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Joshua Trees

Twisted, spiky, almost grotesque appearing trees proliferate in the high desert where my new granddaughter lives. Mormon settlers named them when they spotted the trees in their migration west. To them, the trees appeared as the biblical character Joshua with his arms outstretched, urging them on. Joshua Trees can only grow in a narrow range of elevations in California’s Mojave Desert and in the Sonoran Desert in Arizona, alongside the Saguaro cactus.

Regarded as a treasure and with a national forest named after them, there are serious penalties for removing Joshua Trees from public land. But the property where my granddaughter lives looked naked and forlorn, the only lot for miles around without a single Joshua Tree. The trees had been removed several years ago, before her mother bought the house, and her father found their remains buried in the back yard before she was born.

As a person who looks for opportunities to celebrate life with rituals, the baby blessing of my one-month old granddaugher seemed a made-to-order occasion I couldn’t resist. And the lack of Joshua Trees at the baby’s house seemed to call to me as a condition we could remedy with a ritual. I enlisted the baby’s other grandmother who had baby Joshua Trees on her property and she said she was willing to bring them to plant during our grandparents’ ceremony.

Restoring native plants to the land seemed a worthy way to mark our granddaughter’s birth. And Joshua Trees demonstrate that, just as with a human baby; there is a delicate reliance on relationships in one’s surroundings. In this case a yucca moth must assist the plant to pollinate, and the tree provides food for her young who are born in its flowers. 

With songs and laughter, we planted one Joshua Tree in the back yard and one in the front, while spelling out our visions for the world we want our granddaughter to grow up in. “I see the world as a place of peace for all peoples.” “I see girls and women of all ages, being treated with dignity and respect in all countries around the globe.” 

We did our part to encourage a playful world as we juggled colorful scarves singularly and together in anticipation of the time Kyra Joy will be big enough to come and play with us. And as Krya Joy and the tree grow up together, we will all be reminded that the land, the trees, and, we the people, are all related.   

Published on Friday October 12, 2012 in Environment, Rituals and Women, Girls & the Feminine. 0 Comments Tags: .

Desert Song

We’re in the desert again, this time to attend a baby blessing for our granddaughter who lives here. There’s something about deserts that call to the spiritual side of people. I remember visiting Barry Stevens in Moab Utah, in 1973, and our family vacation in Sedona, Arizona in 1997; the red rock formations, evening light shows against the mountains, dry creek beds and sand everywhere. Maybe it’s the sand. There’s so much of it, and all those tiny grains help remind us of where we fit in to it all.

My son invited some monks to bless his baby daughter, a day and a month after she arrived. Friends and family gathered for the occasion – actually the grandparents gathered ahead of everyone else because mom and dad hadn’t had much sleep and gotten behind on house and yard maintenance. So we cleaned and swept and raked the sand, inside and outside, getting the house ready to welcome the monks and the baby’s new community.

We knew that the monks wouldn’t eat anything because they would have already had their one meal for the day. They’d take water, (seems a necessity in the desert) whatever your spiritual practice, but apparently they said yes to some iced green tea. My son told me they needed one more tea and glass of ice so I brought them and placed the items down in front of the monk who didn’t have anything in front of him. Just after I did that, the head monk picked up each of the three glasses and bottles of teas and placed them down again, in the same spot as before. It seemed odd to me, but later, when I learned that my daughter-in-law had been the person who placed the other glasses of ice and tea in front of the first two monks, I realize that this action was necessary because the monks cannot eat or drink anything presented to them by a woman.

The baby blessing began with the monks inviting the entire group to mediate with them while they chanted. We were instructed to first send loving kindness to ourselves, because if you cannot love yourself, you cannot love anyone else. We were instructed to send loving kindness to all those that we love, our family and friends, then next to those suffering with ill health or recent losses. Finally, we should send loving kindness to the whole world, to those with whom we disagree, and to the ancestors on the other side. The chanting of the monks supported our meditation and I came to a place that I’ve come to many times – everything becomes easy when we love. That changes the world from the love of power to the power of love.

Especially since the baby we are celebrating is a girl, I prayed that everyone gets this message soon. The world I see for her is one where women and girls are respected and treated with dignity and respect. Where men accept with gracious gratitude, what women have to offer them. And where practices that do not reinforce these values, fall away; as the desert lets go of whatever doesn’t work in the environment, and where only what is essential survives.  

Published on Monday October 1, 2012 in Personal Stories, Rituals, Songs and Women, Girls & the Feminine. 0 Comments Tags: , .

The Day of the Mother Has Arrived

Everywhere I look I seem to see a pregnant lady. This is more likely to happen in the summer time, when women aren’t wearing layers of clothing to keep warm. And I must admit, this particular noticing could be related to the fact my son and his partner are expecting their first child, my granddaughter, this September. Women dance PregnantI could just have babies on my mind.  There’s the very pregnant gal in my Zumba class that I first noticed the other day, due to her cute workout attire. When I complimented her outfit she commented she didn’t have much choice in what she could fit into these days. Her baby’s due early September.

Coming home and looking through the paper, I saw that Yahoo has just appointed their first women CEO. Of course, being a woman of a certain age, I rejoiced at this development. In reading the details, however I learned the more dramatic news – that 37 year old Marissa Mayer is pregnant and due to deliver her first child in October.

Wow! The times they have a-changed! In the old days, women kept the news of their being in a family way, a secret as long as possible. Marissa MayerThis was particularly necessary if they were interviewing for jobs or hoping to be promoted in their workplaces.  Having a pregnant lady at the helm of the ship is a big deal because of what it does to the traditional barriers of the good ol’boy network, the glass ceiling, the baby track, and people’s ignorance.

I’ve always felt this baby-carrying factor the heart of the matter, the one difference between the sexes that makes all the others seem moot. If this works out for all involved it doesn’t mean that it always will, but it is a demonstration, in an industry whose signature force is innovation and creativity, that to stay competitive, its best to not exclude the gifts of one half the population. I’m wishing Ms. Mayer and Yahoo the very best. I may just get that pregnant lady in my Zumba class to help me celebrate.

Published on Saturday July 21, 2012 in Technology and Women, Girls & the Feminine. 0 Comments Tags: , .

Nuns’ Bus Stops In Pittsburgh

The enormous graphically decorated “rock star” type bus pulled up in front of the office of Tim Murphy, (R) in Mt. Lebanon and stops before a cheering crowd. A couple of men in suits start a chant to welcome them. “The nuns on the bus say fairness now,“ fairness now,” to the tune of a children’s folk song.  Looking around at the crowd, I’m guessing many of them learned fairness principles from the nuns while they were in  grade school. It’s one of the principles they taught and one of the principles they live, as they operate social services agencies and hospitals around the country, serving the poor and disenfranchised.

Sr. Simone Campbell disembarks waving, along with several other sisters from Network, a social justice lobby in Washington DC. They’re on a two-week tour of the Midwest to highlight the need for economic justice in our country’s budget. They visit the representative’s staff and then talk with the crowd of mostly seasoned activists, holding signs that attest to the sisters’ moral authority -

 “Do Corporate Prophets help all people? Nuns do!”

The nuns have been in trouble lately, some say for their support of the health care bill. While the American bishops were worried about contraceptives in health care plans, the nuns worked to help the bill that would insure 40 million people will have health care.

The Vatican assigned a male representative to oversea these “radical feminist,” whose message is about economic justice. Their tour is to highlight the disaster to the poor and middle class of the Ryan budget.

Sr. Simone taught us their chant. “Reasonable Revenue for Responsible Programs, Reasonable Revenue for Responsible Programs.” Sister urged us to chant this message at the state and local levels as well.

Published on Friday June 29, 2012 in Health and Women, Girls & the Feminine. 0 Comments Tags: , .

A Tribute to my Sisters

The boys in the Vatican are picking on the sisters again. When I read that the male officials in the Vatican were investigating an organization of 57,113 U. S. nuns, I laughed. It seems the church hierarchy has run out of important issues to focus on like preventing child sexual abuse by priests. Now they must keep busy by investigating an organization of U.S nuns for “serious theological errors.”

As a woman reared by Catholic sisters throughout 13 years of my education, I was intrigued to find out what these errors might be. While the Catholic sisters have been focused on assisting those whose lives are threatened by the effects of poverty, educating children, meeting the health and social service needs of immigrants and other disenfranchised people, and conducting parish ministries, they are being called out for “remaining silent on the right to life.”

It made me smile to think about other things the sisters don’t do, like serving as priests, bishops, or cardinals, or sitting at the tables where important theological matters are discussed. I consider myself a post-denominational Catholic, and like the universities where I am an alum, I am most grateful for what I have learned in these organizations, and for what I am able to use in my present life. I’m especially grateful to the sisters and the lessons they’ve taught me that I have finally mastered. In my younger years, I would become angry with the male leaders of the church over their disrespect and mistreatment of women.

But now I collapse into nearly hysterical laughter when I read that the U.S Bishops’ doctrinal conference offered a formal critique of theologian Sister Elizabeth A. Johnson, accusing her of over-emphasizing feminine descriptions of God in her new book. The fact that I am able to laugh shows how far I’ve come. As the sisters’ taught, we must love our enemies and do good to those who would harm us. We must find compassion for those who do not know what the prophecies of First Peoples worldwide have predicted. The Divine Feminine, which has been missing from the altars of churches everywhere, is being returned to a place of prominence and respect.

“I think we scare them, “ Simone Campbell, a lawyer and executive director of  NETWORK, the sisters’ lobbying group. Perhaps the real newsflash for the boys in Rome is this; 5000 years of patriarchal rule is ending and we, the women are no longer afraid of you. The sisters have already been re-formed by their deeply spiritual good works, their brilliant educated intellects, and their relationship to God the Mother of us all, who I’m imagining, isn’t very proud of you.

Published on Sunday April 22, 2012 in Women, Girls & the Feminine. 6 Comments Tags: , , .

The Medicine and Magic of Objects

 My friend placed the music box on a blanket in the center of the room, displaying it with reverence for all to see. Running the palm of her hand across its shiny surface, she told the story of how it came to her. According to a cousin, her grandmother gave it to her, a favorite grandchild, in her will.  She starts the music and it’s song transports us all to a time before any of us were born.

I noticed the familiar statue on the bookcase. Memories of the occasion when our friend Jyoti first brought it to this space, fill the room. An insipid disease has stolen her memories from her, but we stand together, remembering on her behalf. I see again her sly smile as she told us what she said to the shopkeeper where she first saw it, “I must have this warrior goddess for my women’s group. I hope it isn’t too expensive, but even if I have to refinance my car or house, this archetypal image of the courageous invincible woman must be there.”

One summer, when my daughter was being treated for breast cancer at a major medical center, she presented me with a special, now most treasured gift for my birthday. Knowing that butterflies were special to me,  she purchased a butterfly pin at the hospital gift shop. The piece had been produced by an artist from the drawing of a child being treated for cancer, a portion of the proceeds going to fund the hospital’s family support program.  Nine years later, as I wear the butterfly on a chain around my neck, I’m reminded that to secure the pin, she had walked nearly a mile through the corridors of the medical center while pushing the infusion therapy pole to which she was attached.

Published on Tuesday April 17, 2012 in Personal Stories and Women, Girls & the Feminine. 2 Comments Tags: , .

The Business of Healthcare

After writing a letter to the editor of our local paper, in response to the downgrading of Highmark by the ratings firm Moody, http://tinyurl.com/d67964d I awoke with a strong memory from my own career in the health care field.  Between 1987 and 1997, my husband Richard and I fulfilled a dream of cofounding and co-directing a behavioral health care group practice, Iatreia, (named at our son’s suggestion, for “a place for healers” in ancient Greece.)

Not unlike what’s happening currently on healthcare’s medical side, by 1993, the number and complexity of third party payers, extended waits for reimbursements, increased paper work and requirements for quality assurance due diligence, and the refusal of some of our providers to accept the new financial realities of the marketplace, made running the business operations of our clinic a nightmare.

In 1995, in analyzing the clinic’s workflow, I identified 42 steps that were necessary, from the client’s first call for an appointment to the clinic eventually getting paid for services provided. If any of the steps were missing or done out of order, we would not be paid. In this environment where, as some friends suggested, “You’re doing everything right. It just isn’t working,” we began to entertain the possibility of being purchased

One of our first meetings with the company that did eventually purchase us, was held in their offices. The male executives of the company, whom we were familiar with, took this occasion to introduce us to their mid-level managers who were all women. In the opening remarks and introductions, one of the executives kept referring to our clinic as “Richard’s Place.” After his reference to “Richard’s Place” was repeated a half dozen times, the large group meeting broke into smaller groups and I could finally stop biting the inside of my mouth and exhale. One of the women in the smaller group turned to me and asked, “And what do you do at Iatreia?” I responded, “You’ve probably been in health care long enough to appreciate this – I am the co-founder and co-director of “Richard’s Place.”

Published on Sunday April 8, 2012 in Health, Personal Stories and Women, Girls & the Feminine. 1 Comment Tags: , .

The Politics of Dress

A young Indian woman in my neighborhood is expecting a baby. I know this because the smock she is wearing no longer hides this fact, though I’m sure it did throughout the winter months. When I was pregnant nearly half a century ago, a loose fitting maternity top like she was wearing was the fashion imperative in this country.  Sold in maternity shops, this garment allowed a woman to kept her secret socially for five or six months. Only in the last trimester could anyone make out the silhouette of her bulging pear-shaped belly. At that point, for me, when I could no longer fasten my coat around me, I experienced myself as uncomfortably “fat” and freezing cold in the wintertime.

A century ago, the word “pregnant” was never used and there was little need for special clothing since women who were “in a family way” were confined to their homes. According to one of my great aunts, it was considered poor taste to speak publicly of a woman being “in a family way.”  She maintained she never knew of her older sister’s condition before each child was born, until she would be asked to come over to assist her with the older children during her “confinement.”

Fast forward to today’s expectant mother – She seems to be making a political statement as well as a fashion one. She’s likely to be wearing the most figure hugging, spandex-type tank top she can find, over shorts or jeans. She walks proudly through the grocery store parking lot, seeming to enjoy the fact that the entire community can track the progress and stages of her growing belly. Other women her age and older, as their biological clocks tick on, look on in envy at one who has achieved this blessed state, something that perhaps may still be eluding them.

I’m amazed at what messages about our larger world we can get by paying attention to what people choose to wear. I’d love to hear what you’ve learned from “people watching” the fashion get-ups in your neighborhood.

 

Published on Wednesday April 4, 2012 in Personal Stories and Women, Girls & the Feminine. 0 Comments Tags: , .

Mad Women

Mad Men, the iconic television show of the 50s and 60s, has finally returned after an 18-month hiatus. I must admit to being a follower of the show, but the pause in the action has stretched and strained my connection to its characters and plot lines. The following morning after watching the second hour of the two-hour opening, I found my thoughts returning to the show. As I walked my dog along the riverfront, the women characters continued to linger in my mind. I wondered what will happen to them? And then I decide, without much pause, that I already know. Mostly I know what will not happen. 

The brilliant Joan will not become CFO though she will coach the male figurehead from behind the scenes for her entire career. I know this because I know the experience of my Aunt Dote who, for the 30 years of her career as an accountant ,was required periodically to train the men who were to become her bosses at the Ford Motor Company.

The hardworking, talented, and dedicated Peggy will not be promoted to partnership, as 40 years later I would not be included in the management team that formed, after the company I founded was purchased. And all those secretaries whose professional lives involve dodging the sexual harassment of their male bosses, or succumbing to it, will not be rewarded by stock options or golden parachutes when those same men decide their services are no longer needed.

We know this because 50 years later most women who’ve worked all their lives do not have the benefits and financial resources to live comfortably in their elder years.  Megan, and the other women who become wives of these same men, will not develop anything close to their full potential. Their energies will be spent pleasing their masters and staying youthful enough looking so a woman from their daughters’ generation will not replace them.

I know that things have changed, and other things are changing. But pardon me if I suggest, given the recent public discourse over women’s preventative health care,  many things have not changed nearly enough. And yes, it is a tribute to all women that some of us are able, on behalf of all of us, to get mad.

Published on Friday March 30, 2012 in Personal Stories and Women, Girls & the Feminine. 1 Comment Tags: , , , , .

Circles of Concern

I overheard several of my women friends admitting to one another that they don’t read the newspaper or watch television. Nearly a week after a gunman went into a local mental hospital, shot one man dead and wounded seven others before a campus policeman killed him, they hadn’t heard about the incident. I found this deeply disturbing.

I know these women to be sensitive, compassionate, spiritually oriented people, and I’m sure part of their refusal to not pay attention to the news is that much of what is broadcast as news, isn’t. And much of what is reported locally, nationally, and internationally, tells of horrific events in such graphic detail, viewers are at risk for developing vicarious trauma by just by reading or viewing the images.

Once the women heard about the shooting incident, they were appalled, and deeply concerned for the victims of such a senseless tragedy. For the family members, like the fiancée of the man that was killed, and his parents who had already lost their only other child, a daughter, when she was killed by her boy-friend a couple of years ago. Once they knew of them and what they are dealing with, they weep and wondered how such terrible tragedies can be visited on simple, good people.

One women expressed concern for the campus policeman who was put in the situation to have to take someone’s life. Used to dealing with tipsy teenagers and college pranksters, his heroic actions saved lives, but needing to shoot to kill would have been farthest thing from his mind when he reported to work that day.

Another women expressed concern for the patients in the hospital and the staff who were put on lock down for several hours. And what about the ripple effect involving others in the community? Until the city police could give the all clear to the schools and offices surrounding the incident, an entire neighborhood had to be locked down, leaving  hundreds of family members worrying and praying for their loved ones’ safe return.

There is danger for compassionate empathic people, in learning the details of even a single incident like this one. But with traditional media outlets cranking out news 24/7, and blogs, emails and facebook, we are all at risk for becoming overwhelmed. How many people can we afford to let in to our circle of concern because once we know about them, they are in our thoughts and prayers, our nightmares and dreams?

Published on Wednesday March 14, 2012 in Technology, the Big Body and Women, Girls & the Feminine. 3 Comments Tags: , .