I was graced with this quote from a friend this morning:
"The universe is a communion and a community. We ourselves are that communion becoming conscious of itself." - Thomas Berry
As we approach the 10th anniversary of the 2001, September 11th wake-up call, I am noticing some things that I was too innocent to see back then. I have forgiven myself for needing to be jolted awake to a calling to write...back then, and now. Ten years ago, my oldest son was 6. My twins were 4. My youngest was less than 2. I was home schooling. I had a child with a life threatening condition to be treated. I was caring for an organic orchard, and was otherwise engaged in learning to live sustainably in the midst of a slowly deteriorating family dynamic.
When the 9/11 tragedy emerged, I didn't experience sudden shock. Something too inevitable and familiar seemed to be observable to me. The "why question" wasn't satisfying because the true cause, ultimately, is the critical mass of thought patterns within the collective consciousness we share. My focus became more concerned with what would emerge from then on: how we were exposed to misleading information, and how our leaders chosen course of action began to impact America's opinion of itself.
During the initial sleepless nights, after days of hearing friends spout off anger or engage in the fear such events provoke, I became aware of listening differently. Through my spiritual interests then, I was involved in a weekly group that was studying A Course in Miracles (ACIM). It was doing a serious number on my ability to listen: making it deeper and richer, and a little scary. I experienced some disorientation mentally. My awareness of the thoughts I heard within my head made me realize how little I understood about the effects of our actual thought processes on present and future events. I felt them, of course. But I was surrounded by small children with simple needs and big people who were complicating life by the minute.
At first, I was overwhelmed by a guilt I have yet to identify. Probably linked to the dogma of original sin, but who knows? I don't subscribe to original sin, but the feeling of guilt was just there. I kept asking myself: what and who am I responsible for? What or who am I responsible to? How can I understand this situation enough to even respond to it appropriately? I didn't feel hopeless or helpless, exactly. I felt galvanized to take action...not to flee, not to fight. But I didn't want to freeze solid and be incapable of responding to whatever I might be called to do, either.
Taking stock of my family responsibilities, I realized I could write for the sake of clarity. If anything came of it, I could share it and see where it went from there. In this way I filled over a dozen large journals. I should probably mention I was also the director of a small non-profit, serving families with children newly diagnosed with diabetes. What this really means in translation is that my writing window was from 4 a.m. until 7 a.m. on most days. My then husband would leave for work as I was coming in from my makeshift office. Meals, orchard care, assisting my children with their learning, and the non-profit endeavors took their daily chunk of labor and love.
The orchard I cared for was a blessing. I could attend to nature and be calmed by its rhythms, while my head was in congress with thoughts and ideas seeking a place to land. I would try out sentences while pruning trees, or picking fruit, or hanging out laundry. My children yet recall I was "talking to the trees."
Yesterday, I looked at pictures from that time period and my children look healthy and stress free. A rough road stretched between then and now, so it's sometimes hard to remember a wholesome life was in the works. We relocated to this island, based on an intuitive hunch and a son's dream "that we were going to live in a place surrounded by water." We have since gone through the edgy business of a divorce. However, before our personal emergencies arose, I managed to produce a 25 page, self-published chapbook. This was entitled: Purple Mountain Majesty, Peace Poems in Letters and Prayers (ISBN 0-9742779-0-8; Morgan L. Paige). I was very new to computers then, so the little volume is freckled with some typographical errors. Despite that, it was well reviewed in the Hope Dance Journal of San Luis Obispo, CA, by the then local Poet Laureate, Jane Elsdon.
The chapbook sold out in less than a year. The journey through a book fair, placing books in a couple of stores, and being invited to readings and rallies in California and Washington, gave me a glimpse of possibilities I wanted to pursue. I thought of my work as inspirational, though some saw it as political. More unstoppable life happened. I kept up my intensive journaling. Though there were no articles of my own to publish. Processing immense change in a small time frame was the order of the next 5 years. I was generally taking care of business and occasionally remembering to breathe. During the 3-4am shift of not sleeping, like I was supposed to, I wondered when I would get back to my writing.
It wasn't until 2009, when a friend here on Orcas Island taught me how to set up a blog. This became my reintroduction to the self-publishing world. I have warmed to it slowly. Real trust is built on baby steps, yes? I am finally near the end of the remnants of some unfinished accomplishments. And this means fresh beginnings!
The idea of a 10th anniversary edition is taking form. I have used this blog to revise some of those earlier poems and visions of peace. The innocence of my first attempt is matured by some hard won wisdom. Spiritual perception is not so easy to articulate with words. The quote I started this post with speaks to community awakening into its own consciousness. This is what I believe is alive in us right now.
I live in a unique community. By virtue of its rural proximity and high ratio of artists, professionals, and conservation land ethics, there are many causes to join. Some people naively move here thinking they can hide out from the big, wacky world and its problems. Nope. Every hand on deck is needed. New residents are often surprised to find themselves volunteering on projects that they never imagined for themselves in any time or place in their lives.
The first time I came to Orcas Island I understood that this was a place where children and land came first. It was in the air. A place to roll up your sleeves for the land or the schools, and to enjoy meditation and yoga and the arts. Our population's diversity is slowly increasing. The economic challenges have tapped into every one's creative muscles. This is a place to reckon with yourself and whatever you believe community represents, because you can't get away from either. In the personal scheme of things, peace is an understanding that surpasses all thought (Divine). In the larger hologram, peace is a vision that expands to embrace the web of all life.
When I first moved here in the Fall of 2003, a confidante said: "You are to be congratulated for listening to your children (and my son's dream). They have led you to your true community." The depth of purpose I feel is tempered with the understanding that difficulty accompanies great vision. I live on an island of visionaries. And we tend to get things done.
We can be a small and potent seed for what is yet to come. If I may yet be a living spokesperson for peace, I pray it will be from the heart of the educating community. If we let the evidence for true peace be modeled for our children, through us, they will have the chance to be the new solutionaries (see link: Education on Purpose). Until then, may you be awake, alive, and playful.
