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Karen Hering imagines the pandemic as a threshold so wide that we cannot help lingering there, despite our uneasiness.
Thresholds require us to leave something, someone, perhaps even some part of ourselves behind. They are marked by vulnerability as we face the possibilities of transformation, in our surroundings and often in identity. Moving across them to the other side, we might be required to take on challenges we’ve never done before, to face fears we have shunned for years, to discover our limitations as well as new abilities, gifts and opportunities. (Karen Hering, May 7)
For a sobering look at just how wide the threshold may be, read Doug Muder’s post, “Things We’re Finding Out About the Pandemic.” (The Weekly Sift, May 4)
If you need cheering up, read Dan Harper’s adventures in creating “kid-friendly and parent-friendly religious education during the age of shelter-in-place.” (Yet Another Unitarian Universalist, May 1)
Joanna Fontaine Crawford tells an old UU joke, one that has new meaning in these world-changing times.
Hearing that a great flood was coming, the Catholics said their rosaries and the Buddhists used their beads, the Congregationalists joined in prayer, and the Unitarian Universalists formed a class to try to learn to live underwater. (Boots and Blessings, May 7)
Sarah Stewart makes peace with her body—in a weightlifting gym.
I’m reminded of the truth I preach from my pulpit: we were all created by a loving God who said we were good. Our bodies are good. Our strength is good. Without our bodies we would not be able to move mass. We could not ache for those we have lost. We would never fail, we would never hurt, we would never eat, we would never hunger. The gift we are given is the gift of our bodies, temporary as they are, strong for giving and receiving love. (Christian Century, April 28)
Myke Johnson has been enjoying a regular, post-gardening rest in her hammock.
It feels a bit like laying on the beach in the sun, or floating on the ocean water. I can relax deeply, let go of trying to carry anything or do anything. It has been so healing in this time of existential stress and grief for our world. I rock as if held in the arms of the air, the birds singing, blue sky and greening trees surrounding me, sun warming me. It reminds me that we are held in the embrace of a larger Love, even when we feel so helpless in the face of the troubles that plague our country. (Finding Our Way Home, May 2)
Catharine Clarenbach reminds us that we are eternal.
All that I seem to have came from somewhere else, from the vast swirling spirals of connection, the innumerable webs of space and time, the Ten Thousand Blessings that connect me to all the rest that is. . . . the Mighty Dead, the ancestors are close. That much I know. They are close around us, always with us, moving in our movements, speaking through our mouths. . . .
I believe that when we die, we die. And that it is okay and right and good to be recycled by the Great Sea of Being into our own new parts of the blessing of the Ten Thousand Things. (The Way of the River, May 1)