In the city, I had little opportunity to notice the natural world. For most of the time that I lived there, I was in one apartment after another. Trees and grassy areas were little green dots scattered amidst concrete and bricks. If I went walking in the neighborhoods, I had opportunity sometimes to watch dogs or cats or even, briefly, peacocks. For a while, a horse grazed across the street from one of my apartments. Even when I lived in a house, the yard was small and bathed in summer sun, and the lone willow I planted did not thrive, and the only natural things I experienced were insects and weeds. Well, I did get addicted to the singing of mockingbirds, but that was about the limit of my enjoyment.
But my goodness! In my home town I have discovered another world! Or should I say I have rediscovered the original world? My backyard is large and shaded by maples. In the past year I have enjoyed the pageant that marches through this yard.
There are squirrels. I have always enjoyed watching squirrels chasing each other up, down, and around trees. How in the world can they dart along such narrow branches or even telephone and power cables? They never seem to fall.
There are rabbits. Small, brown, thin, quick rabbits. The nearby farms have been overrun by coyotes and deer, and the rabbits have come into town. I'm sure the gardeners hate to see them coming, but I haven't yet tired of watching them as, like the squirrels, they chase each other and dodge and just seem to enjoy the act of running.
Oh, yes, the deer. I haven't seen any of them in my backyard, of course, because they are out in the country. So is my sister. I don't remember the occasion now - maybe it was Christmas Eve - but I was driving over to my sister's home, and I got my first close look at deer. There were three of them heading through the field toward the road, and I knew they were going to cross in front of me. I hit the brakes and just sat there, fascinated, as they crossed the road; they would leap and hang frozen in the air for a second, then come down and leap again, and they were across the road in no time. I still see that picture of brown deer silhouetted against gray sky and white snow.
Not to mention the dash of color if a male cardinal happens to be sitting on a tree branch as you drive past.
Oh, yes, birds. Robins and starlings and wrens and woodpeckers and cardinals and I even saw a goldfinch once or twice. In fact, that is what made me want to write this post. We had a series of nasty storms blow through one day last week, dangerously high winds, lots of rain, you name it. A lot of sticks get blown off trees when that happens, and after the excitement was over I was outside starting to play my own version of Pick Up Sticks. I found a bird nest that had been blown out of a tree. I have watched the labor - the bird picking up a piece of grass, the wings straining to lift, the bird flying up to the nest site only to come back for another piece of grass . . . I stared at the little oval on the ground. I could see how the grasses and weeds had been stuck together with mud and formed into this oval. It was just a nest to the birds, but to me it was a marvel. How did the bird form such a neat and perfect shape? It must have sat on the branch and built the nest around itself. And there weren't any manuals; the bird just knew what to do. Isn't this world a marvel?
One of the things I've needed to do, this past year, was to slow down. Internally. Notice the small events of life again. It must be working. Our Creator is in everything, I believe, including that bird as well as the grasses it wove into that oval nest. And I can take the time to find Him (or Her, or It) there.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Monday, August 27, 2007
Mother Teresa
There is a new book coming out about Mother Teresa. Come Be My Light: The Private Writings of the "Saint of Calcutta" is its name. It sounds like a book I would like to have.
Probably none of us guessed that this nun, tiny as she was, projecting a heart and a will as fierce as a lioness defending her cubs, was inwardly as weak and doubting as the rest of us can be. I certainly had no suspicion of it. Does it affect my opinion of Mother Teresa? In a way, yes, it does. It strengthens it.
Because I am a contemplative and interested in mysticism, I have read about some of the historical saints. In fact, most of their lives were tough. There was a lot of suffering going on - physical illnesses, spiritually dark periods, difficulties in their monastic houses or with church authorities, you name it. It isn't easy to be a saint.
Mother Teresa has really earned the right to be named with these others. Not only her through work, or her strength of will, but her strength of faith. Yes, strength of faith. You can't serve the way she did, with all the doubt and suffering she experienced, unless there is a bedrock of faith supporting the whole structure.
Apparently she had, when she was younger, some experience of contact with God, and then somehow lost that sense of contact. And never experienced it again. No wonder she had doubts! To have that, and watch it slip from you, and there is nothing you can do about it - that would hurt, big time. I can't imagine a worse hurt than that.
But in spite of all that, she went on, dedicating herself to work that she felt called to do, teaching us by her words and example, and that takes a degree of strength that most of us can only aspire to.
I used to respect Mother Teresa. Now I admire her.
I used to think she was a tower of strength. Now I know she was.
I used to think she was settled in a powerful faith. Now I know she had doubts and questions like I do.
We need heroes of our faith. We need examples of devotion and service. We need them from past centuries, and we need them from our own time as well. Mother Teresa is such a figure, and her humanity cannot stand in her way.
Probably none of us guessed that this nun, tiny as she was, projecting a heart and a will as fierce as a lioness defending her cubs, was inwardly as weak and doubting as the rest of us can be. I certainly had no suspicion of it. Does it affect my opinion of Mother Teresa? In a way, yes, it does. It strengthens it.
Because I am a contemplative and interested in mysticism, I have read about some of the historical saints. In fact, most of their lives were tough. There was a lot of suffering going on - physical illnesses, spiritually dark periods, difficulties in their monastic houses or with church authorities, you name it. It isn't easy to be a saint.
Mother Teresa has really earned the right to be named with these others. Not only her through work, or her strength of will, but her strength of faith. Yes, strength of faith. You can't serve the way she did, with all the doubt and suffering she experienced, unless there is a bedrock of faith supporting the whole structure.
Apparently she had, when she was younger, some experience of contact with God, and then somehow lost that sense of contact. And never experienced it again. No wonder she had doubts! To have that, and watch it slip from you, and there is nothing you can do about it - that would hurt, big time. I can't imagine a worse hurt than that.
But in spite of all that, she went on, dedicating herself to work that she felt called to do, teaching us by her words and example, and that takes a degree of strength that most of us can only aspire to.
I used to respect Mother Teresa. Now I admire her.
I used to think she was a tower of strength. Now I know she was.
I used to think she was settled in a powerful faith. Now I know she had doubts and questions like I do.
We need heroes of our faith. We need examples of devotion and service. We need them from past centuries, and we need them from our own time as well. Mother Teresa is such a figure, and her humanity cannot stand in her way.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
It Can Too Happen Here and It Just Might
I was watching a program on PBS last night, just before I went to bed, and I wished I hadn't. It consisted of various interviews with what we would call moderate Islamic imams, Muslims who oppose the conservative movement to form an Islamic state. (The Muslims who favor the formation of an Islamic state, as it turned out, think they themselves are the moderates.)
What I inferred from the program was this: The people interviewed were not Muslims living in the Middle East. One controversy over an Islamic state was in Canada, one in Denmark, and one in fact was in the United States. There are mosques in these countries, led by imams who are working for an Islamic state (that was never totally defined). Their idea of an Islamic state is that an area is converted to Islam and is under Islamic law, so that government and religion go hand in hand. It did not sound like these imams were going to be content with having their own little private areas of authority in the communities where they live. They sounded to me as though they were speaking of nations, not local areas.
I also concluded that the pro-Islamic state imams are nothing but petty tyrants. They suppress opposition, distort the truth, and one of them was caught on camera talking about killing the moderate who led the opposition to him. These imams are more interested in poolitical power than in their religion, from the looks of it.
That scares me. This is happening in the West! Maybe if I were a man it wouldn't be so upsetting, but as a woman I have no reason to be interested in the conservative versions of Islam. Who is it who stones women for marital unfaithfulness, imagined or real? Who is it who forbids a woman to be away from home unless a man is with her? And who makes women wear those uncomfortable-looking outfits? Not even in color, for pete's sake, but unrelieved black!
The thing that really hurts me the most is this: I think God is more concerned about how we treat each other than He (or She, or It) is about what we believe. And when we kill others over an issue like right beliefs, we are totally barking up the wrong tree. God is so far beyond all our efforts to understand and explain Him that it is downright ludicrous. We get so carried away with our doctrines and theologies, and they accomplish very little when all is said and done. It is good that we codify our beliefs; we need that foundation for how we live. But let's put it into perspective. They are only beliefs about God, and they cannot be taken as incontrovertible fact.
The Christian takes Jesus as the example, and Jesus never turned anyone away from him because of what the person believed. If Jesus didn't, then God doesn't, because Jesus shows God to us. That's proof enough for me.
I am perfectly content to let the Muslims believe as they wish, and worship as they wish, and honor God as they wish. (But I do wish they would stop killing innocent people in the name of the God of love!) All I ask from them is that they grant me the same freedom.
What I inferred from the program was this: The people interviewed were not Muslims living in the Middle East. One controversy over an Islamic state was in Canada, one in Denmark, and one in fact was in the United States. There are mosques in these countries, led by imams who are working for an Islamic state (that was never totally defined). Their idea of an Islamic state is that an area is converted to Islam and is under Islamic law, so that government and religion go hand in hand. It did not sound like these imams were going to be content with having their own little private areas of authority in the communities where they live. They sounded to me as though they were speaking of nations, not local areas.
I also concluded that the pro-Islamic state imams are nothing but petty tyrants. They suppress opposition, distort the truth, and one of them was caught on camera talking about killing the moderate who led the opposition to him. These imams are more interested in poolitical power than in their religion, from the looks of it.
That scares me. This is happening in the West! Maybe if I were a man it wouldn't be so upsetting, but as a woman I have no reason to be interested in the conservative versions of Islam. Who is it who stones women for marital unfaithfulness, imagined or real? Who is it who forbids a woman to be away from home unless a man is with her? And who makes women wear those uncomfortable-looking outfits? Not even in color, for pete's sake, but unrelieved black!
The thing that really hurts me the most is this: I think God is more concerned about how we treat each other than He (or She, or It) is about what we believe. And when we kill others over an issue like right beliefs, we are totally barking up the wrong tree. God is so far beyond all our efforts to understand and explain Him that it is downright ludicrous. We get so carried away with our doctrines and theologies, and they accomplish very little when all is said and done. It is good that we codify our beliefs; we need that foundation for how we live. But let's put it into perspective. They are only beliefs about God, and they cannot be taken as incontrovertible fact.
The Christian takes Jesus as the example, and Jesus never turned anyone away from him because of what the person believed. If Jesus didn't, then God doesn't, because Jesus shows God to us. That's proof enough for me.
I am perfectly content to let the Muslims believe as they wish, and worship as they wish, and honor God as they wish. (But I do wish they would stop killing innocent people in the name of the God of love!) All I ask from them is that they grant me the same freedom.
Monday, August 20, 2007
Sin and the United States
As I channel surfed over the weekend, I found a station broadcasting a sermon by Rev. Charles Stanley. Rev. Stanley and I don't always agree on things, but often he does make sense even to this nonconservative, nonfundamentalist person.
He was talking about God's judgment of the United States. He was warning his hearers that one day God will wash His hands of us (does God even have hands?) and send some dire fate onto us because of our national sins.
I did not stick around to listen to all of his sermon because, after all, I was channel surfing, and on this occasion I expected that I would not agree with him. Maybe I would have; I'll never know now.
But it made me wonder. Just what sins was Rev. Stanley concerned about? I hope they weren't the likes of abortion, homosexuals, women's and gay rights, and the evils of teaching evolution in the public schools.
I hope they were more on the line of economic injustice, legal injustice, greed, poverty, crime, our rape of this planet and its resources, and our overpopulation. Not to mention all the ways we kill each other.
The Old Testament prophets all used to warn their country about God's judgment because of injustice. The people were to care for the orphans, widows, and strangers. The prophets had a lot more to say about those things than about whatever people did in their own homes and beds.
We may or may not believe, today, in God's judgment on our nation. In fact, many believe that this country has God's favor and is totally safe from such judgment.
I think that we have made a lot of terrible mistakes, some well intentioned, quite a few not. I think that we have gone a long way toward weakening ourselves and making ourselves vulnerable. I do not believe that God is judgmental. But if we fail to clean up our act we will ultimately have to deal with the consequences of our failure.
I didn't, as I said earlier, listen to Rev. Stanley's complete remarks. But I hope he addressed the real issues of our time.
He was talking about God's judgment of the United States. He was warning his hearers that one day God will wash His hands of us (does God even have hands?) and send some dire fate onto us because of our national sins.
I did not stick around to listen to all of his sermon because, after all, I was channel surfing, and on this occasion I expected that I would not agree with him. Maybe I would have; I'll never know now.
But it made me wonder. Just what sins was Rev. Stanley concerned about? I hope they weren't the likes of abortion, homosexuals, women's and gay rights, and the evils of teaching evolution in the public schools.
I hope they were more on the line of economic injustice, legal injustice, greed, poverty, crime, our rape of this planet and its resources, and our overpopulation. Not to mention all the ways we kill each other.
The Old Testament prophets all used to warn their country about God's judgment because of injustice. The people were to care for the orphans, widows, and strangers. The prophets had a lot more to say about those things than about whatever people did in their own homes and beds.
We may or may not believe, today, in God's judgment on our nation. In fact, many believe that this country has God's favor and is totally safe from such judgment.
I think that we have made a lot of terrible mistakes, some well intentioned, quite a few not. I think that we have gone a long way toward weakening ourselves and making ourselves vulnerable. I do not believe that God is judgmental. But if we fail to clean up our act we will ultimately have to deal with the consequences of our failure.
I didn't, as I said earlier, listen to Rev. Stanley's complete remarks. But I hope he addressed the real issues of our time.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Being good in order to get to heaven
I just finished opining somewhere on the subject of whether you can get into heaven by being good. I have to admit that I said only half of what I have come to believe about this.
What I said was that if you enter into an intimate personal relationship with God, heaven actually comes to you, because nothing can be better than living with God. And whatever you believe is "good" is what you will want to do because that honors God.
That's true as far as it goes.
I left it at that because the article will appear in a string of articles by practicing Christians and I wanted it to be in context with its surroundings. Maybe someone will read it, that way, and think about what I said. I hope so.
But here, where (frankly) I am anonymous, I will go a tad further. We do carry God inside us. A few years ago I found within myself what I have been calling the Contact Point, and I had gone nowhere so it had to be within me. The presence of this Contact Point convinces me that I am already a piece of God and have always been a piece of God. If God is eternal, so am I. How can I be anything else?
So being good in order to get to heaven, in the sense that you don't spend eternity in a fire pit (or, if Larry Niven and Jerry Pournelle's sendoff of Dante's version of hell can be believed, a pit of . . . well, it's dark and runny and you regularly deposit some of this substance in your bathroom commode), seems to be a nonissue. If you are a piece of God, you will return to that from Whom you came when you shed your physical flesh. Where else could you go?
Does that mean you don't have to be good? (Who defines what is good, anyway?) We are free to choose, good or bad, one way or the other. But I will venture to say that the more you work to act according to what you believe is good, the more aware you will become of the Presence within you, and that is good indeed!
What I said was that if you enter into an intimate personal relationship with God, heaven actually comes to you, because nothing can be better than living with God. And whatever you believe is "good" is what you will want to do because that honors God.
That's true as far as it goes.
I left it at that because the article will appear in a string of articles by practicing Christians and I wanted it to be in context with its surroundings. Maybe someone will read it, that way, and think about what I said. I hope so.
But here, where (frankly) I am anonymous, I will go a tad further. We do carry God inside us. A few years ago I found within myself what I have been calling the Contact Point, and I had gone nowhere so it had to be within me. The presence of this Contact Point convinces me that I am already a piece of God and have always been a piece of God. If God is eternal, so am I. How can I be anything else?
So being good in order to get to heaven, in the sense that you don't spend eternity in a fire pit (or, if Larry Niven and Jerry Pournelle's sendoff of Dante's version of hell can be believed, a pit of . . . well, it's dark and runny and you regularly deposit some of this substance in your bathroom commode), seems to be a nonissue. If you are a piece of God, you will return to that from Whom you came when you shed your physical flesh. Where else could you go?
Does that mean you don't have to be good? (Who defines what is good, anyway?) We are free to choose, good or bad, one way or the other. But I will venture to say that the more you work to act according to what you believe is good, the more aware you will become of the Presence within you, and that is good indeed!
Monday, August 13, 2007
Stranger In My Home Town? Yikes!
It has taken me a while to realize just how homesick I had become, living in that thar city 800 miles south of here.
The city had its points. Concerts. Universities. Libraries. Sports teams. Museums. Theaters. Oodles of shopping malls.
The city had other points too. Traffic. Pollution. Stress. Other people's dirt. Crime. Shoot, in that one apartment complex I got mugged, had a shipment of checks stolen, had two incidents of vandalism on my car, and my apartment got broken into. Twice! I had friends who didn't want to come and visit me even in the daytime, for crying out loud. Why didn't I move out? I couldn't afford a safer apartment that was as large as what I was renting in that crime center, that's why.
But now here I am, back home again in . . . well, Midwest farm country. I still lock the car every time I leave it, but I probably don't have to. I have lived off supermarket produce so long that it doesn't occur to me to harvest the rhubarb patch in the back yard of this house.
I was driving over to my sister's house last night, and (not for the first time) I thought of how beautiful farm country really is. It isn't exciting, no. It is flat or perhaps "rolling" a little. But last spring I enjoyed the sight of dark brown earth grooved by perfectly straight rows of green plants poking their heads up into the sunlight. And I have spent the entire summer enjoying the colors of the various crops as they grow, the contrasts between dark green beans and lighter green cornstalks with light brown tassles on top.
My sister and I drove together to a nearby town for an ice cream social followed by a band concert. This is archetypal rural life: a summer night with ice cream, cake, and band music in the city park. The band was good, the music had a lot of variety, and I sat there with my sister and had a whopping good time.
And when I got home I would like to say it was a quiet evening, but the night critters were almost deafeningly loud as I went into the house.
Still, I feel like a stranger. I grew up here (well, from the fifth grade on), graduated from high school here. My parents retired and died here. After high school I went to college, started to get work away from here, drifted off, and I eventually wound up in that city. I came back from time to time but I gradually lost contact with most of the people I had known in my youth. But here I am, back home, and a few weeks ago my high school class celebrated its 45th reunion. Forty-five!
After 45 years. I don't know very many people any more. The folks I grew up with, those who stayed here, I don't even recognize when I see them. I don't remember who married whom. And of course there are other people whom I am meeting now for the first time. Most of the people I actually recognize are from my parents' generation, and I enjoy it when they speak of my parents. But they are the only people I feel like I know!
I hadn't expected to feel like a stranger in my home town. There were some things I had expected, but that wasn't one of them. It will pass, though, as I continue to live here and see these folks again and again. There is a 45-year gap between then and now, but we can pick it up again.
The city had its points. Concerts. Universities. Libraries. Sports teams. Museums. Theaters. Oodles of shopping malls.
The city had other points too. Traffic. Pollution. Stress. Other people's dirt. Crime. Shoot, in that one apartment complex I got mugged, had a shipment of checks stolen, had two incidents of vandalism on my car, and my apartment got broken into. Twice! I had friends who didn't want to come and visit me even in the daytime, for crying out loud. Why didn't I move out? I couldn't afford a safer apartment that was as large as what I was renting in that crime center, that's why.
But now here I am, back home again in . . . well, Midwest farm country. I still lock the car every time I leave it, but I probably don't have to. I have lived off supermarket produce so long that it doesn't occur to me to harvest the rhubarb patch in the back yard of this house.
I was driving over to my sister's house last night, and (not for the first time) I thought of how beautiful farm country really is. It isn't exciting, no. It is flat or perhaps "rolling" a little. But last spring I enjoyed the sight of dark brown earth grooved by perfectly straight rows of green plants poking their heads up into the sunlight. And I have spent the entire summer enjoying the colors of the various crops as they grow, the contrasts between dark green beans and lighter green cornstalks with light brown tassles on top.
My sister and I drove together to a nearby town for an ice cream social followed by a band concert. This is archetypal rural life: a summer night with ice cream, cake, and band music in the city park. The band was good, the music had a lot of variety, and I sat there with my sister and had a whopping good time.
And when I got home I would like to say it was a quiet evening, but the night critters were almost deafeningly loud as I went into the house.
Still, I feel like a stranger. I grew up here (well, from the fifth grade on), graduated from high school here. My parents retired and died here. After high school I went to college, started to get work away from here, drifted off, and I eventually wound up in that city. I came back from time to time but I gradually lost contact with most of the people I had known in my youth. But here I am, back home, and a few weeks ago my high school class celebrated its 45th reunion. Forty-five!
After 45 years. I don't know very many people any more. The folks I grew up with, those who stayed here, I don't even recognize when I see them. I don't remember who married whom. And of course there are other people whom I am meeting now for the first time. Most of the people I actually recognize are from my parents' generation, and I enjoy it when they speak of my parents. But they are the only people I feel like I know!
I hadn't expected to feel like a stranger in my home town. There were some things I had expected, but that wasn't one of them. It will pass, though, as I continue to live here and see these folks again and again. There is a 45-year gap between then and now, but we can pick it up again.
Wednesday, August 8, 2007
This Is Me
I am a child, a Particle, a Spark (take your pick) of that which we call God.
The thing that drives me is the desire to be as close to God as I can, as much of the time as I can. Because I am not separate from God (Source, Spirit, Universe, the Divine, take your pick) it is not so much a matter of finding God but being more aware of God’s Presence with me.
My purpose is to express what I have been made to be.
What I have been made to be is a seeker of truth, knowledge, and wisdom. To express this being I seek truth, knowledge, and wisdom wherever I am, in whatever I am doing, and in whomever I happen to be with. But, bookworm that I am, I like to read and also explore various types of spiritual practice as well.
Because truth, knowledge, and wisdom are not to be held for my own usage, I also express my being by sharing what I learn with others.
My personal mission statement therefore urges me to focus this sharing so that I “explore, share, and promote” an intimate personal relationship with the Divine not only in myself but also in others.
I am a Christian in that I strive to follow the teachings and example of Jesus of Nazareth.
However, I have also come to know that I am loved unconditionally and absolutely (as is every person), and to desire mystical experiences of God (such as Jesus himself enjoyed). These developments have all but dissolved my relationship with the church in which I grew up, for it offers me no support in the growth I desire.
As for my physical life, I am a classically trained musician, a devotee of mystery and science fiction, a lover of animals in general and cats in particular. I am a contemplative. I am overeducated for the kind of work I have had to do (I haven’t been able to make a living in music).
Now I am rebuilding my life. I became convinced that city living was hazardous to my health, I realized that I desired to make substantial changes in my life, and so I moved back to my home town in the rural Midwest.
That was just a year ago, so the changes are still growing. All too slowly! But there are signs of progress toward the new life which I desire. I will be conscious of God all around me (as well as within), I will be able to live by intention rather than by accident, and I can use my strengths to open people’s minds and hearts to a new kind of relationship with our Creator.
It is time for us to stop arguing and start working together if humanity is to survive. I believe with all my heart that the way for us to do that is to learn to love one another. This we cannot do until we can understand that we have more commonalities than differences. This we cannot do until we understand that we are not separated, but all connected, all branches on one tree.
In the years that remain to me, I desire to do something to help in this effort of reconciliation and cooperation.
The thing that drives me is the desire to be as close to God as I can, as much of the time as I can. Because I am not separate from God (Source, Spirit, Universe, the Divine, take your pick) it is not so much a matter of finding God but being more aware of God’s Presence with me.
My purpose is to express what I have been made to be.
What I have been made to be is a seeker of truth, knowledge, and wisdom. To express this being I seek truth, knowledge, and wisdom wherever I am, in whatever I am doing, and in whomever I happen to be with. But, bookworm that I am, I like to read and also explore various types of spiritual practice as well.
Because truth, knowledge, and wisdom are not to be held for my own usage, I also express my being by sharing what I learn with others.
My personal mission statement therefore urges me to focus this sharing so that I “explore, share, and promote” an intimate personal relationship with the Divine not only in myself but also in others.
I am a Christian in that I strive to follow the teachings and example of Jesus of Nazareth.
However, I have also come to know that I am loved unconditionally and absolutely (as is every person), and to desire mystical experiences of God (such as Jesus himself enjoyed). These developments have all but dissolved my relationship with the church in which I grew up, for it offers me no support in the growth I desire.
As for my physical life, I am a classically trained musician, a devotee of mystery and science fiction, a lover of animals in general and cats in particular. I am a contemplative. I am overeducated for the kind of work I have had to do (I haven’t been able to make a living in music).
Now I am rebuilding my life. I became convinced that city living was hazardous to my health, I realized that I desired to make substantial changes in my life, and so I moved back to my home town in the rural Midwest.
That was just a year ago, so the changes are still growing. All too slowly! But there are signs of progress toward the new life which I desire. I will be conscious of God all around me (as well as within), I will be able to live by intention rather than by accident, and I can use my strengths to open people’s minds and hearts to a new kind of relationship with our Creator.
It is time for us to stop arguing and start working together if humanity is to survive. I believe with all my heart that the way for us to do that is to learn to love one another. This we cannot do until we can understand that we have more commonalities than differences. This we cannot do until we understand that we are not separated, but all connected, all branches on one tree.
In the years that remain to me, I desire to do something to help in this effort of reconciliation and cooperation.
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