Breathe! Even if your crow doesn't fly.

My yoga teacher says the point of yoga is breathing - it's really not about getting my body into all those positions. In fact, she will often modify positions for those of us who can't quite get there. What she does insist on, however, is that we keep breathing.

Recently we were learning "the crow". In the crow only your hands are touching the ground in the final position, and your knees are resting on the back of your upper arms above your elbows. When you are in this position, the crow is said to be flying.

Debra, my instructor, said to us as we were moving into position, "Your crow does not have to fly," meaning that your knees did not actually have to come up onto your arms. I can tell you as a novice, that getting my knees up on my arms was not going to happen that night. I'm glad I have a gentle teacher who doesn't make me feel guilty about being in class and not being able to do it all. My crow was not going to fly.

The position, as I'm learning, is not the point. Breathing is the point. So at the moment when Debra said if you could to simply move into the flying position - she says it a lot better than that, of course - she also almost immediately said, "Breathe!" I did put an exclamation point there on purpose. She's quite gentle, but on this breathing thing, she's downright insistent. Sometimes she simply says, "breathe". But most of the time, it's "Breathe!" and sometimes even, "BREATHE!" Because, you see, at the moment of trying to get our crow to fly, there's this collective sucking of air in the room and then silence because without knowing it we're holding our breath. We're afraid of this position because, frankly, it's challenging, so we gasp and quit breathing. Now, in yoga, holding your breath is not helpful; in fact, if you want to get into various poses, it's downright counterproductive.

Have you ever noticed yourself not breathing as it were when something challenging happens? Something stressful? I've been thinking that what I'm learning in yoga is that this is a great place to start when I'm in a difficult spot in my day, when I'm troubled, challenged, disturbed or in any way aware that all is not well. "Breathe!"

One of the words for God's Spirit in Hebrew is "Ruach" which means "wind, breath, mind, spirit". When I breathe, simply do what my body does naturally, it is an opportunity to be infused with God's Spirit, an opportunity to be full instead of empty, at peace instead of stressed, joyful and peaceful instead of tense or disturbed. But how often we hear this collective sucking of air in the room when things get tense. Suddenly no one's breathing! In life, as in yoga, not breathing is downright counterproductive and makes stressful situations worse, makes it hard for God's spirit to flow in and out and through me.

Pay attention to your breathing. Breathe in and out and realize God is in that breathing. Wow. Your crow may not fly yet, but you can surely breathe!

Contemplation in the post-election: On Bumper Stickers and Glaphre'

Lauren's car is full of bumper stickers - interesting ones.
There are the three Apples, looking a bit like Apple's version of Pac Man, from computers we have purchased;
Outward Bound Alumni sticker - of which she is understandably quite proud;
Dragon Swimming - for her 4 years of high school swim team;
the liturgy-recalling one that says, Peace be with you.

But if I have a favorite, it is this one, no doubt inspired by her years of camping and her more recent Outward Bound experiences:
Go Outside.

Are you wondering what to do with your post election joy? What to do with your grief? (I saw a friend in the store who told me she wore black the day after the election for her morning walk.) I, on the other hand, am jubilant. What to do with your fears that this new day in American history will not live up to expectations? What to do with your hopes?

Go outside!

The many opinions on facebook and my space are driving you batty and you still want the old facebook back? Get off the computer and go outside.

Seriously. For me the fastest way to get back to peace and joy is to go outside. In my case it's my back yard, but it can be anywhere.

Sit
feel the wind on your face
the sun beating down on you
enjoy the moon
and the planets hanging out nearby
breathe
listen to the birds
notice the bats swooping through the darkness
admire the wingspan of the great blue heron rising from the creek
hear the water flowing
notice the rustle of the wind in the trees
enjoy the cool morning air
let yourself get wet in the rain
savor the fall colors
hear the coyotes (or dogs next door) howl
lie in the grass
be still


Glaphre' - prayer of peace
Glaphre' a wise teacher on prayer, once taught me a prayer. It is a prayer for healing, and I spent many hours praying this prayer when Austin was so sick. I have come to realize that it's a prayer for healing of many things, and it is so appropriate now as we desperately need to be healed from our divisiveness - particularly among those of us who call ourselves Christians.

The prayer starts this way: Go outside! Find a place that is green if you can. It might be your back yard, a park or a nearby body of water. Sit comfortably. Breathe. Notice your breathing - don't try to control it.

And then pray:

Lord, this is your creation; it is at peace.
I am your creation; let me be at peace.

Pray it silently, or quietly out loud. Sit for as long as you can - 5 minutes; 15 minutes; 30 minutes. And pray the prayer, slowly, contemplatively, quietly, peacefully, with the rhythm of your breathing, over and over during that time.

Allow yourself to be lifted above, or taken deep within. Let go of whatever is on your mind. You're not praying for peace for the world at this moment - just for yourself. Let the peace of Christ protect your heart. Let the God of peace fill you (see Philippians).

And then carry that peace with you. To work, to your family, to your reading or hearing or watching of the news, to your conversations, to your email, facebook, my space; to the grocery store where you run into your friends who voted differently than you; to the joy in your conversations with those who share your thrill at this election; to your grief and fear over the results of this election.

Go outside. Bring the peace with you. Do it again later in the day. Do it again tomorrow.

Go outside!
Peace be with you.

Jan Gunter - Writing from Round Rock where the cool breeze wafts through the window, the cardinals are chirping, and we elected our first in ages Democrat to the Texas State House - Diana Maldonado! Where that cute little red car of Lauren's doesn't come home every night anymore but instead sits on a parking lot at Texas State University. Where Austin, living 25 miles away at the Moreau House at St. Edward's University, is eating vegan and loving life and getting around better than ever. Where the Round Rock High School volleyball team is hoping for a state championship after beating Cy-Fair in a hard-fought battle last night. And where it promises to be a beautiful, peaceful day.

Write when you can! Keep in touch.

Dear Bruce

A Response to my friend, Bruce, on facebook.

I have been having difficult conversations this week with Christian friends who disagree with me on my political leanings. I haven't written about my politics because I have thought that they didn't belong here in my blog about clearing the clutter. But I have changed my mind about that.

As friends have challenged me on my voting for Obama - there, I've said it - and in particular on issues such as abortion and the perceived socialist/terrorist threat that they see Obama as bringing, I have found myself needing to respond, not being able to not respond. And what I've realized is that my politics are very much about clearing the clutter, about living a life with God in the world.

In fact, as I've become intensely agitated about people assuming that one party is more Christian than the other in this country, I have found myself going to God and begging for some peace, some solitude, some direction. And I have found it. Over and over. In the quietness of the creek. In the prayer book. In the gloria. In the repetition of the truths I know to be true - not American truths - Christian truths.

So tonight on facebook I did it again - I stuck my neck out there and started talking about how my Christianity informs my decision to vote for Obama. It was in response to my friend, Bruce's post, "What November 4 Means to Me". A couple of things he said the election is not about for him are things that it is about for me - the economy (the money as I say below), and the war in Iraq. So here you will find my not-so-eloquent response to at least a couple of Bruce's points. It is also not comprehensive, but it is simply a moment in time of my political/Christian thought.

Dear Bruce,

Thank you for your post, and I appreciate especially your request for others to be kind if they disagree. I've struggled as I've disagreed with some of my Christian friends and family to find a way to do that without being divisive.

I believe you and I are on different sides of this thing politically, but I welcome the opportunity to kindly share my positions. I proudly cast my vote for Obama last week in early voting. And I did so as a person of faith who believes with all my heart that we are headed in the wrong direction before God. The Scriptures have a lot to say about money, and so yes, I do believe it's about the money - not mine because I have precious little to be worried about - but about the way we all handle it, personally and collectively. It is about greed, and yes, indeed the answer is, "I am my brother's keeper." Check your OT for that one.

I also challenge you to read your NT and find a justification - any justification at all - for war. I know I'm expressing a VERY minority opinion here, but when we were going into Iraq, I prayed and agonized over that one, convinced it was wrong. In the process of praying and reading the Bible, I not only decided it was a wrong war, but that there is no NT justification for war - of any kind. A truly pro-life position would be anti-war. How can it be ok to kill soldiers and innocent civilians? How can it be ok to impose the death penalty? If you recall, the Israelites clamored for a king on a White stallion. I fear we may be more like them than we know. We are clamoring for the RIGHT (opposite of left) to win, but Jesus laid down his life instead of fighting. How do we translate that politically? I don't believe we've really tried. Augustine was the one who came up with the idea of a just war, not Jesus. That's not a Christ-ly concept at all.

Jesus' one act of aggression was, ahem . . . . about the money!! Specifically the money changers. Cheating, swindling, being greedy, taking advantage of their position.

I do not know what the political solutions are to all of these things, but it has been clear to me that what "Christian" means in political circles has become more about what certain Christian leaders and non-Christian radio personalities are spewing forth than it is about real Christian people considering all the issues before God and weeping for many things, including the taking of innocent lives.

Don't hear me to be saying that you are not considering the issues, Bruce, because clearly you are. What I do want you to know is that I am not hoping for a Messiah in Barack Obama, although I do believe he has a great deal of wisdom for leadership that we need right now. NO, we already have the Messiah - that position is taken. But I want you to know that as a fellow believer, a fellow follower of Jesus Christ, I have come to the opposite conclusion from you, and I can't be silent about it.

I appreciate the opportunity to share this in your space here on facebook, and I hope all those who disagree with me will be kind as well as we all "work out (our) own salvation with fear and trembling" (Philippians 2:12, NT).

Before God let us pray for his Kingdom to come on earth as it is in heaven.

Lord, hear our prayer.

Jan Walker (those Walkers can be SO long-winded) Gunter
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March was so long ago

Why did I post my last blog 7 months ago? I enjoy writing. A few other people even tell me they enjoy my writing. But I wrote the night of the caucuses in Texas for the presidential primary, and now we are just a month away from the election itself, and I have not written anything since. So much has happened.

Life and death got in the way. Daddy was quite ill and spent some time slowly leaving his body and this earth. It was such a blessing to be with him and Mother in those last weeks of his. He went to the caucus that last night that I wrote, and he voted for Hillary. He would not tolerate other people criticizing her as so many were wont to do. I believe he saw in her some raw strength and sheer will much like his own. He saw in her some well-earned wisdom, much like his own.

That night I stood in a surprising and delightfully long line of Democratic voters at Chisholm Trail Middle School in Round Rock, Texas, Williamson County, an oh-so-red county, as we waited to vote, and I cast mine for Obama. Daddy was not well as he went to the caucus that night. His one kidney was failing. But he cast his vote that day, and that night he went to the caucus. While I don't believe he would have been like my neighbor who only took her Hillary signs down 2 weeks ago, he was determined to cast his vote for this woman he believed in. To cast his vote as he had always done. It was voting day. Caucus night. That's what Daddy did.

Daddy did everything until the end. He attended his dear friend, Dale's funeral, just two months earlier. He and Mother looked so beautiful sitting there in the honorary pallbearer section. So beautiful that I cried. I cried because I knew, as he did, that he was near his own end. But being near the end for Daddy did not really signify anything different. He just kept doing what he had always done. He got up and got dressed. He ate at the table. He cleaned up after himself and ran the dustbuster under the bar stools where he and Mother had most of their meals. He got in the car anytime someone was ready to go somewhere.

He wasn't very willing to talk about his dying. I was a bit disappointed about this - I would have liked to have had some end-of-life conversations with him, but this was not his way. He never agreed to die, never assented. He didn't deny that it was happening, he just didn't ever say that it was ok. It was happening, and he couldn't stop that, but he kept on going every day not as if it were his last. That's what Daddy did. He lived. Until the end.

At Easter dinner at our house, just weeks before he died, on one of his last outings, he insisted on staying longer than Mother thought he should. He sat in the living room and shook his head, "No" when she asked if he was ready to leave. He wanted to stay in the company of his family and the friends we had invited over for Easter dinner. Even though he couldn't talk much anymore, and not really at all in a group of people, he was there with us, listening, sharing in the conversation. And as always, always, when we would say good-bye after a visit, he said, "I love you." Clearly. Plainly. When other words failed him, those never did.

In his last three weeks, as he was having more difficulty breathing with the fluid building up in his body, he astounded me one day. Austin and Lauren brought their friends Leela and Amanda with them to visit him. When all the kids came in - 18-21 year olds with all their energy - Daddy stood up and walked over to say hi. The kids all gathered around the bar to just hang out. There happened to be a cake that a friend had brought by earlier in the day, and Daddy walked over and very clearly said, "Be sure and have some cake." Words were precious for him at this point. He often couldn't say what he wanted to, so he had given up trying much of the time. But on this day he had the words to offer hospitality, to welcome his dear grandkids' friends. Always the host. That's who Daddy was. That's what he did.

He did what he always did. Got up. Got dressed. Voted. Went out whenever he could. Shared what he had. Played the host. Loved his family. Faithful Daddy.

I haven't written for a while because I have known that the next thing to write about was Daddy. And maybe the next as well. We'll see.

Writing from Round Rock where it's been in the 90's on this last day of September. And promises to be a lovely 60 degrees or less tonight and where there is no water in the creek but many leaves falling on the white rocks.

Seeing in the Dark

On my way home from the caucus tonight I walked along a little trail through a small patch of woods in my neighborhood. I've been on this trail many times, but not lately. Because I had a small flashlight, I could see enough to keep from tripping on the rocks, but I realized that the only reason I could even find the trail at night was because it was a familiar path. I had walked that way before. In the daytime.

I have spent the last week being introduced to St. John of the Cross and his many works, including his most famous, The Dark Night. Under the captivating teaching of Dr. Susan Muto, my interest in this Christian mystic was piqued. St. John writes about the light being obscured, about being without comfort and consolation and mostly about the fact that in spite of how dark it is, God is very present in the darkness. He talks about the path in order to help the one on the journey have some familiarity with it so that when the darkness does set in, the path will be at least somewhat familiar, like mine was tonight.

As I walked this dark trail tonight, feeling fairly confident albeit a bit anxious about the path, I knew I was safe. I did call Phillip on my cell phone just as I was heading into the darkness, though, because even though this is a safe neighborhood, I wanted him to know where I was, what path I was on and about when I expected to be home. It's that phone call where you say, "If I'm not home in 10 minutes you should begin to worry." Suddenly I thought, "I wonder why we don't do that for each other spiritually?"

How many of us don't even know when we're headed down that dark path and surely wouldn't consider saying to someone, "If I don't emerge from this darkness soon, be sure to check on me." It occurs to me that we don't know very well how to be with each other soul to soul. Even those of us who without hesitation call ourselves Christians, who gladly acknowledge that we are on a spiritual path, even we don't know very well how to be with each other soul to soul.

St. John of the Cross had an entire language he used to describe life with God and how best to navigate the terrain. He was there, soul to soul with Teresa of Avila and the many sisters to whom he was spiritual director. His language is admittedly hard for us to relate to, but he did have a language that spoke to his contemporaries. How do we reclaim the language of souls?

If we want to see in the dark on the path where we find ourselves, we need to learn the language of the darkness. We need to learn the language of souls.

Praying with my own words

I find myself moving from low to high church. I come from a tradition where believers are taught to pray directly to God using their own words. I still hear pastors say things like, "You can talk to God on your own. You don't need special prayers or the prayers of other people. Use your own words."

At some point in my journey I discovered that kind of prayer wasn't working so well for me. I desperately wanted something more than my own words. My own words seemed weak and trivial. I realized that for years I had been longing for more help than that in my praying. I had memorized precious few prayers, and I needed a few more.

Since then I've discovered some really great prayers that are not as they say, my own words. But it is simply astonishing to me how much they become my own words when I pray them.

The book of Psalms for example, is a book of prayers and songs. If I had no other prayers, I could live on these alone. There's this one from Psalm 17:

I call on you, O God, for you will answer me;
give ear to me and hear my prayer.
Keep me as the apple of your eye;
hide me in the shadow of your wings.
Psalm 17:6, 8

Or how about this simple line just across the page in Psalm 18 - a worthy prayer for any day:

I love you, O Lord, my strength.
Psalm 18:1

In addition to the Psalms, I have come to love some very simple prayers of the Church. Who knows how old these are, but they are essentially words adapted from Scripture and prayed for countless years by Christian pilgrims:

The Jesus Prayer

Lord Jesus, Christ
Son of God
Have mercy on me.

How simple and profound is that! And how transforming and peaceful a prayer it is. How rhythmic. It's how Jesus said we should pray - how the poor man prayed.

And then this one that I love to pray when I'm facing trouble of any kind. It comes to me frequently in times that are not what I would want them to be, in times when I know I need help, in times when I feel inadequate or lonely or greatly challenged.

Oh God, come to my assistance,
Oh Lord, make haste to help me.

When I pray any one of these things repeatedly, the prayer begins to well up from within me and becomes a fountain of life. The prayer itself flows through me as the River of Life, as Christ himself, as Spirit, as God. The prayer becomes my own words.

I think I understand what the pastors are trying to say when they let people know it's ok to pray their own words. I also think it's a disservice to not help people a little bit more to come to their own words by way of a rich tradition of scripture and written prayers of the people.

Writing to you from our home on St. Williams Loop where 30+ high school girls will gather tonight at 4:30 to spray paint t-shirts for their upcoming District Swim Meet at the University of Texas aquatic center. These same girls will stay all night and participate in other traditions, some involving toilet paper and boys' houses. Lauren will be competing for the first time in the District Meet, swimming the 200 yard Individual Medley and the 100 yard Backstroke. Go Dragons!

We're having some of the best weather of the year in Central Texas. Many days of beautiful sunshine, low humidity and cold temperatures. Reminds me of one of the places of my heart - New Mexico. Reminds me of God.