Wednesday, May 23, 2007

At day's end

I have spent the day packing. I have bequeathed all of my belongings -- food, hanging files and file folders, my window fan and a floor lamp that I picked up from someone moving out of the dorm last December -- that I simply was not willing to ship home.

I got a ride to the post office, from a man with a truck, and suffered through an impatient postal service employee who didn’t really seem to understand that in that moment I was a good customer.

I was right, my two boxes had become six.

As they were piled outside of my room, I felt a real distance from those folks who are homeless or just happen to live in developing countries where stuff is a luxury that they do not afford. For as much as I barely packed anything for these 10 months in Berkeley, between book and folders full of weekly reading, my belongings have grown considerably.

I look forward to my ride to the airport tomorrow morning with my Aunt Irene, whom I had the pleasure of being connected this past 10 months. I will be happy to have my husband, Stephen, pick me up at Newark Airport, and transport me to the Upper Delaware. I feel conflicted that airplane travel is hard on our environment, and I am grateful that I will return to my home on the East Coast some 10 hours after I leave the West Coast. I can’t imagine the trip in a covered wagon or even a train --such is my attachment to my modern day living. But I know, now, that this modern-day living takes a huge toll on the animals and on other people and other nations.

There is a sense of sorrow in my awakening, and a sense of being totally present to my ability to hold that sorrow.

The journey continues. I will be happy to be home.

Saturday, May 19, 2007

Done, almost

There is finality to my activities now that classes are over. As I walked through the University of California at Berkeley campus last evening on my way to the Berkeley Sufi Dance Circle, I watched scores of undergraduate load up their cars, and head off to summer.

My own dorm slowly empties out, shifting belongs from one place to another. There is a room on each floor that returning students can store their stuff for the summer. I, on the other hand will be packing up my two boxes, that undoubtedly have become six, and send them back to the Upper Delaware.

I am well satisfied with my time here and feel that its purpose to root me in a spiritual quest has been achieved. An important lesson that I did not anticipate is that there are bonds of community, commonality and difference that are forged between peoples in a relatively small amount of time.

It is these connections that I will carry with me as I make my way back. It is in these connections that nothing is final at all.

Tuesday, May 15, 2007

This too shall pass

My time here in Berkeley is quickly coming a close. Most decisions that I make are predicated in one form or another on locking my dormitory door for the last time next Thursday morning. These include getting enough quarters for one more load of laundry and purchasing a pint of half-n-half for my morning coffee, instead of my usual quart.

All decisions should be so easy.

There is one more end-of-semester project to finish and I have all day tomorrow to do it. I have been working steadily for the last two weeks and am pleased with the work that I have produced. My centering book is beautiful and the felt pieces, pictured below, work well with my journal text and quotes from my reading.

The projects give me a great opportunity to review my semester and to experience and actualize all that I have learned. While I feel more centered in the validity of my experience in the world, I have a much better appreciation for the other.

I think I have become a better listener and I understand the amazing privilege it is to simply live my life.

Wednesday, May 02, 2007

Of this I know

My world shook for a second, and I recognized it immediately as an earthquake.

It is the second time that I have felt the earth jolt during my 10-month adventure here in Berkeley. This quake was not as strong as the first one. I pause for a second or two, not really knowing how earthquakes go, to see if the shaking would continue. But it is here only for a brief second and then it is gone.

There is no pause in the laughter from the courtyard and I wonder if the quake was felt at ground level. Still, my experience tells me that I felt the building shake and heard the slight windlike sound whether it’s confirmed by anyone or not. This surety surprises me as I have been unsure of most things these days and have been struggling with the concept of the existence of God, especially in relation to the upheaval in the world.

Why is it easy to accept my experience of earthquake after two brief encounters and not my experience of God after a lifetime of experience? Is the difference that one can be measured on earth and the other one too omnipresent to calculate?

I have been burdened with my questions at this semester’s end and have found myself wanting in my lack of answers and clarity.

But in this instance, I am happy with the questions raised and that California did not fall into the ocean, today.