St. Patty's Day Memories

The Blarney Stone, originally uploaded by howzey.

So there I was, 6 months pregnant, hanging on for dear life but determined to kiss the Blarney Stone. (Perhaps that's part of Miss M's problem...)

I'm not Irish, except by adoption. It's more that I'm Celtic in spirit, but having a dad whose parents came from Ireland and whose grandfather once tried to convince his wife that "'twas the banshees" that kept him from coming home earlier from the pub definitely helped.

My dad would come home from work on St. Patrick's Day and light a fire in the fire place; I'd put on Bing Crosby's Shilleileighs and Shamrocks (an album now out of print) and we'd listen to it together over and over again. It was the only day of the year we'd listen to it. It made it magical.

In years to come my father's drinking would drive us apart (the genetic downside to that grandfather who got stuck in the pub with the banshees) but we always had that day we could be together. And to this day my children know the words to our favorite song from the album:

Who Threw the Overalls in Mrs. Murphy's Chowder? by Bing Crosby

Who threw the overalls in Mrs. Murphy’s chowder?
Nobody spoke so we shouted all the louder.
Its an Irish trick, that’s true.
I can lick the Mic that threw
The overalls in Mrs. Murphy’s chowder.

Mrs. Murphy gave a party
‘Bout a week agao
Everything was plentiful;
Well, the Murphy’s they’re not slow.
They treated us like gentlemen;
We tried to act the same.
If only for what happened,
Aw, it was an awful shame.

Mrs. Murphy dished the chowder out
And fainted on the spot
She’d found a pair of overalls
At the bottom of the pot.
Tim Nolan he got rippin’ mad
His eyes were bulging out!
He jumped up on the pi-ano
And loudly he did shout:

“Who threw the overalls in Mrs. Murphy’s chowder?”
Nobody spoke so we shouted all the louder.
“It’s an Irish trick, that’s true.
I can lick the Mic that threw
The overalls in Mrs. Murphy’s chowder.”

We pulled the pants from out the soup
And laid them on the floor.
Each man swore upon his life
He’s not seen ‘em before.
They were plastered up with mortar
And were worn out at the knee;
They’d have their many ups and downs
As we could plainly see.

When Mrs. Murphy she came to,
She starts to cry and pout.
She’d had them in the wash that day
And forgot to take them out.
Tim Nolan he excused himself
For what he’d said that night
So we put music to the words
And sang with all our might!

“Who threw the overalls in Mrs. Murphy’s chowder?”
Nobody spoke so we shouted all the louder.
“It’s an Irish trick, that’s true.
I can lick the Mic that threw
The overalls in Mrs. Murphy’s chowder.”

Happy St. Patrick's Day Dad; I know you can't read this but I'm playing Bing Crosby for both of us...

How does music figure in to your celebrations?

Sacred Life Sunday - Being in the World

"We are God's hands"

On Wednesday the kids and I will be attending a candleight vigil, arranged by MoveOn.org, hosted by someone in our community, to protest the ongoing war in Iraq. Wednesday marks the five year anniversary.

I have been listening to Christina Baldwin's CD set Lifelines. It's a wonderful set from a wise and infinitely accessible woman and it is opening up new paths before me. One of the many things she talks about is being in the world; more importantly she talks about ways to avoid the overwhelm that comes from the immense difficulties in the world.

My journal these last few days has focused on the wide world, framing my life in the context of what is happening in the wider world. I have tried to heal the broken heart that I suffered when last I got involved and was let down. I know that something has to change and that something is how I relate to the events in the world, regardless of the outcome, regardless of whether or not it turns out as I have prayed.

That change has to keep me in the wider world in spite of disappointments and frustrations. If I am truly meant to bring spiritual practices to people in their ordinary everyday lives then this is a path I must learn to walk. I have to learn to walk it so that, if nothing else I can bring back the experience of walking it to others so that maybe, just maybe, they struggle less.

And so Wednesday the kids and I will go and light candles and see what comes of it, not just in the wider world but in the much wider world of my soul.

How do you hold the space out in the wider world?

"Hands" by Jewel

If I could tell the world just one thing
It would be that we're all OK
And not to worry 'cause worry is wasteful
And useless in times like these
I won't be made uselessI won't be idle with despair
I will gather myself around my faith
For light does the darkness most fear

My hands are small, I know
But they're not yours, they are my own
But they're not yours, they are my own
And I am never broken

Poverty stole your golden shoes
It didn't steal your laughter
And heartache came to visit me
But I knew it wasn't ever after
We'll fight, not out of spite
For someone must stand up for what's right
'Cause where there's a man who has no voice
There ours shall go singing

My hands are small I know
But they're not yours, they are my own
But they're not yours, they are my own
I am never broken

In the end only kindness matters
In the end only kindness matters
I will get down on my knees, and I will pray
I will get down on my knees, and I will pray
I will get down on my knees, and I will pray

My hands are small I know
But they're not yours, they are my own
But they're not yours, they are my own
And I am never broken

My hands are small I know
But they're not yours, they are my own
But they're not yours, they are my own
And I am never broken
We are never broken

We are God's eyes
God's hands
God's mind
We are God's eyes
God's hands
God's heart
We are God's eyes
God's hands
God's eyes
We are God's hands
We are God's hands

The Empress

III. The Empress, originally uploaded by chrismaverick.

I have been working with Suzanne Falter-Barns' offering The Self Help Author's Crash Course. The very first CD has a meditation that invites your "authentic self" into the spotlight. I had such an interesting and beautiful image evolve from that that I want to share it.

The image that my mind offered up as my authentic self was an archetypal image of a woman, sitting beside a tree with flowers dotting the grass all around her. Lit from behind she appears to have a halo of blond hair (or a crown of stars) and glows with the warmth of a summer day.

I knew that picture, recognizing it from The Merlin Tarot that I've owned for years. A little digging into the archetype revealed that she is a mother figure (those of you that know me know that this is very much the case.) One website said: "The Empress is a creator, be it creation of life, of romance, of art or business. While the Magician is the primal spark, the idea made real, and the High Priestess is the one who gives the idea a form, the Empress is the womb where it gestates and grows till it is ready to be born."

Another site offered this story: "Having decided what shape his future will take, the Fool strides forward. But he is impatient to make his future a full-grown reality. This is when he comes upon the Empress. Hair gold as wheat, a crown of stars, a white gown dotted with pomegranates. She rests back on her throne surrounded by an abundance of grain and a lush garden. It is possible that she is pregnant.

"Kneeling, the Fool relates to her his story. And she, in turn, smiles a motherly smile and gently gives him this advice: "Like newly planted grain or a child in the womb, a new life, a new love, a new creation is fragile. It requires fertile soil, patience and nurturing, it needs love and attention. Only this will bring it to fruition." Understanding at last that his future will take time to build and create, the Fool thanks the Empress and continues on his way."

What was most cool about the meditation was what happened when this image of my authentic self moved off the stage and out into the world. With each step she morphed into me - wearing jeans, with the same long flowing blond hair - out onto busy city street.

I have long held that my calling is to bring practical do-able spiritual practices to people in their everyday ordinary lives. The image of this dichotomy - the archetypal creater embodied by the young woman on the city street - is one that empowers me. Feeling Her inside of me, but still being able to be this real down to earth person that I am is powerful mojo in the world.

I've been called the High Priestess. I've been dubbed an archetypal mother, even by women older than me. I've even been known to some as The Star. But never before have I felt the strength of an archetype like that of The Empress.

What archetype hides within you?

Beautiful June

This is my friend June on the day of the wedding. I love this photo of her - she's so relaxed and content. Her inner beauty really shows through here.

I wish all pictures could be like this one. I wish all pictures could show how we are on the inside, all that love and beauty flowing out into the camera.

What photos show your inner beauty?

"La Padre"

the bride and groom exchange vows, while I hold the space for an emotional pair

So, it seems that the term "non-denominational minister" doesn't translate too well into Spanish. Hell, its a mouthful in English. Equally difficult terms are"officiant" and "the person doing the ceremony." None seemed to explain who I was to the Mexican staff at the Hacienda Las Trancas, when native English speaker Kelley tried to introduce me to the ladies in the kitchen.

So we tried "El Padre" and understanding began to dawn on the faces; I just chuckled because being called "the priest" appealed to the warped and twisted side of me that finds humor in the sacriligeous (Confused? Just watch the movie Dogma and it'll all clear up!) Kelley, however, still wasn't satisfied, so she tried again:

"La Padre." Suddenly, everyone got it. I had worried for an instant (as I often do when my spiritual beliefs come up against the possibility of offending someone's religious beliefs) but when Kelley translated what the head of the kitchen said, my heart was full to brimming; it still brings tears to my eyes:

"She says, 'You have to do a good job on the ceremony. All us women are counting on you to make us all look good.'"

La Padre. I like it. I can deal with that. I like the idea of having to do a good job because "all us women" are counting on me to make us look good. I like that a whole lot!

When have you fudged the symantics to work for you?

"La Padre"