Interbeing

I could spend an entire afternoon standing at the kitchen sink and gazing out the window at the abundant life forms in our front yard. This time of year, honeybees and butterflies are frequent visitors to our red sage plants. Bright little crimson sage blooms dot the landscape outside our window. Graceful dragonflies glide by, and last week Jack was delighted to see a hummingbird buzzing around, wings a blur, busily poking her little beak into flower after flower to sip drops of nectar.

Our gray feral kitty, Kathmandu, plays on the grassy lawn pretending rather lazily to stalk a lizard or two. A mockingbird perches in our magnolia tree, her perky long tail held high, pouring out her song. A pair of brown doves peck at the ground together, never straying more than a few feet away from one another.

I often think about my grandmother, Vergia Alma Rudd Havens, and the way she lived her life. Even though she passed away in 1971 when I was only 11 years old, I still think of her almost every day, as she was a strong influence on my life as a young girl and she still continues to be a guiding force for me as an adult. I think of her growing Black-Eyed Susans in the backyard of the parsonage where she and my grandfather lived in the hills of Eastern Kentucky. In the summertime, the happy golden flowers covered the hillside. She had a birdfeeder mounted on a pole on the hillside, and every morning she filled it with food for the birds. I especially loved the cardinals who came to the feeder. To this day, I think of my grandmother whenever I see a cardinal. Since my grandmother was part Cherokee, and I embrace certain Native American spiritual beliefs, and I think of cardinals as being my spirit guides. Whenever I see a pair of cardinals together, a handsome tufted male all vivid scarlet and an olive-brown female, a little less flashy with her red-tinged feathers, I like to think they are my grandparents visiting me from the spirit world. It comforts me and helps me feel rooted in my past.

As I watch from my kitchen window, I touch the beaded necklace that encircles my neck. It was given to me by a friend almost ten years ago. I roll the smooth oblong beads around in my fingers. They are made of cream-colored bone, probably from a camel, and are handpainted with terracotta-colored striped designs. Terracotta is one of my favorite colors, so I enjoy wearing these beads. They make me feel good. I think about the artisans who made the beads from bone and painted them. I wonder where they live and what was going on in their lives when they were working on these beads. I feel a connection to them. I wonder if the beads were made in someone's home workshop or in a factory. Were they made in India, Africa, or somewhere in Indonesia perhaps? Did the bead makers earn a living wage from their craft? Were they doing what they loved? Did the artisan who made my beads ever think that a person half way round the world would be wearing the results of their labor?

In my study of Buddhism I have learned that I exist within a circle of interbeing. Like all beings, my existence is impermanent. I am here for just a little while, occupying a house on a small piece of ground, growing red sage flowers, and wearing beads made from camel bone. I am not separate from other beings or the earth. I am like an ocean wave that rolls up on the beach for a moment and then flows back out, returning to the body of water. I am a continuation of my grandparents. Their blood flows through my veins. I carry their DNA into the future. I breathe the same air as a cardinal, a hummingbird, and a bead maker at a workbench in a small factory on another part of the planet. I have no "self". Like the wave, I am merely a part of the whole. There is no birth or death, only change. Earth becomes red sage, red sage becomes a honeybee, a bee becomes a human, a human becomes earth. My grandparents have become spirit guides. Everything is a part of life. I can see the whole universe from my kitchen window, and I smile to the universe.

Connecting with Nature

I like connecting with nature for spiritual renewal, especially just right outside my own front door! Some folks believe that you have to hike for miles out into the wilderness in order to experience nature, but for me, this isn't true. I don't have time to spend all day hiking or sitting in a canoe. When I get home from work, I enjoy taking our two dogs for a walk down our street. While they sniff around and do their doggie business, I take time to enjoy the crape myrtles, amaryllis lillies, confederate jasmine, lantana, or whatever seasonal flowers are in bloom in our neighborhood. Sometimes we pick a flower or two for a little bouquet for our dining room table, or to place at the feet of our Buddha statue who sits in the entrance to our home. I enjoy the butterflies and bumble bees, as well as the birds that inhabit our area. Our feathered friends include pileated woodpeckers, owls, red-shouldered hawks, cardinals, mockingbirds, and others. The arrival of the sandhill cranes in the Fall is always a special time. I love to hear them "honk" as they fly over our house.

We grow Japanese timber bamboo and Buddha Belly bamboo in our yard, as well as mimosa, hibiscus, and Spanish Bayonet yucca, which makes wonderful huge white blooms in the Spring. Now that Summer his here, our pineapple plant is making fruit. The birds enjoy splashing in our birdbath. We have a patio made of old red bricks in the backyard, and I enjoy going out there in the evening when things are peaceful. Our date palm tree is making fruit, and I love to hear playful squirrels scampering up the tree to munch on the dates. When it is breezy, our Solari bell and wind chimes make beautiful tinkling music. I got a hanging basket of periwinkle, bursting with blossoms, for my birthday last month, and it hangs brightly over our patio, providing a cheerful splash of color. Lush green English ivy covers the patio fence. So that's my daily nature experience. It isn't as exotic as a long hike at Payne's Prairie or a canoe trip down the Santa Fe River, but it works for me!

Spiritual Autobiography

As long as I can remember, I have been a spiritual seeker. My mother passed away when I was a small child, and I was never really close to my father. The members of my family who influenced me the most were my paternal grandparents back home in Kentucky, Dewey and Vergia Havens. My grandfather was a minister in the Disciples of Christ Church. He and my grandmother attended seminary together, both earning degrees in theology. However, as a woman, my grandmother could not become ordained as a minister due to the gender politics of her era. She was content to serve as the minister’s wife, being a spiritual leader in her own way in her husband’s church. My grandparents provided a good balance for one another in their respective ministries. He preached fire and brimstone in the pulpit on Sunday mornings, and she taught peace and love at Wednesday evening prayer meetings. My grandmother even had her own weekly Christian radio show on a local station at one time.

I saw my grandparents as being vitally important to their small rural community in the Appalachian hills. There were few psychologists, counselors, or social workers in Kentucky in those days. Whenever members of their church became ill, had marital problems, or lost a job, my grandparents were always available for hospital visitation, pastoral counseling, or to provide networking and support for members of their beloved community. From my point of view, their ministry exemplified what a spiritual community should be.

After I graduated from college, I married a young man who was Catholic, and I converted to the Catholic faith. I enjoyed going to Mass. I loved the ritualistic nature of the liturgy, the chanting, and the incense. When we divorced after seven years, I kept going to Mass for awhile, but I began to notice that divorced women were not particularly valued by the Catholic church, so I stopped going.

Soon after, I became friends with a woman who read Tarot cards as a hobby. I found the Tarot fascinating. I decided to enroll in a community education class in Tarot reading at a community college. I met some people in the class who were practicing Wicca. I became intrigued with Goddess worship and the pagan religions. I started reading everything I could find about the earth-based traditions.

Over the next couple of years, I attended workshops with Margot Adler, Selena Fox, Luisa Teish, and Starhawk. I was captivated by the concept of the Goddess as a Divine Mother. I loved the idea of a female deity, as something had always been lacking for me in patriarchal Christianity. The Goddess became a personal maternal figure for me as well, which is something I had been missing for most of my life.

The following year, my sister got married to a gentleman who was a Unitarian Universalist. I had never heard of the UU faith before meeting my brother-in-law. The idea of a church that draws upon the wisdom of all the world’s religious traditions intrigued me, and I eagerly became a member of our local UU congregation. I have now been a Unitarian for fifteen years. Over the years, I’ve taught a UU women’s spirituality course called Cakes for the Queen of Heaven, I’ve been involved in rituals with the Covenant of Unitarian Universalist Pagans (CUUPS), and I practice Zen Buddhist meditation with a group called the UU Azalea Sangha.

I met my current spouse Jack at the UU church in 2003. He is very interested in the teachings of Vietnamese Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hahn. In 2005, we traveled to Denver to see Thich Nhat Hahn give a public talk while he was teaching in the United States. We’ve read several of his books. Jack and I studied with a local Order of Interbeing sangha, based on Thich Nhat Hahn’s teachings, for several months. We also sometimes attend a Tibetan Buddhist meditation group.

Jack and I were married on February 10, 2008. This has been a very positive transition in my life. Another transition I would like to make is to expand my career as a psychiatric nurse practitioner into pastoral counseling. Because my spirituality is so important to me, I would like to develop a pastoral counseling practice that focuses on spirituality as a path for personal growth and well-being. In order to accomplish this goal, I’m seeking ordination as a pastoral counseling minister.

(Written on April 30, 2008)

Attachments

A veterinary technician with a subdued look on her face escorts Jack and me from the waiting area to an exam room at the All Cats Healthcare Clinic. She brings the patient, our 14 year old Abyssinian-tabby cat, Blondie, into the exam room. Blondie was was diagnosed with cancer about a month ago. We've been caring for her at home, with nutritional support and pain medication prescribed by the vet. When Blondie became extremely frail and seemed to be in constant pain not controlled by the analgesic, I decided to schedule her for a follow-up appointment at All Cats. I dropped her off at the clinic that morning on my way to work. The clinic called early in the afternoon to advise Jack that the prognosis is not good. There is a large tumor in Blondie's abdomen, and another in her jaw. She is suffering from an agressive type of cancer for which there is no treatment or chance of remission.

Blondie is curled up on a little blanket, and appears woozy from her analgesic. The tech places her gently on the exam table. I fold my arms around Blondie in a loving embrace.

I found her as a tiny stray kitten while vacationing in Key West in 1994. As I walked up the front steps of a museum to see an exhibit about a Spanish shipwreck, I spotted a litter of kittens huddled together beneath the steps. I kept thinking about those little cuties as I toured the exhibit. On the way out of the museum, I scooped up one of the kittens and carried her back to my hotel room. That was the beginning of my 14 year relationship with Blondie.

The vet comes in to the exam room and gives me a hug. She says Blondie told her today that she wants to go to kitty heaven. I am sad, but I realize that this is one of the responsibilitites of pet ownership. Pets trust their humans to take care of them, and sometimes this care includes relieving their suffering by letting them go. It is difficult to say goodbye. I have loved her completely, as much as any woman could love any cat.

The vet tells me that Blondie will always be with me, and that she will be chasing butterflies in the spirit world. She slowly administers the drugs that will allow Blondie to drift off to sleep. As the medication takes effect, I kiss Blondie's forehead and gently stroke her little platinum chin, which is the physical trait that earned her the name "Blondie". I say her name softly and tell her I love her so that her mommy's voice will be the last sound she hears as she leaves this world.

We bury our dear little Blondie in the backyard that evening, under a Japanese timber bamboo. I order a little stone engraved with her name over the internet from a pet memorial company. I tell Jack that it comforts me to know that Blondie is no longer suffering from cancer.

She was a gregarious and affectionate little soul, very agile and bright, and a devoted companion. She always liked to be close, curling up right next to me at every opportunity. She was so honest about her feelings, with her expressions written all over her gray-striped kitty face. I will miss that little Miss Tigerpants, with her ruddy nose, spotted belly, and black feet. Blondie lived fully until the final day of her life, purring and trying weakly to "make biscuits" on my stomach as she lay with me on our living room sofa, while the cancer raged throughout her gaunt furry frame. She even made her familiar little chortle sound, letting me know that in spite of her terrible pain and failing health, she loved being with me.

This is a time when the universe is teaching me to accept loss. My sister died just before the holidays last year, and my uncle was diagnosed with bladder cancer soon after that. One of my cousins in Kentucky was recently diagnosed with liver cancer, and is not expected to survive more than a year. He is 56 years old. Many of my long-term attachments to this world are slipping away. This leaves me in an uneasy space. I would prefer not to be in this space, but the universe did not ask my opinion.

A Buddhist friend suggested performing rituals from "The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying". She said that making donations to charities each week after Blondie's death up to 49 days, making offerings, lighting a candle, saying prayers and visualizations can help her in the Bardo and can influence her next life.

Another Buddhist told me that the Dalai Lama wrote in his autobiography that his cat died with an injury. A while later a cat brought her kitten to him. It was crippled where his old cat had the injury. Maybe Blondie will be reincarnated, and we will be together again in some future life.

(Blondie died on July 1, 2008)