhausting their resources and wildlife.
Modoc War	1872-73	Northern California and Southern Oregon	Captain Jack and followers fled from their hardscrabble reservation to the lava beds of Tule Lake, where they held out against soldiers for six months. He was hanged.
Red River War	1874-75	Northwestern Texas	William T. Sherman led a campaign of more than 14 battles against the Arapaho, Comanche, Cheyenne and Kiowa tribes, who eventually surrendered.
Battle of the Rosebud	1876	Rosebud Creek, Southern Montana	Lakota and Cheyenne under Crazy Horse turned back soldiers commanded by General George Crook, thereby cutting off reinforcements that might have aided Custer at the Battle of the Little Bighorn.
Battle of the Little Bighorn	1876	Southern Montana	George A. Custer and 250 soldiers under his immediate command confronted Sioux warriors on the Little Bighorn River and were wiped out in the ensuing fight.
Nez Percé War	1877	Oregon, Idaho, Montana	After fighting to keep their home in Wallowa Valley, Chief Joseph led his people on a 1,700-mile retreat to Canada. They surrendered near the border to Nelson Miles' soldiers.
The Wounded Knee Massacre	1890	South Dakota	Following the killing of Sitting Bull, Big Foot took command of the final band of fighting Lakota (Sioux). They were trapped at Wounded Knee Creek and destroyed by the U.S. Army.

Off-site search results for "Indian Wars Time Table"...

Lauber, Indian Slavery in Colonial Times within the Present Limits of the United States. Table of Contents
... by Dinsmore Documentation TABLE OF CONTENTS PART I: INDIAN SLAVERY AMONG THE INDIANS, THE SPANIARDS, AND THE FRENCH Front Matter:Title Page, Dedication, Preface, Detailed Table of Contents I. Enslavement by the Indians Themselves II ...
^{http://www.dinsdoc.com/lauber-1-0a.htm}

Time Table of the Lowell Mills
Time Table of the Lowell Mills, October 21, 1851. Courtesy of Baker Library, Graduate School of Business Administration, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass ...
^{http://invention.smithsonian.org/centerpieces/whole_cloth/u2ei/u2image ...}

Indian Wars
"The Indian wars are not over,'' said Ron Lincoln, a member of the Tribal Council and a leader of the traditionals, made up mostly of the Lincoln and Peters families. "It's still the same old trick of divide and conquer the Indians. Once the ...
^{http://www.albionmonitor.net/9-2-95/indianwars.html}

Census data

Internet Release date: 06/10/98

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

                                    American

                                  Indian          Asian and

                                        Eskimo and       Pacific           Other

                     Total        White               Black         Aleut            Islander            race

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Total 1/.....................   51,475,834              45,603,184     3,566,986    473,348       1,619,665     1,586,229

Source: 1990 Census of Population and Housing, Public Use Microdata Samples.

Inauguration of Healing

2009-01-20T10:38:00.010-05:00

We are all snowed in here in the mountains of Western North Carolina. As a result, we get to watch the inauguration celebration. As we watch and we listen to the commentary of reporters and regular people like you and me, we have decided that today is a day of healing for our country. The commentators are comparing the crowd in Washington today to the pilgrims to Mecca in the size of the crowd as well as the behavior of the crowd. Even as I type this a reporter says, "I've never seen such spirit like this before," after commenting on the orderliness, the kindness of the crowd and the general joyousness and hope that the people carry with them to the capitol.

Today we are seeing not just the inauguration of a new governmental leader but also a leader who ran a campaign based on HOPE! Can you believe it? Sunday afternoon our household was watching the 1978 movie, King: The Martin Luther King Story with Cicely Tyson as Coretta Scott King and Paul Winfield as Martin Luther King. Right as the movie began addressing some of the sacrifices of those in the Civil Rights movement the movie was interrupted for a speech by Barack Obama, our president elect. and again the message was one of hope and we saw with our own eyes the power of non-violence! Martin Luther King's message was one of love and nonviolence and the movie showed the consistency of that message as it covered the years 1954 through 1968. King was even willing to go as far to make a sacrifice to non-violence to protest the Vietnam war at the expense of his reputation. The cost of hope is high and healing does not occur without sacrifice of some sort.

The powerful reality we are experiencing right now is that in the period of forty years we as Americans, we as a group of people filled with hope and belief in the goodness of all people and the rights of each individual have made a difference. There are countries around the world still struggling for the most basic rights that we as Americans take for granted. While we were watching Good Morning America this morning I received a call from my dear Francois, whose mother and family still live in the Congo. Francois was a student at UNC-Charlotte when I was a chaplain there and he's felt like my adopted son ever since. He was in the US because Mobuto had started another killing spree of students and his mother helped him to escape. The Congo still suffers as you can read on the International Rescue Commitee's (IRC) website:

The IRC calls The Congo the Forgotten Crisis and states,

Conflict and humanitarian crisis in the Democratic Republic of Congo have taken the lives of 5.4 million people since 1998 and continue to leave as many as 45,000 dead every month, according to a 2008 mortality survey released by the International Rescue Committee.

From 1960 to this day, The Congo is still in war and crisis. During that same time that we as Americans have been so blessed to see these major changes for the good in regard to civil rights, The Congo is just one country who continues to struggle for the most basic rights of human dignity. I use this one country as an example to emphasize the power of good, the power of hope and the power of non-violence.

Obama's campaign was run on the "Audacity of Hope" then "Yes, We Can" and Obama continues to speak of hope and hard work. We as Americans have mDade great progress in civil rights in my lifetime. If we as a country can make this big change this year like we have, today is the inauguration of healing a universal wound of discrimination. Today is just the beginning. We can live lives of acceptance and empowerment, yes we can. We can make choices that empower countries like The Congo, Iraq and Afghanistan without violence. Yes, we can do this, and our history is now proof of the power of non-violence. Gandhi in India was only one person, but he chose to act non-violently in a way that empower millions. Martin Luther King was only one person and a person in a minority as well and his commitment to justice and non-violence paved the way to today's inauguration. We are a part of this. We can continue this goodwill, we can continue to live in hope and act in kindness rather than in violence. We can do this and today is a definite "Yes WE CAN" to the power of our goodness. The world is watching us now, not just our politics. May we continue in this peaceful, hopeful path in the days to come.

INVOCATION
from The Geranium Farm

Creator and sustainer of the universe, known in so many different ways by so many different people, we rejoice today in the privilege of living in a society in which peaceful political change is possible. We rejoice in our power to do a new thing, to act on our beliefs and to amend our ways. We rejoice that today marks a milestone in our life together that many of us thought we would live and die without seeing. We rejoice in the witness of all who gave their lives so that we all might inherit freedom, and we pledge ourselves to be worthy of their sacrifice, to strive always to be the people they died believing us to be. We ask your blessing upon Barack Obama as he takes up the heavy burden of his office. We ask your blessing and protection upon his family as they share him with us, and upon the challenging life into which they now move. And we ask your blessing upon all of us, that we might find, each of us in his or her own way, the means to support his leadership and develop our own, for the benefit of all people everywhere. All of this we pray in unity of heart and purpose. And let all the people say, AMEN.

Life is Art!

Watching and Waiting

2009-01-17T05:28:00.006-05:00

The times now are those of watching and waiting. What else is there to do in an economy as a downward spiral sucks you into its eddy of disaster and ruin? In listening to people in the grocery, in the coffee shop and in reading the news, I realize just how blessed I am. Yes, I lost my job three months ago and have yet to find another, but I have a good home and finally I have a good partner who supports me…not just financial support when I can't make a payment but how wonderful to know that I don't face criticism or derision for things that are beyond my control. Markets are out of balance, unemployment is at all time highs and the scarcity of jobs, well, these are not issues that I can create much less control. Of course, then we think about our new president elect, a human being like you and me, many ask or wonder how he is going to resolve this problem. Therein lays our challenge as a nation. While we are free to elect our national leader, that does not mean we abdicate our power or responsibility. Each of us is responsible for our actions in this time of watching and waiting.

Many say to take action, but action without thought is dangerous in any time and situation. Now is not the time for impulsivity, that's what got us here in the first place. Our national impatience to make money, buy the next technological gadget or assume that the world will jump when the USA says jump has gotten us into trouble. Cat Stevens' (now Yusuf Islam) old song "Trouble" begins to play in my memory:

Trouble, oh trouble set me free. I have seen your face and it's too much, too much for me. Trouble, oh trouble can't you see, you're eating my heart away and there's nothing much left of me.

I've drunk your wine, you have made your world mine so won't you be fair, so won't you be fair. I don't want no more of you so won't you be kind to me, just let me go where I have to go there.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N9qkn7OlbM8

A long time ago, it became clear to me that life is ultimately fair; life picks on no one, life just happens. We choose our own troubles a lot of the time and in this current climate, we are face to face with the consequences of our impulsive and greedy choices in the past eight years. The new president elect has been criticized for his policies before he has even taken office. The collective "we" looks for someone to blame that the troubles the US has brought upon itself but without thought or reflection upon the "I". What have "I" done to create this climate of financial disaster? What have "I" done to contribute to global warming? What have "I" done by keeping silent in the face of gross injustice? All eyes are on Obama and his new administration. We watch and we wait in anticipation. We are focusing so much psychic energy in the direction of this new administration that the team has to feel our watchfulness.

While we are in this time of watching and waiting, there are questions we must pose. Are we watching and waiting for another governmental rescue that only builds up more trouble? On the other hand, are we willing to watch our own actions and see how each individual choice represents a responsibility, a contribution to the demise or restoration of the current social and economic problems ripping through the heart and lives of America? We did not get into this trouble alone and we cannot expect one person or twenty people to turn this trouble around. While we are waiting and watching, it is time to take responsibility that we are finite, our resources are finite and as individuals, while we cannot solve all the problems at once, we CAN make a difference to the whole.

One

Poetic phrases come to mind
Whenever I find injustice being done
And I wonder, what am I gonna do
What can one do except to be one
Talking to two, touching three
Growing to four million
Each of us is one - all of us are one

I go through phases when I realize
It wouldn't be wise to try and bring it down
And I wonder, what am I gonna do
What should one do except just be around
Staying alive, putting out love
Growing to five billion
Each of us is one - all of us are one

Open your heart and let the love come shining through
And you will do what you need to do
To know just where the other you is coming from
He is one - she is one
A tree is one - the earth is one - the universe is one
I am one - we are one

It just amazes me that I can be
Part of the energy it takes to serve each other
And I wonder what am I gonna do
What can one do
Except be one
Each of us is one - all of us are one
We are one
What am I gonna do
Be one.

Music and lyrics by Carole King http://www.caroleking.com/index.php

__________________________________________

CAROLE KING CONFIRMED FOR TWO INAUGURAL EVENTS- JANUARY 15, 2009, WASHINGTON, DC - The Presidential Inaugural Committee (PIC) has just announced the talent lineup for the Official Events for the 2009 Inaugural Celebration. We are pleased to announced that Carole King has been chosen to appear at two of these events.

On Sunday morning, she will be performing at the Finance Welcome Brunch, which will also include appearances from BeBe Winans, Yolanda Adams and the Dartmouth Gospel Choir. Monday night, she will be the featured talent at the Bi-Partisan Dinner to honor Vice President-elect Joe Biden.

"The talent we have selected reflect the diverse musical traditions of our nations, truly making this 'America's Inaugural,'" said Emmett Believeau, PIC Executive Director. "As we seek to make this the most open and accessible inaugural in history, we have selected a full slate of top recording artists that we think will provide something for everyone."

2009-01-15T14:29:00.001-05:00

This article is listed here with the permission of the writer, Vidya Carolyn Dell’uomo
who is as kind as her article suggests. Please share her vital message with others.

Experiments in Love

by Vidya Carolyn Dell’uomo

To beautify this world, we must carry out experiments in love.
—Swami Kripalu

It was July 13, 1980, a steamy Sunday afternoon in southern Pennsylvania. Beads of sweat were forming on our brows as we sat in the fragrant meditation hall waiting for Swami Kripalu to speak. Dressed in the traditional saffron-colored clothes of a swami, he was not unsettled by the heat. He had been living at the Kripalu ashram in Pennsylvania for three years, having come from his native India, where he had practiced the science of yoga for nearly three decades. Every Sunday he taught the community in his native language, Gujarati, translated by the head of the ashram, Yogi Amrit Desai. I had arrived early that day, pen and paper in hand, ready to record his wisdom and to let the decades of his spiritual practice illuminate me. Little did I know Swami Kripalu would do more than illuminate. His words would set a fire of spiritual truth in my heart that would sear its way into my personal and professional life in ways I could not imagine.

In his discourse, Swami Kripalu encouraged us to grasp the truth that love is the most potent force of life. Like great teachers before him, he proclaimed love to be the essential prana, or energy, of all spiritual practice. “Even after attaining all the things of this world,” he said, “life will not be worth living even for a moment in the absence of love.”

Conducting experiments in love, he continued, is the most powerful spiritual practice … and an act of socially engaged spirituality. His words were rooted not in New Age cliché but in a conviction born from decades of practice and inquiry. He warned that in living a path of love we run the risk of being perceived a “fool” or “too sentimental.” He reminded us, “To love is to suffer. One who cannot tolerate pain cannot travel the path of true love.” The lives of great teachers like Christ; Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.; and the Buddha demonstrate that love’s practice in the face of hostility, despair, and even death, is anything but sentimental. As I listened, the seeker and scientist within me became curious about considering love a “science,” and taking up its practice in experiments that would reveal its lessons.

Suspending his teaching between bookends of silence, Swami Kripalu paused and then emphatically resumed, “Spirituality is not within books, nor is it merely within temples or churches … It is in our homes. Our close ones are thirsty for love. Break through the barriers of the reservoir of your love.”

Sitting there that day, my heart could not deny these truths, and yet they challenged me. I was being called to integrity. I had been “beautifying the world” by teaching transformational workshops, doing my spiritual practice, serving my clients—but what about my closest relationships? “Understand the power of your love,” he had said. “The first place to conduct experiments is within your family.”

I thought of my father, someone to whom I waited my whole life to speak the words “I love you” and to hear them back. What if I conducted an experiment with him? What if I opened the “reservoir of my love” and wrote my dad a sincere letter disclosing to him my hope for more closeness? Doing so would mean the risk of putting my heart forth and not being understood or received. I was willing to risk this, knowing that in science there is no failure, only learning. And that yes, in matters of love, there is always the possibility of pain.

In merely thinking about my letter, I encountered the fear of rejection, the awkwardness of authenticity, and how easy it is to keep the heart closed and protected. My “love in the family experiment” was already reaping rewards of self-awareness—and the envelope hadn’t even gone into the mail.

I eventually sent the letter. Waited weeks, then months. No response. Disappointment, regret, anger ensued. I witnessed the feelings. I worked with them through yoga, meditation, journaling, softening until both mercy and insight emerged. Reality finally presented itself—there was no way my father was going to write me back. How was he going to respond to me in ways he hadn’t experienced himself? I was expecting a level of engagement from him that was familiar to and valued by me, not him.

I recognized this expectation of like-for-like engagement, having seen it in my couples’ work all the time. When it’s not met, we typically shut down or skeptically move forward. A third option exists, however, that allows it all to be there. This is the experiment of openness—doing our best to stay open and hold both the humanness of discouragement and the heart’s aspirations of love. But it’s easier said than done.

openness

Our mind has a much better time of it when our relationships are either-or. It’s simpler, cleaner, clearer. We either like somebody, or we don’t. We don’t have to ride the swinging door of contradiction between caring for our loved one in one moment, then resenting them the next. But holding both is, in fact, holding what is real. We both love and defend (or offend), at the same time. And it hurts!

But to practice tools that keep the door of our heart oiled versus rusted or slammed shut is what we are called to. It may be yoga, walks in the woods, worship, meditation, therapy, service, prayer, or reflection—anything that quiets the mind, softens the heart’s holdings, and allows the light of insight to occur. These practices allow love to find us and for us to make peace, first with reality, then with ourselves. “Love comes looking for us,” writes Swami Kripalu. “Every living being stands in a stream of love.”

To simply remain open in difficult times is an experiment in love in and of itself, and in the end it may be the hardest of them all. We resist allowing a relationship to remain unclear, grey, undone. We want to fix it. The capacity to stay suspended in the midair of openness is strengthened, however, by two other experiments Swami Kripalu urged for Westerners: patience and surrender.

patience

Swami Kripalu said, “Those who want to plant the seed of love in their heart will have to nourish it with the water of patience. Impatience can be the cause of the destruction of love … If we are not patient with our loved ones then how can they be patient with us?”

For some, the swing between patience and impatience is bound in time. We’re too over-scheduled to receive a long-winded loved one. Or we want to neaten up the pain of a breakdown before it has run its course. Sometimes it’s about judgment, wanting another to be “more conscious” (like us!), grow up fast, or fill a need. An experiment in patience will reveal these things. In the instance of my father, my impatience had to do with wanting him to respond in the way I wanted: affectionately, verbally, and immediately.

surrender

For those of us in the West, surrender is no easy task. To “let go” in a relationship and do nothing for a while, allowing time, openhandedness, the circumstances of life, and, yes, grace, to converge and guide the way seems antithetical to our enculturated ethos of being “responsible” and in control. But there’s nothing irresponsible about surrender. It can be the wisest and most courageous experiment, especially when a relationship with a loved one is at an impasse, or we need to replenish. (“During struggle, if you feel weak,” said Swami Kripalu, “it is all right to retreat for a while. There may be helplessness in retreating; but there is not an absence of bravery.”) Letting go allows the tides of time and the ebb and flow of faith to do their work. We cannot be certain of the outcomes, but things will change. “Can you remain unmoving until the right action arises by itself?” asks the ancient Chinese book of wisdom, the Tao Te Ching.

In the example of my father, a year passed after my letter experiment. I followed it with another experiment, based on the lessons of the first. I extended to him an invitation to Perkins, his favorite pancake place. Dining out, just the two of us, was a first. With syrup soaking into our pancakes, a squeaky leather booth holding us, my father looked at me with tender, Italian eyes and said, “Carole … ” (“Here it comes,” I thought. “Here it comes!”) “I’ve been wanting to talk with you about … your health insurance.”; It wasn’t hearts and flowers, but it was my father’s way of saying “I love you.” Thanks to my previous experiments, I finally heard it. With delight I blurted back, “I love you too!” He flushed, and proceeded to talk about insurance premiums.

Nearly 15 years after our pancakes at Perkins, while mowing the lawn on a hot June day, my father suddenly died. He was there one moment, gone the next. Just. Like. That. The experiments in love with my dad became, in the end, a preparation for meeting his sudden death with a certain sense of completion. Amid the overwhelming loss, I was consoled by the sweet remembrance of our intimate meal and the love that was expressed. My experiments had taught me how to lift the veil of “my way” and see the treasure of love before me.

On that Sunday in 1980, Swami Kripalu taught me a lesson for life—that “experiments in love” are always available to us, regardless of the status of any relationship. Now, in every workshop I teach, I invite participants to consider an experiment in love. I ask them to close their eyes, imagine a flower, and see it opening, revealing the image of a loved one. Invoking their heart’s wisdom, I ask them to sense an experiment, no matter how small. I remind them of patience, surrender, staying open for lessons that come with no guarantees. No matter what the outcome, our experiments in love create movement in our hearts, evolve the love within and between us, and also prepare us for the inevitable reality of parting.

Vidya Carolyn Dell’uomo is a pioneer of Kripalu’s yoga teacher training, mentoring, and self-discovery programs. She is currently teaching, coaching, and consulting worldwide and working on a book entitled Sitting with Swami Kripalu: Seven Teachings to Last a Lifetime.

Life is Art!

Surrender

2009-01-08T11:02:00.006-05:00

My artist friend, Lois Bryan, started something this morning…a memory of surrender, a memory of recognizing the goodness in surrender in a world when the word has come to mean weakness rather than strength. http://www.redbubble.com/people/loisbryan/art/2358618-4-sweet-sweet-surrender

How ironic that she associated John Denver's song, "Sweet Surrender" with her photograph of an old farm. As our society "progresses" more and more of our farmland, our wilderness areas and the beauty of nature is surrendered to the hard cold reality of pavement. See, even I am now focused on the harsher meaning of the word surrender. Of course, it doesn't help that when there is a war movie or story somewhere there is talk of surrender as part of losing a battle. Even our own government alludes to this fear of surrender in current talks about Iraq.

The beauty in Bryant's work is that she reminds us of something we all need in this day and time and that is to surrender to something beautiful. For those of you who are not and never were John Denver fans I hope you will look at this song as a poem:

Lost and alone on some forgotten highway
Travelled by many remembered by few
Lookin' for something that I can believe in
Lookin' for something that I'd like to do with my life

There's nothin' behind me and nothin' that ties me
To somethin' that might have been true yesterday
Tomorrow is open and right now it seems to be more
Than enough to just be there today

And I don't know what the future is holdin' in store
I don't know where I'm goin', I'm not sure where i've been
There's a spirit that guides me, a light that shines for me
My life is worth the livin', don't need to see the end

Sweet, sweet surrender
Live, live without care
Like a fish in the water
Like a bird in the air"

These words are not words of losing a battle, but of discovering something bigger than war: embracing something more than yesterday. When we lie in the arms of our loved one, we surrender the self, body and soul to our love. When we surrender to life there is a vulnerability that is scary because life is so unpredictable and without control. We think that by fighting and resisting we are winning some existential war when all we are really doing is hindering our life from growth. Surrender. Stop fighting your panty hose, stop fighting traffic, and just let things be for today. Breathe, surrender to the fresh air or at least the fact that you can breathe. Surrender is about letting go of a specified, controlled end. So what if you aren't the lawyer, teacher, doctor that your parent wanted, are you at least fully YOU? If not, surrender to the reality that you are enough, just as you are. What was your reaction to that statement? Even though I know the beauty of surrender, there is also much trust in the act, the thought of acting even. When I wrote, "surrender to the reality that you are enough just as you are" my heartbeat raced. Perhaps it is excitement racing in my heart that after all these years I might just get it; understand that surrendering to my life is good. Right now, it feels a little more like fear but doesn't the newest adventure make your heart race a little in fear too? Fear of the unknown, fear of failure, fear of success, there are so many things we can allow to trap us and keep us from life.

Surrender. Give it up. Let today be today with no expectations. Trust yourself. Allow others to just be. Surrender to the goodness of now. Surrender to the fact that even if now is difficult you are still here, still breathing and that is a good, blessed event. Surrender. Kinda scary, somewhat exciting. Go ahead, try something new, surrender.

Global Warming, the Reality

2009-01-06T00:46:00.003-05:00

There are skeptics that want to say that global warming is not real, just a way for millions to make money off those of us who care about the earth and notice changes. Look at the trouble the scam artists of the global warming movement have gone to or perhaps global warming is more of a reality than we think:

A last minute Christmas Eve shopping scene in Myrtle Beach might actually look like this. There were seagulls everywhere. The photographer was prone to loss of balance so she took only the photos of those seagulls on the ground. The problem is, this wasn’t Myrtle Beach, but Albemarle, NC, county seat of Stanly County in the Piedmont area of the Carolinas Total Estimated Time to the beach is by MapQuest's standards: 3 hours 24 minutes Total Estimated Distance: 153.44 miles.

So why did I choose Myrtle Beach, SC as the reference point for the coast when North Carolina has many coasts as well? While Myrtle Beach is 153 miles from Albemarle (but the drive seems so much longer when driving through all that boring flatland of SC), Albemarle Sound, is farther, Total Estimated Time: 5 hours 54 minutes Total Estimated Distance: 315.53 miles.

I doubt that MapQuest's timing is as a gull flies, but still, why all the gulls so far inland in and did I mention that Christmas is still in mid-December? Like 3 days after the season we once called "winter" begins. Remember that season when white stuff falls and I don't mean seagull droppings?

I'll be the first to admit that I'm not much of a shopper, so perhaps seagulls in parking lots far away from the coast is a regular sighting to shoppers who frequent malls. That could be part of the problem; we are leaving our climate in the hands of people who are more concerned with shopping. I know once we could argue that the seagulls were migrating right? Maybe Jonathan Livingston Seagull got too far off base with his freedom message and these are all of his descendents. All I can say is that it's not natural by anybody's reasoning. Sea gulls have a key word, SEA, that sets them in a definite ecology and I don't think it was meant to be a sea of parking lots. Asphalt gulls; is this we are coming too? Moreover, the worst part is, the gulls are probably there waiting for McDonalds, there's not a Long John Silver's in sight.

Dante's Prayer

2008-12-31T18:28:00.001-05:00

The first times I heard Loreena McKennitt’s song and music for Dante’s Prayer I did not know the title of the piece only that it spoke to my deep sadness, to my loss. I was lost in the dark night of the soul that I was not prepared for and there seemed no light but stars in a vast darkness and those were far, far awa. The plea, “Please remember me,” I cried out to God as if God could forget, but it was so dark, how could God be there in that abyss?

“When my dark night seems endless, please remember me…” I thought that would be my life for the rest of my life; a dark night bleeding on into eternity. The song was a candle in that darkness, but a candle better than no light at all. Someone told me then to “always go to the light.” In that time of darkness, there seemed no light and only the song of others.

Today I listen to this song of darkness and remember my own inferno of trial, dark paths into the unknown. I hear the song anew and know on this side of the darkness, God remembered. God remembered me.

Mother's Wisdom

2008-12-31T18:27:00.000-05:00

Life is funny;
Sometimes laugh out loud funny
sometimes just weird funny,
but mostly ironic funny.

Only a day ago I was so annoyed
at my mother.
This morning I hear her voice
speak through my own voice a hard truth.

One of the strong gifts of my mother
is her eye and heart for justice.
She can see the truth and speak it.
People hate it when you speak
the truth.

So, she’s not always discerning
in her daughter’s lives.
She makes mistakes like the rest of us.
Humanity just bites that way.

But the gift of her truth,
I have that too…
even though I’m rarely as brave
or daring.
The truth is not timid,
requires a lion’s heart.

Justice is my mother’s wisdom
and I love her for that

A Poplin Christmas Carol

2008-12-22T22:30:00.001-05:00

Tradition, holiday events are filled with tradition. For many families those traditions are wearisome, problematic. For the Poplin family, it was a time we came together to celebrate. The celebration first started around the dining room table at grandma and grandpa Poplin's. This started as early as the 50s as you can see in this photo. The little girl on the right is my mom who looks to be about 10 (she was born in 1940). Uncle Firth and Uncle Claude were in the service with one stationed in Germany and the other in Japan. While this photo is in black and white, all of my cousins will recognize this setting of this photo. We could list years of the same shot taken as our family members aged.

After a huge covered dish meal and after washing the dishes this clan started migrating towards the piano in the living room at the front of the house. Of course, while the dishwashing happened the children were checking out the tons of gifts under the cedar Christmas tree that stood behind the old player piano. Grandma and grandpa always cut a fresh cedar tree from the land across from their house then decorated with the big old Christmas lights. As you can see from the photo, they had a big family in the 50s so by the time everyone had kids and grandkids, well Christmas was BIG at Grandma and Grandpa Poplin's. The older picture above was of the first generation of Poplins. Their house was modest and so space was cramped later as the grandchildren were born, at least three generations were packed into this house to celebrate and sing.

We all came in the front door at Christmas because the living room is there on the right. The stairs were full of kids dressed in the Christmas best and Christmas excitement. In this waiting picture are Blake, Gregory and Ryan on the top stairs, Leslie and Megan on the bottom one .

The house smelled of the food cooking down the hall and the scent of the cedar tree in the living room. Children giggling and adults greeting each other, these are the first sounds to awaken the house to Christmas magic. The cedar tree was decorated with the large old timey lights that looked like this…only bigger.

Since a cedar tree's limbs are not as stiff as a fir tree's limbs, the effect was often comical as the cedar tree limbs drooped under the weight of the large, heavy bulbs. The bulbs were a fire hazard we were always told, and the smell of the cedar tree intensified the longer the bulbs were lit, our own family version of Christmas aromatherapy. There are some things you cannot recreate on a computer and there are no "aromas" like the natural scent of a cedar tree. A cedar tree smells like a fir tree only stronger. In the south, the cedar tree is prevalent and its shape is naturally that of a Christmas tree. The cedar was the only tree grandma and grandpa had up until they were too old to cut down their own cedar tree. Once cut down, this bushy tree was placed in the small living room behind the refurbished player piano. Here is a piano that looks like the one beside the tree. I don't have a photo of the piano at Christmas where there is a frontal view. There was barely room for mom to sit at the piano due to the small room packed with a tree, presents galore, excited children and singing adults. Grandma's piano looked exactly like this, even to the point of having similar music books.

While the meal was prepared, the adults visit and the children wait…kinda:

Buford and Grandpa Poplin waiting for dinner. Grandma Poplin with Aunt Wadene and Aunt Virginia in the kitchen.

1Uncle Jerry, Uncle Rob and Cousin Leslie wait near the tree.

Blake and Gregory in the room with the presents, the tree and the piano. These little guys are now big guys, but they are still friends.Aunt Margaret and Taya (who turned 16 last week).

Children, adults, packages, happiness and Christmas magic gathered around the old piano to sing carols while my mom played.

People who sing understand that there is nothing more lovely than family voices that blend in familial similarity. It has been over eight years since we last gathered at grandma's to sing and that is the one thing all of us cousins miss. One of the songs we sang around the piano was "My Favorite Things", from "The Sound of Music."

Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens
Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens
Brown paper packages tied up with strings
These are a few of my favorite things

Cream colored ponies and crisp apple streudels
Doorbells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles
Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings
These are a few of my favorite things

Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes
Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes
Silver white winters that melt into springs
These are a few of my favorite things

When the dog bites
When the bee stings
When I'm feeling sad
I simply remember my favorite things
And then I don't feel so bad

Julie Andrew's Version: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dw2VX5wQYQg

Cousins Singing, Ronda, Norma and Tracy 1

Grandma died years ago and still we all long to sing together around the piano. Every cousin I talk to at Christmas talk about missing the carols around the piano, singing with family is still one of our "Favorite Things" although we all live across the US from our home place in North Carolina to Nova Scotia, to Houston, Texas. The memory of singing around the piano meant Christmas to us at the Poplin household. I can still feel Uncle Claude hug me as we sang and hear his daughter, Marsha harmonize. Brigitte and Norma came up behind the cousins who were short and draped arms lovingly over our shoulders as we sang. Children too young to know the songs, shuffled at our feet, looking for packages under the tree with special names from special people not understanding yet that it was the family above them singing that was the real gift. It's by nature that my family was drawn to singing, we were naturally musicians even when some chose to be engineers, others moms, teachers, secretaries or chemists. Music was the place we came together at grandma and grandpa's house over Christmas.

Grandma and grandpa are gone now and my mom can no longer play the piano due to blindness. The magical house was sold in an auction…but the magic of the Poplin Christmas Carol lives on in our hearts. Grandma and Grandpa, we are still singing.

Here's to my cousins, my niece and nephew, my sister, "Merry Christmas. While I might not be singing with you these days, whenever I sing a Christmas carol you are there with me in my heart, my memory and my voice. I love you all, Robin

December - Thursday 2008

2008-12-04T08:51:00.000-05:00

Time is an interesting development. We use it for the demarcation of our days but to what end? We measure it to the point where nanoseconds can be measured and light years quantified in hope that we can have definitions and perhaps control over events and occurrences in this world, this place we call "our lives". Meanwhile, time keeps ticking like a time bomb, waiting for that moment of explosion where there is only the now; the now seen in sacred gift or tragedy we never know and therein lies the mystery and the fear.

Election Day in Western NC

2008-11-04T17:34:00.000-05:00

Election day started out by getting out there to find health insurance since I lost my job the other week. The first stop was the hospital where I still have a bill. While I waited two groups of children came in, got paper hats from someone at the front desk. As I walked past one of the groups a little girl said, "We're going to be doctors." I responded, "That's great I can't wait till I get an appointment with you." She suddenly looked nervous as she turned to her little friend saying, "It's only pretend."

The lobby was full of people. Sick people, visitors or people like me, I couldn't tell. Finally the woman in the business office came out and when we were in the privacy of her office, gave sympathy at the loss of my job. Her sister just lost her job of 26 years at the phone company. Like my experience, her sister had no warning and is afraid. I didn't ask why her sister was afraid. I was too worried about getting my asthma meds for when the money runs out. Funny thing but insurance companies aren't happy with 47 year old humans with asthma. The woman sends me up the hill to a place to see about getting some meds on the assistance program. The woman up the hill consoled me it would be okay and then sent me with a form to my doctor's office for a referral.

All this time I remembered it was election day and that I should write this blog but all I could think of was the importance of my asthma medicines. Okay, so I probably still need my anti-depressant since I suddenly, without warning lost my job, but breathing is a big habit I would like to keep up. I walk out of the office to the next medical form building down the street. Walking to the community center a car zooms past me, hurrying away from the voter booth. I'm not sure if this is a good sign or not.

As I walk past the voting area the booths are set up and all is calm. Only a few people are in there voting when I go by at 9:00 a.m. and no one looks worried or afraid. This is good I think. We live in a small town and there are no protests, no ugly words, not even signs or political shirts.Today is an important day in history and everyone seems to be going about business as usual.Upstairs I'm told I probably won't get hospital assistance if I get sick, so fear rises a little as I walk back down the stairs and past the voting crowd. There is a crowd now, even a line. The booths are all filled up with a mixed variety of men and women but the racial factor is white. One of the challenges of living here for me has been the lack of color. I miss diversity. Everyone looks calm but me. For them, this is just an election...or is it?

As I return to my car another patient from the doctor's office approaches her car and I see the Obama sticker on her bumper. I have to speak to her and we are both cheered that there are at least two of us in the area this day. Yesterday a car passing me and my friends on the highway was giving us the thumbs up as he passed because we had an Obama sticker on our car and so did he. We live in mountain country, which translates often into Republican territory. Mountain people are known for their dislike of anything new or foreign or different. Obama is different and yet, I see signs around the neighborhoods saying Obama. As go to my car, a woman passes me and looks just like an old parishoner in Florida. The woman's name was Hope. I see this as a good sign.

On this day without a job or insurance there is more footwork to do. As I drive to Western Carolina University and then Southwestern Community College I see Obama/Biden stickers on cars. I don't see McCain signs in any yards and the only sticker was on the bumper of a car from Florida. If they are here on vacation can they vote? I stop by to say hello to my priest who then has his dog, Maggie, bow and say a prayer for me. What a great place. Next, a stop at the Radio Shack and I overhear a covert conversation as the one employee with a blue shirt says to his customer, "I'm not supposed to say anything so I wore a blue shirt. You'll notice I'm the only blue shirt in here." His customer asked him if he voted for Obama and I had to look. When he nodded yes, I whispered my encouragement and agreement. The three of us then laughed like three teens in on some big high school secret.

As I drive through downtown, all is pretty quiet. Mylar balloons of red, blue and silver float over the Old Courthouse at the end of Mainstreet as justice looks on. The streets are quiet even for a lunchtime in Sylva. The next stop for a rake takes me past the new courthouse. I notice all the political signs at the bottom of the hill are those supporting the Democratic party and think how hard the volunteers have worked. I'm pleased. As I walk into Roses I see my first McCain/Palin shot of the two of them screaming on some tee shirt for sale in the men's department. Upon my arrival home, my 87 year old housemate tells me Obama is winning. The time was 4:30 and the polls aren't closed yet but we are still holding on to that hope. In my life of voting, I've NEVER seen North Carolina vote democratic but the Bush years have hit us hard. The times they are a changin' and we can only hope this change is good.

Life

2008-10-15T15:14:00.001-04:00

Sometimes life gives you unexpected things, events over which you have no control. Illness, disaster are hard and you pray they don't happen even though bad things do happen to the good and bad alike. Then there are those times when unexpected blessings abound and what can be said but "Amen" or "Thank you" to the Great Spirit moving through our breath.

Political Musings - JRDog - Hiding behind my Dog

2008-10-09T11:29:00.000-04:00

Behind a dog I hide. I know I know, I'm a chicken. But if you're here on this page, most likely you know me and will be kind. I would love to know your thoughts. Be kind. I am not as tough as I would like but I'm learning.

Check out http://open.salon.com/user_blog.php?uid=6679

Scary Times

2008-10-07T16:41:00.000-04:00

Forget the economy for a moment. It's hard I know but funny how hatred can make one forget everything. Forget smearing. We all know this is politics as usual. However, when a candidate of any source allows for hatred to fester and even adds fuel to the fire, it's time to go. No more palin. Boycott Palin. Don't watch Saturday Night Live or Couric when she is being represented. Don't give her the time of day for she allowed her "followers" to yell out "kill him" in reference to Obama.

No one, not McCain, not Bush, NO ONE deserves this and we as Americans are better than this. Palin is a disgrace to us all. Boycott Palin in all aspects. Stop feeding this fire of hatred before it's too late. Who knows...perhaps it already is too late. The times are scary when our economy fails, yes, but to have someone running for second in charge who stirs up such hatred is too apocalyptic even for me.

Making Art Happen

2008-08-25T11:50:00.000-04:00

2008-08-25T11:41:00.001-04:00

Today's Questioning

2008-07-23T10:07:00.000-04:00

There is this longing in my heart that I guess I don’t understand. As a youth, I thought it meant God wanted me to be a missionary. In college I thought it meant God wanted me to work in the local church as a church musician and youth director. Then, after arguing repeatedly with God, I thought it meant being a pastor. Everyone who knows my story knows the state of this spiritual path. So here I am, eleven years after my dismissal as a pastor and my heart aches and yearns to serve God.

How many times have I heard, “You don’t have to be a pastor to serve God.” Having been raised in a Southern Baptist church, that was a given. The priesthood of all believers was a way of living for our church and I thought all churches. Then, as I joined the Lutheran Church with its “Herr Pastor” mentality (the pastor did everything) I discovered that there were places where the priesthood of all believers was just a theological concept. I’m just saying that I KNOW I don’t have to be a pastor to serve God. I have been saved so many times from disaster and ruin by laity while the preacher, pastor or priest runs to meeting after meeting. I can truly say that the effect of a pastor has had minimal impact on my faith life but the impact of the laity, priceless.

So what’s the deal? Why am I today, eleven years later grieving as if I lost my pastorate yesterday? Why does my heart and soul weep and yearn to serve God as never before, yet better than before, in the church? I have seen and experienced the political exploits of the institution of the modern church. History shows that these political exploits are nothing new. I’ve said all along I don’t want to be a pastor…but yet, something in me is calling. Perhaps I’m asking the wrong questions. It wouldn’t be the first time.

I have tried to stop reading the Bible and rarely read spiritual texts. I go to church sometimes but try not to get too involved. I was afraid all of these feelings and yearnings would come back. They come back anyway. It’s not if I was trying to kill them but at the same time I didn’t want to feed and energize that part of myself because I can’t serve in a church. If you are reading this, you know why so I won’t rehash that so I won’t cry this morning.

I’m trying to redirect that energy, hope and love of God into my photography; trying to develop an art that expresses my heart. I want to be faithful to God above all else. I understand now, that’s all that matters. Yet, what does that mean for a lesbian? I thought working at a camp that serves those with special needs would satisfy my spirit. While it’s better than working at a shipping company, this is still not my place in this world. What place is it that God has planned for me? I hear the words of Jeremiah,

11 For surely I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope. 12 Then when you call upon me and come and pray to me, I will hear you. 13 When you search for me, you will find me; if you seek me with all your heart, 14 I will let you find me, says the Lord, and I will restore your fortunes and gather you from all the nations and all the places where I have driven you, says the Lord, and I will bring you back to the place from which I sent you into exile.

The words sing in my heart from the St. Louis Jesuit tune and I don’t know what they mean. I don’t know how to follow or be faithful and that makes me sad.

In these past years, I have discovered my anger, my helplessness and pain. There has been no one but God in my life to see and guide me through the darkness. Now God has given me a helpmate and I heal, but what for? My heart sings but what for?

I once thought my love and desire for God could make a difference in this world. I must admit that my understanding of that was about changing the world. At this late date I know how futile that is and understand better than I want to the words and meaning of the Ecclesiastical writer, “…all is vanity.” I cannot change myself. I cannot prevent myself from doing things I do not wish to do. All the years I’ve sought to pave the way to heaven have been futile. The good intentions not entirely meaningless but I can see that the intentions were hollow and underlying motives were not seen but there nonetheless. The intentions I thought good, well, only a different type of control, a different way of grasping like Adam. The fundamentalists would quickly say, “What would Jesus do,” and I have to say truthfully, I don’t know. I am not Jesus.

Yet, at the same time, I continue to ponder the meaning of Jesus’ words, “…you shall do these things and even greater things.” At least I am not alone. None of us get it. None of us are doing the great things of Jesus, much less greater things. The gospel writers missed an important message, or had no way of conveying to us how Jesus changed so that he became a living WORD of God. Yes, we see the text and know that Jesus was a great man and did great miracles, but there is some ONE thing that set Jesus apart from other great spiritual leaders. Was it sacrifice? Was it suffering? Gandhi, Mother Teresa come to mind and they understood something too, but what? What is it that we’re not seeing about Jesus? As I write this, peace comes to my heart for now. Perhaps that is the better question, the question my heart is truly asking, “what are you missing?” Who knows? For now, it’s not me, but at least now I have a better question.

Thinking Out Loud

2008-06-28T22:02:00.001-04:00

Hi everyone, I thought you might enjoy my podcast: Sylva, NC - Nantahala Sun

- - J. Robin

Do you realize....

2008-06-25T13:21:00.000-04:00

Jesus was a heretic?

Breath

2008-06-25T13:04:00.000-04:00

I must admit I'm a bit concerned. My food allergies are worsening and more and more cause asthma. Eat or breathe? Both are a necessity. When it comes down to the core of what must be accepted, the answer is clear. While eating may not be a joy with all the limitations there are things to eat just to live. The poor around the world have done it since the dawning of humanity. My selfishness is revealed.

New Podcasts to brighten your day

2008-06-25T13:02:00.001-04:00

I'm working on a new podcast station for music and stories that share the beauty of life. I'm a heretic but not a cynic.

http://jrobin.podOmatic.com/rss2.xml

Wanna tell your point of view

2008-06-25T12:50:00.000-04:00

Be real, honest and kind. Tell your story or the story of another. If it's good we'll publish it. Send mp3 to me at

jrobin@podOmatic.com

Podcasts coming soon

2008-06-25T12:41:00.001-04:00

My Podcast Alley feed! {pca-4de63ef02296b31a550043e298e012e2}

About Love

2008-03-18T10:31:00.000-04:00

I realize I want it all, everything to be about love and move us towards love. We have such crazy definitions that means we are never moving in the same direction. So, is there a different name for love? Something not so profaned by commercialism and religious oppression? Perhaps the word is justice and yet, even that is tainted these days.

Middle Age and other Nonsense

2008-03-18T10:13:00.001-04:00

Today is one of those days when nothing makes sense. Don't know why I keep thinking that one day the planets will come into alignment and my brain and heart will be orbs in alignment so that awareness can be more. More than what, I can't say that I know. That's it really. I'm 46 and the older I get the less I know. Yes, I still learn, read, grow and the perspective only shows how small I really am in the scheme of things. This is not a moment of self-pity, but a moment of truth on this first day of Holy Week for the Christian Church.

Perhaps that's where we all go astray as humans. We seek to contain the sacred into boxes of weeks, days, moments. We anoint, ritualize, analyze to the point that we play God. Worst yet, we don't even see it for what it is. We call it devotion and yet, our very actions shut out God and any other caring human being out of context.

God is. Happening all around, inside out, up and down, God is. What does it mean to let it be that, let God be GOD and let that willing goodness swirl around us? I don't have any answers but I AM seeking to love the questions.

Thinking Out Loud

Christmas Comes

A Reflection for Reformation Sunday

Divine Love versus Divine Destruction - Charlotte spiritual growth | Examiner.com

Home | Examiner.com

Death & Dying - Charlotte spiritual growth | Examiner.com

A Garden in Winter - Charlotte spiritual growth | Examiner.com

My Part in the World - Charlotte spiritual growth | Examiner.com

Neil Pasricha: The 3 A's of awesome | Video on TED.com

Update

Angels with human faces.

Spiritual growth is nurtured by those who live in the moment

Shades of Gray, Green and Blue

Gratitude and Blessing

Presence, The Red Lamp

Thich Nhat Hanh - Peace is every Step

My Music Available on iTunes

Rattle and Hum

Thinking Out Loud: Quitting

Quitting

Om Mani Padme Hum

There are still tears…

___________________________________________

Wars and Battles

Off-site search results for "Indian Wars Time Table"...

Inauguration of Healing

Conflict and humanitarian crisis in the Democratic Republic of Congo have taken the lives of 5.4 million people since 1998 and continue to leave as many as 45,000 dead every month, according to a 2008 mortality survey released by the International Rescue Committee.

Watching and Waiting

Experiments in Love

by Vidya Carolyn Dell’uomo

openness

patience

surrender

Surrender

Global Warming, the Reality

Dante's Prayer

Mother's Wisdom

A Poplin Christmas Carol

December - Thursday 2008

Election Day in Western NC

Life

Political Musings - JRDog - Hiding behind my Dog

Scary Times

Making Art Happen

Copyright 2008 JRobinWhitley

Today's Questioning

Thinking Out Loud

Do you realize....

Breath

New Podcasts to brighten your day

Wanna tell your point of view

Podcasts coming soon

About Love

Middle Age and other Nonsense