Invitation to...

Watch your mailboxes in the next week or two, as your board of directors is sending out a very special invitation. Some of you may already have noted it on your calendar. We will be marking the 40th anniversary of the founding of our church on November 5th. This celebration will also be an official fundraiser for the Living Gold 2012 international conference next July. We are very pleased to be able to combine these two events together in such a way.
I noticed that my last blog was called "Giving Birth".
For this one, I would like to talk about the word, "crowning". This is one of those words in the English language that can have a variety of meanings. It can be either an adjective or a verb.
Let's take the adjective first:
Over the past 40 years, we have so far had 4 priests: Rev. Hegg, Rev. Grimm, Rev. Kientzler and Rev. Locey.
I would like to point out that of the 4, Rev. Werner Grimm has served our community for 32 years now, and I feel that our 40th anniversary could be considered his "crowning" achievement, to a great extent. We are very fortunate to have both Werner and Dietmot still participating so actively. Without Dietmot, we would not have home made bread for communion, or flowers gracing our altar so often.
As a verb, particularly on the subject of birth, you also have the term "crowning", which is when the baby's head first makes its appearance. This is the moment when all of a sudden that baby is a living reality. You still don't know anything else about this baby, but you know it is going to be here any minute! This picture can be applied to the 2012 conference. It's getting closer and closer, and one day we will wake up and know that it is almost upon us.
We have our anniversary on the one hand, celebrating all the hard work and support with which our church has been blessed over the years, and on the other hand, the 2012 conference: heralding the beginning of something new for our community.
There is usually a lot of preparation and excitement in a family when a new baby is coming. Friends, relatives, and co-workers all want to get involved. Maybe it involves fixing up a nursery, or helping the mother so she doesn't get too worn out, or making sure all the necessities will be on hand to help the family with unavoidable costs.
As we look back on the 40 years that have already passed, we can also ask ourselves, is all in readiness for what lies ahead? What kind of legacy are we leaving for those who will be coming after us? Is everything neat and tidy and in good repair, or is it all falling apart?
By now you may have noticed the bolding of the number 40. This is because coincidentally, it takes about 40 weeks from the time of conception the birth of a baby, and come to think of it, as of the middle of October, we will have 40 weeks left before the conference!
Let's get ready for that baby.

Sparky

Giving Birth

This week in Washington, DC, the Dalai Lama is hosting a very special 10 day event called a kalachakra, or consciousness raising. The image above is painstakingly created in sand at the beginning of the event, and then dissolved at the end. It's a very solemn, yet at the same time joyous, occasion, filled with hope and promise.

What does raising your consciousness mean, and how do you go about it?

To me, it means breaking through an invisible barrier. We all have things that hold us back: fear, pain, anxiety, anger, the desire or need to hold on to things that are familiar to us, or just stuff in general. That little voice inside your head that tells you, don't do it! We all have stored memories and feelings this little voice brings up when you are faced with making a decision - it's part of who we are up to now. You can suspend or dampen this voice for brief periods of time, but not forever.

But there is another voice that speaks from the heart. It will always tell you the truth. It will always tell you the right thing to do. Being able to examine and transform negative thoughts, memories and feelings helps you to listen more to what is in your heart, waiting to be brought forth. The more you can do this, the more you are able to "raise" your consciousness.

Some people describe it as being "reborn". In a very similar way, it's like being pregnant and giving birth. A baby is a symbol for hope and promise for the future, but to get there, you have to go through a whole lot of changes, some painful, some not. Sometimes that baby just doesn't want to come out! (That would be my first child - 3 weeks late, and 36 hours of labour.) The good news is, you are filled with such gratitude and euphoria when the baby finally arrives, that you forget all about the pain. You forget that by the time you're ready to deliver, you just want to pack up and go home - that's the little voice inside your head. You know it's about persevering and pushing through, because something unimaginably wonderful is waiting.

It's a joy that everyone wants to share in and be a part of.

Do you know the song, I Have a Dream, by ABBA?

Art exchange

Sometime late last year my daughter and one of the companions at Cascadia engaged in an exchange of original art created by themselves. I will give initials only here to respect their privacies. It started out one day with AFL telling me he had made a drawing that he wanted to show me. Then he opened a cupboard door, produced the mixed media drawing shown above and continued: "I made this for your daughter." I'll tell you, I was floored and so was my daughter when I brought the art piece home that evening. She absolutely loved it and right away hung it on the wall at the head end of her bed. Then I got to thinking if my daughter could give something to AFL in return and I thought of a poem she had written a few months before. She didn't think it was that great but everyone we showed it to thought otherwise so we produced a copy and I gave it to AFL the next chance I got. I'm telling you, he was so happy I could see his eyes moistening up on the spot! So here now is the poem which my daughter JAS wrote:

                    Memory
Somewhere out along the sea,
Lives a lonely Memory.
I've seen this Memory once before,
Wading near the ocean's shore.

It glides about just like a bird,
It never stops, or so I've heard.
Folks only know to believe it exists,
Some place far into the mist.

Just last week I stood alone,
Waves rolling in; a bluish tone.
I swear I saw, upon the sea,
A familiar sight, the Memory.

I'm not quite sure if it was that,
But at one time it was here that it sat.
So live a while, and possibly,
You'll come across this Memory.

JAS 2010

from feeling to thought to paper

Here at the Christian Community I think it is fair to say that creative Spirituality is a good part of our social aspect. Past festivals come to mind where we had various workshops of many kinds, poetry contributions from more than several people and a whole assortment of artistic presentations brought forth also with people from Cascadia and the Waldorf School.
Almost exactly two months ago I had a sudden flood of ideas for this poem while I was at work at Cascadia, I had gone down to the creek to wash my hands I believe. By the time I got home that evening I had it pretty well worked out on paper but I have to admit I tweaked a few words just before I got ready to type it out here today. I am calling it:


Water trail, woodland grows

We went down to the creek today; my childhood came with me and held my hand for awhile. Invisible, nearly silent and not quite so noiseless beings came to murmur almost secret goings-ons of Spring's gradual but ever faster explosion along the water banks. My childhood smiled and spoke softly:
" These are the kinds of places you used to play in, among Nature's peaceful roots popping out of the ground and the wide spread of green boughs and different coloured blooms." The spaces between trees were calm as Sun unfolded it's golden blanket and elsewhere a woodpecker hammered on a metal furnace chimney. "Still looking for bugs?" I wondered. I thought to myself: "The woods are almost nicer now than in mid-Summer because every thing is so suddenly fresh and not over burdened." Don't get me wrong, I like most things about every season by the time it comes along. Then I went back to my work and to write this down later so I could think of it again someday and to share it with you.

(That woodpecker was heard a few times this Spring on the North Shore and I would be amazed to see who responds to say they heard it too. Once, during a Thursday morning co-worker biography presentation, it began a very loud rat-a-tat-tat on the Cascadia chimney and most everyone had a good chuckle about it!)

Vespers Tomorrow Night

If you are a parent or a teacher, by this time of year, you may be feeling frazzled, fatigued, frayed, or if you're watching the Canucks, just plain frustrated.


Tomorrow night, Rev. Locey is offering something very special for Whitsun, a vespers service. Now I may just be getting old, but I don't recall ever having a vespers service here in Vancouver before, especially not for Whitsun.


It's a very special way of being able to detach yourself from the events of the day, perhaps even dating back to the Essenes, especially when it is preceded by a community meal.


In my own limited experience, I have found it to be renewing and re-enlivening - but you'll just have to come and "see" for your Self.


If you can't make it for 6:00 for the potluck, I recommend "shooting" for the service at 7:00.


Hey - it's been 40 years - it's our turn for the Cup!





Sparky


Song for the day: Stompin' Tom Connors' Hockey Night in Canada

Gone Fishing

This blog is dedicated to my brother, Richard James Gronlund, who passed away last week in Calgary, at the age of 52.
My brother was born in Royal Columbian Hospital in New Westminster, B.C., overlooking the Fraser River. The landscape along this mighty river, is, so I have been told, similar to the landscape along the Jordan River.
He was the only boy, sandwiched between 4 girls, and life with so many women was not easy! Picture a man about 6 feet tall, 200 pounds. He liked to wear either a black muscle shirt, or a black leather vest. His body was covered in scars from his rough and tumble days as a roofer. Most people would have taken him to be a biker, but his family and friends knew that under that gruff exterior was a heart of gold. It could very well have been his heart that gave out on him in the end.
At the age of 35, he turned his life around and went through AA - we were very, very proud of him. He did not have much of a formal education, but believed in self-education, and subscribed to a variety of magazines, including men's health and nutrition. He liked to cook, putter with cars, and put in a basement suite pretty much on his own.
He loved nature, and was a very good illustrator of animals and birds, perhaps in another lifetime he had been an artist.
He talked about working with street people when he retired, because he knew what it was to have an addiction.
Above everything else in this world, though, my brother loved to fish.
We love you, bro.

Shirley, Carolyn, Pat and Jill

Love is the great mystery of life

Dear friends, last week I very nearly lost my son.
What happens when a loss or near loss occurs? The world stops as you have known it and pauses, before everything resumes, but it can never be the same as it was. I have had to let my son go so that he can begin a new life. He won't understand right now, but hopefully he will later on.
I'm grateful that it has happened in springtime. Tulips, rhododendrons and trees are in full flower. This is the time of year when one can experience the miracle of new life with all one's senses. Beauty surrounds us. What seemingly was dead has burst forth with new life. This is my hope for my son, too.

Life is the miracle that springs from love.