Equal Is Not the Same

Columbia, Missouri

July 25, 2011

12:53 p.m.

Equal is Not the Same

If particular care and attention is not paid to the Ladies we are determined to foment a Rebellion, and will not hold ourselves bound by any Laws in which we have no voice, or Representation."          --Abigail Adams, 1776

I was told recently by a man I respect greatly that in his opinion our Sole 2 Soul Walk mission was flawed.  His argument centered around the notion of equality.  “Men and women are not equal,” he asserted, implying that to “imagine a world where women are equally-valued decision makers in partnership with men worldwide,” as our mission statement suggests, is not only a vain hope, it is out of sync with the divine order of things.

As I listened intently to this accomplished and highly successful gentleman, and observed him in several contexts, both personal and professional, I realized that his view was consistent with deeply held beliefs -- more like truth principles -- to which he had dedicated his life.  In several sessions of conversations over a three-day period adding up to more than 10 hours of face to face conversation with my daughter Viveka and myself, combined with deep immersion into his domain and lifestyle, we marveled at the beauty and harmony of what he had created.  In all of the areas which I value:  consciousness, culture, community, creativity, and communication I saw nothing but integrity, consistency, wisdom, power and love operating through and through.  He had established among his family and employees a workable paradigm for a happy lifestyle.

Although he clearly admired me and our efforts and dedication to higher principle, he considered our mission to be at best misguided and therefore ultimately insignificant in the greater scheme of things.  Our espoused cause added up to a waste of time and therefore was doomed to fail. 

As I lack the skills of debate I did not enter into an argument or try to defend my position.  I was in his territory, after all, a place where he presided.  Rather, I listened intently to his point of view in order to understand how it was that I could love and admire someone so deeply and still feel, and maybe even fear, that we could not resolve our differences and come into a place of unity. 

So what were the differences that appeared unresolvable between us?  I believe it was the idea of subjection: the principle that men take precedence over women in the hierarchy of things, and therefore are entitled to a “divine authority” over them.  Perhaps this is an oversimplification, but it has implications and ramifications that can lead to injustice in my view.

Clearly my discontent stems from personal experience in my family history where male dominance was asserted, and women (and children) were expected to comply with demands which did not seem to take their ideas and needs into consideration.  In a society where “all men are created equal,” some were definitely more “equal” than others, and women, long considered as “property” were discounted as decision-makers, and were expected to go along with those in authority -- even when they perceived that authority not to be in their best interests, nor in the best interests of the whole.  Insubordination to the dominant authority was met with forceful wrath, violence and abuse. 

This was clearly not the case in the example of my esteemed friend, for those in his community had freely subjected themselves to his authority and leadership.  But I could not help but wonder what would be the position of women who are unmarried and / or choose to remain so, or widowed, or seek a greater measure of independence or autonomy?  How are such women viewed by this strictly patriarchal system?  Their gifts may go largely undervalued and underutilized.  And what about the males who do not fit into the “alpha male” paradigm?  Would they be found unworthy?

In a theocracy these questions are resolved differently from a monarchy or a democracy or a republic or a dictatorship or even a tribal council.   The huge question that Viveka and I have been asking ourselves from the very beginning -- in our relationship as in every human endeavor -- “How are decisions made?”  Where does the power lie, and how is it wielded? 

There is a lot of confusion in the world today around this questions of equality, inclusion, and authority -- for there are many different models, different methods for coming into unity.  Since beginning this inquiry, I have seen that it begins within the individual, not between individuals.  Each individual has a whole council within him or her, all vying for a voice around the table of consciousness.  How does one rule this unruly tribe within, where very often ego has been allowed to rule.  Even as a woman, I have experienced both “masculine” and “feminine” aspects of myself, and am constantly aware of the need to balance these energies within myself in order to function effectively.  Personally, I have found it more satisfying to submit to a “higher power” than to a temporal authority, whether it be a parent, a boss, or a government official.  If my allegiance to that higher power is first established -- as in “Seek first the Kingdom of G-d and His righteousness, and all these things will be added unto you,” I can support the authority of others over me when I know that it is also motivated by the same allegiance.  On the other hand, when I do not sense that righteous authority is being properly asserted, I find myself in conflict, and must speak up.  Finding my voice and overcoming my conditioning as a female to remain silent has been one of the most challenging aspects of this walk.

To walk one’s talk, one must also talk one’s walk, and that is what I am learning.

*   *   *

I began this essay with the hidden assumption that men and women are and should be equal -- an assumption that has not been shared by human society at large.  At best it has recently received some lip service.  While I would agree that male and female are not the same, just as two sides of an equation are not the same, yet there is, in my view, a spiritual equality that links them together.  Two sides of the equation appear very different and yet they are the same in a very real sense.  As it says in the book of Genesis, “Let US create man in OUR image.  Male AND female created He them.”    This implies a plural agency at work -- a creative divinity that is BOTH masculine and feminine -- or as some have suggested, NEITHER masculine NOR feminine!  (my italics and capitalization)    

My powerful (and charming) friend did allow that women, although not “equal,”  were very possibly “more equal” than men.  He elaborated on this paradox by explaining that in his estimation women are worthy of the greatest respect and consideration in the marriage relationship.  He then described the process by which he and his wife made decisions:  they discussed the issues and alternatives and came to a point of agreement.  They worked together in their marriage at becoming unified and acting as one.

Several days later a word came to me that seemed to satisfy me in expressing how it is that equality does not have to imply sameness -- thus, the title of this piece “Equal Is Not the Same.  If we were to recognize and celebrate our uniqueness and individuality we could rightly call both men and women not merely equal, but UNIQUAL.

Thus are equality and uniqueness abiding together in a single concept.  I will sleep better knowing that my friend and I can possibly agree on a notion that leads to more powerful and more satisfying partnerships between men and women.   

"Virtual Walkers" Wanted

Lee’s Summit, Missouri

July 19, 2011

2:14 p.m.

“Virtual Walkers” Wanted

“Just as many hands make light work, many feet abbreviate the journey”

                                                                           -- Doris and Viveka Davis

We expected this:  summer heat and humidity making our walk more challenging in the midwest.  For the past two months traveling through Kansas and into western Missouri, temperatures have often been over 100 degrees.  Nevertheless, we have been holding true to our promise to walk a total of 11.1 miles a day 5 days a week.  For us this means that two people walking 5.5 miles are the same as one person walking 11.1 miles.  In this manner we have been accepting the help of friends who have walked with us.  

Most of these have walked beside us, enhancing the walking time with engaging conversation.  You might call them fellow travelers.  But some of these have been logging their miles on their own, in remote locations -- we call them “Virtual Walkers.”  They are letting us know that they are walking with purpose and intention in support of a specific cause or idea. 

We absolutely love it when people -- men AND women -- e-mail us at walkdoriswalk@gmail.com and let us know they are walking.  This is the way we are literally gathering WO-MEN-tum.  By the time we arrive in Washington, D.C. in September, we expect we will have many more in our ranks, both literal and virtual.

Here are a few of their names as best we can recall.

Zachary in Needles, AZ

Ivory in Yuma, AZ

Kaeylarae in Sedona, AZ

Geneva in Sedona, AZ

Celeste in Sedona, AZ

Marilyn in Sedona, AZ

Nancy in Sedona, AZ

Uqualla in Sedona, AZ

Ken in Sedona, AZ

Dan in Sedona, AZ

Sarb Nam (and other Sikh women) in Espanola, NM

Guru Kiren in Espanola, NM

Harimander in Espanola, NM

Rahmaneh in Santa Fe, NM

Cameron in Santa Fe, NM

Annie in Santa Fe, NM

Bashira in Santa Fe, NM

Sulis in Santa Fe, NM

Asharaya and Issael in Santa Fe, NM

“Mudman” in Abiquiu, NM

Leah in Santa Fe, NM

Carol in Santa Fe, NM

Edwin in Santa Fe, NM

Sulis at Lama Foundation, NM

Marty G in Kinsley, KS

Marty P in Kinsley, KS

Ruth in Platte Woods, MO

Tom in Platte Woods, MO

Patience in Platte Woods, MO

Mona in Lee’s Summit, MO

LouAnn in Lee’s Summit, MO

Gary in Kansas City, MO

and

Sandy in MEXICO!

If you want to become a “Virtual Walker” for Sole 2 Soul Walk it is easy AND simple.  Just e-mail me at doriswdavis@gmail.com and let us know how many miles you walked and what you are walking for.  It needn’t be the same as our purpose:  “Imagining a WORLD where women are equally valued decision-makers in partnership with men,” it just needs to be something you care about enough to walk your talk about.

We look forward to joining with you in bringing positive change into our lives and into our world.

Our Mother's Mission Part III: Connecting, Thanking, Praising, Trusting

Kansas City, Missouri

July 11, 2011

11:42 a.m.

Our Mother’s Mission Part III:

Connecting, Thanking, Praising, Trusting

“Deeper into the woods the path itself becomes illumined”

                                                                            --anonymous

Crossing the Missouri river, swollen with the threat of flooding, we drove from North Kansas City to the older section of town.  For a moment we caught a view of the skyline.  One roof in particular stood out.  It was the golden spire of a church ablaze in the setting sunlight.  

Half an hour later we were in the sitting room of a senior housing facility in the city, interviewing the 90-year old mother of a friend, let’s call her Sara.  We had realized we hadn’t talked in depth with many women older than myself -- I’m 72 -- and we wanted her perspective, for she remembers butting her head up against the so-called “glass ceiling” of limited career advancement in the 50s and 60s.  Being a self-described rebel (and a single widowed working mother) she knows that she played her part in the 70s to shatter the barrier, if only through her attitude of support for other women in their struggles and victories.  Needless to say, Sara was very supportive of Sole 2 Soul Walk, and but for her weak knees would probably be walking with us -- at least for a few symbolic blocks. 

Scouting for a quiet place for the interview, away from background noise of the residents’ conversation and television, we went into the patio and Viveka noticed that very church -- the one with the gleaming golden cupola -- was standing right next door!  What were the chances?  We hadn’t planned it in the least.  So when I had the opportunity, I asked Sara about the church.

“That’s the Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception,” she told us.  Clearly it had been there for a long time.  The original building, I later learned, dated from 1833, and had taken on its present shape and status as a cathedral in 1882.  It was built on the highest ground in the city, and for many years was the tallest building around.  in 1960 its copper cupola was replaced with 23 carat gold leaf which allows it to dramatize the skyline with the rich grace of gold.  Sara told us stories of growing up in this neighborhood, and the strange sensation of living in the spaces of her childhood, now so dramatically altered.

Now I am not a Roman Catholic, although one side of my family tree is rooted in that faith tradition.  Believe me, I would not be going on about a building were it not for Our Mother’s Mission, which I have been blogging about these past three weeks:  first in detailing the development of my relationship with my daughter on this trip; second in talking about Death as the Mother of Beauty, last week; and  third, this week, showcasing Mary, as the Western world’s chief exponent of the Divine Mother herself.  

Oh yes.  Mary is the subject of the Immaculate Conception to which the Kansas City Cathedral is dedicated.  Most people think that “the immaculate conception” refers to Jesus’ conception at the time of the Annunciation by Archangel Gabriel.  But no, the immaculate conception refers to the circumstances of Mary’s birth.  The Catholic church -- bless them eternally (and I mean it!) -- found a way to honor Mary especially, by giving her an exalted status.  Her very conception, they reasoned (and decided) must have been free from the stain of “original sin” a doctrine they had devised and named to explain why the world is so off purpose and out of joint due to Adam and Eve’s disobedience.  Mary was “full of grace,” because God in His eternal prescient wisdom had set her aside for a special mission at the time of her conception by St. Anne and St. Joachim.  Otherwise how could God have chosen her to be the Mother of His Only Begotten Son?

Why am I, a Protestant, an Interfaith Minister, a Freelance Mystic, and only an advanced beginner on the spiritual path, writing a blog about this marvelous piece of religious history and doctrine?  It is not because I am a fan of “original sin,” -- I would prefer another way of talking about "the separation" -- but I won’t belabor its role in Christianity here.  I only mention it because I want you all to know about “The Magnificat,” if you don’t already.  It refers to the powerful and prayerful words Mary is reported to have spoken to the Archangel when she accepted her Divine Assignment.  Her prayer is modeled after Hannah’s. (Hannah was the heretofore barren mother of Samuel) in the First Testament.  Most Christians of whatever persuasion have sung or have heard the prayer set to inspiring music. Here is the version I like the best, archaic language and all, although there are many:

My soul doth magnify the Lord : and my spirit hath rejoiced in God my Saviour.

For he hath regarded : the low estate of his handmaiden.

For behold, from henceforth : all generations shall call me blessed.

For he that is mighty hath magnified me : and holy is his Name.

And his mercy is on them that fear him : throughout all generations.

He hath shewed strength with his arm : he hath scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts.

He hath put down the mighty from their seat : and hath exalted the humble and meek.

He hath filled the hungry with good things : and the rich he hath sent empty away.

He remembering his mercy hath holpen his servant Israel : as he promised to our forefathers, Abraham and his seed for ever. 

As I let the words sink in one more time, I hear newly the Spirit of My Mother’s Mission, and it fortifies me on my chosen path.  

Hannah prayed for G-d to hear her, and give her a son.  He did, because of the effectual, fervent nature of her prayer.  But the child, Samuel, was to be dedicated to G-d’s work.  She made this deal, and kept her promise.  

And Mary, we are told in the book of Luke, (1:26-38) accepted her astonishing assignment (for nothing will be impossible with God) with these words:  “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.”  

To me, these words ARE "The Magnificat."  By connecting with and calling upon G-d -- which merely means talking to G-d simply and directly, by giving thanks, by praising the Divine Will behind Creation, and by letting go of our attachment to an outcome we might prefer, and trusting in an outcome that is beyond our understanding, we can be about Our Mother’s Mission on this planet. 

Our Mother's Mission Part II: Listening, Mourning, Healing, Birthing

Kansas City, Missouri

July 3, 2011

11:37 a.m.

Our Mother’s Mission Part II:  

Listening, Mourning, Healing, Birthing

Death is the mother of beauty; hence from her,

Alone, shall come fulfillment to our dreams

And our desires.  Although she strews the leaves

Of sure obliteration on our paths --

                         -- from Sunday Morning, 

                                     a poem by Wallace Stevens

A little more than halfway through our journey, in Kansas City, Missouri, I have been given a great gift: a week-long sanctuary in the home of a Sole 2 Soul Walk friend, Ruth Beedle.  With plenty of undisturbed solitude and quiet respite from the soggy heat outside, I sleep in an air-conditioned room, under a fluffy comforter like a pudding in a cloud, between clean, white sheets.  A pool is nearby for refreshing dips at leisure.  This physical comfort, combined with great conversation laden with insight and humor -- especially contrasted with the relatively rough and primitive life in the “tin can” (R V) for the past 3 1/2 months -- has made me seriously consider the possibility that I have made my transition to a higher plane.

I have had time to reflect on our enterprise up to this point and can summarize in one sentence what I feel identifies my underlying motivation for undertaking this journey:  “This walk is nothing more, nor less, than an attempt to discover, address and heal ancient wounds -- both personal and planetary -- still charged with fear and injustice.”

For all the world our stated purpose has been “To imagine a world where women are equally valued decision-makers in partnership with men, worldwide.”  We are planting the seeds of in idea, and the response has been varied, from “Right on!  You go, girls,” to “That will never happen,” to “Just what is your problem?  We gave you the vote.”  

But in this last week, with all this tranquility and safe silence, I have had a chance to look more deeply into my own personal motivation, and it is as though my female ancestors have been present to me, sharing their stories.

I don’t know a great deal about my female lineage, I was never close to any female relatives, including my mother, nor was I told many stories, but I have surmised that in my family there was no such thing as a “happy marriage,” with the possible exception of my father’s third.  Mother, grandmother and even great grandmother chose divorce over oppressive relationships.  One grandmother, a catholic for whom divorce was not an option, was “institutionalized” for her aberrant behavior, diagnosed as manic-depressive (and no wonder).  Here is a litany:

• My great grandmother’s second child was the result of marital rape.
• One grandmother contracted a venereal disease from her husband.
• Another grandmother took her “vacations” in an insane asylum.
• My mother and her siblings were beaten with a leather strap as children -- not considered cruel or unusual punishment, apparently.
• My mother had a nervous breakdown and shock treatments because -- like her own mother -- she rebelled against her loss of autonomy.
• I was sexually abused as a child by a family acquaintance.
• I was the victim of a date rape in college.  I did not press charges, for fear of ruining the young man’s life. (!)
• I divorced my husband only after an incident of child abuse caused my children to be taken to foster homes.

Almost none of these things were openly discussed in my family, so it now appears that these are the skeletons in my closet that need and want to be exposed and exorcised.  Still, I would be very surprised if my family was unique with regard to these kinds of events.  Given that these hurtful incidents all occurred in the past and there is nothing I can do to prevent the harm done, my question becomes, “To what extent are they affecting me in the present?” And further, “How can they be healed in my psyche and their frightful energy transformed into a positive force for good?”

• The first step would be acknowledgment:  “These things happened.”
• The second would be outrage at the injustice 
• The third would be sorrow for the pain and loss
• The fourth would be compassion for both victim and perpetrator -- finding the way to forgiveness for all
• The fifth would be noticing how the damage perpetuates itself in present time as generalized and universalized guilt, which results in low self esteem in all human beings
• The sixth would be cultivating and accepting a new self image founded upon true self worth and worthiness
• The seventh would be vigilance to ensure that new behavior patterns take root and flourish. 

Much easier said than done.  The method I have chosen to do this important work is through spiritual practice and deep meditation on my matrilineal line, back to my very first ancestral mother.  She was the Mother we all have in common.  Much has been made of our paternal ancestor:  Our Father, but in recent ages, much less attention has been paid to Her.  By getting in touch with Her and her sorrows and travails -- especially as I have known them through my own female ancestors -- I feel I have contacted the very source of the springs of sorrow.  I feel that all of these women are asking us to listen to them, to hear them to mourn with them, to heal them and be healed by them so that the great work of the Divine mother -- a new birth -- can take place out of death itself.

With everything that is going on in our world, reflected in the possible collapse of the global economy, the threat of nuclear proliferation, our failure to sustain an ecologically sound environment, the unethical greed of corporations, the wantonly unprincipled media, the failing educational system, and the hectic pace and “busyness” of our fractured lifestyle, I feel that now is the time for women -- especially women who have arrived at grandmother status -- to stand together as “doyens” -- a word I like better than “crones” for wise women, and with one voice say:  “Thus far, and no farther.  It doesn’t have to continue this way.  We may have chosen to be silent rather than to express our fear and anger in the past, but we can choose differently now.”

  

I call all women and the men who support them in this effort to rally behind this intention:

“Leaving all burdens of the past behind, we seize the opportunity of this now moment to practice the art of the possible.”

I am walking across the country holding all of my “co-madres” in my heart because I can; I do have all of these women and girls inside of me -- daughters, mothers, grand and great, who want to shine their light to brighten the future for all man-and-woman kind.  They want to tell us to sorrow no more; they are healed, and released, and are reborn in us!

Out of death comes life and beauty as the poet Wallace Stevens said in the quote at the beginning of this piece.  The German mystic Frederich Holderlin reminded us, “At the moment of greatest danger [and heartbreak]*, creation is born.” 

This is my “NOW MOMENT.”  Will it be yours?

______________________________________

* my insert

Our Mother's Mission Part I: Walking, Singing, Laughing, Weeping

Kansas City, Missouri

June 25, 2011

1:15 p.m.

Our Mother’s Mission Part I:  

Walking, Singing, Laughing, Weeping

“Every woman should spend a year in an R V with her mother.”

--Wynonna Judd 

Before my daughter Viveka and I set out on this Sole 2 Soul Walk across America on March 8, 2011, an astrologer whom we barely knew offered this comment about our relationship:  “You are like two ships in the same part of the same ocean.  That means you share a lot of important things in common.  But you are facing in different directions.”  This has proven to be a valuable observation which has helped us to understand and to diffuse the inevitable tension between us.  If this walk has been about anything, it has been about addressing and healing our mother-daughter relationship, which has been showing up as follows:

• First of all we are mother and daughter, which means we have personal, family history -- some would call it personal karma -- to work through.
• We are from different generations -- I’m in my 70s, she’s in her 40s, therefore as far as life cycles go:
• I’m “waning,” and tend to conserve my energy; she is “waxing” and has energy to burn
• I’m a Taurus, grounded, loyal and practical, she’s a (double) Leo, powerful, creative and dramatic
• I’m a quiet introvert; she is a talkative extrovert
• I’m a bookish writer; she is a flamboyant performer
• I’m academically inclined with advanced degrees; she has street smarts with no degrees, but professional credentials.  (Google Viveka Davis for her entry in Wikipedia)
• I’m deliberate; she is spontaneous
• I’ve raised a family; she has not
• I lead with the head; she leads with the heart
• I like things neat and tidy; she doesn’t mind “creative chaos.”
• For the artist in me, “less is more.”  All I need is a quiet space with a computer; the artist in her needs a spacious studio, equipped with  materials ‘n stuff.

When we started out on our journey in our 1984 Ford Econoline R V, “The Lindy,” I was (and still am) neatly confined to the back bedroom with 3 suitcases, which I keep stacked on my bed and 3 overhead cabinets for books, files, maps, CDs and personal supplies.  Except for our common areas for food, dishes, and kitchen and bathroom supplies, Viveka’s “stuff” completely filled the rest of the R V, including the aisles, seats and shower area.  

There was no room for Smitty, our driver, to keep his personal effects, so he lived out of his jeep, which we were towing.  After three weeks, Smitty left for home as planned and Viveka got the front “upper” bedroom, which she quickly lined with stuff.  

Then she began bringing in stuff she found along the road.  I hesitate to call these “art materials” trash but it’s all a matter of opinion:  rocks, pieces of tire tread from the road, rusted bottle caps, colored glass, a hub cap, a willow stick half the length of the R V, and literally anything that caught her fancy, like a dead bird with bright yellow feathers.  I would cringe when she passed by a thrift store for fear she would find more stuff to cram into the space.  This stuff was cheap, she reasoned.  Besides, she needed stuff for costumes.

“Costumes?  What costumes?” I wondered.  

In Yuma, a fellow woman craftsperson we met, who walked with us, saw the kindred spirit in Viveka, and gifted her with a 30-year-old sequin-covered soft-sculpted cloth mermaid about 4 feet long, hanging from a frame.  Viveka was delighted, for she immediately saw a way to incorporate this figurine into plans she had for a ceremonial costume and for scenes she plans to shoot as part of a film she wants to make -- a personal project on the side -- in addition to the documentary film she is making of our journey.  But I was appalled, for there was no place for this creature to live unless we gave her what was left of the shower space.

Now I know Viveka will read this, and I have not written this to insult or demean her in any way.  But I do have to be honest:  For the first couple of months, I felt cramped, let’s say “unfairly spatially marginalized.”  To her credit, however, she was aware that this was a problem for me and kept working on it.  Finally, probably somewhere in Arizona, I got access to half of the dining table!  When we arrived in Kinsley, Kansas -- the midpoint of our journey in both time and space -- she was able to downsize and consolidate enough for me to feel comfortable at last.  I finally had access to the front passenger seat!

It was at that point we both acknowledged that we had turned a corner, somehow, and this trip was beginning to feel like FUN!

*   *   *  

If, as the astrologer said, my daughter and I are simply like two ships moving in different directions on a common sea I can now happily report that what we have in common -- the ocean beneath us -- far outweighs our differences -- the waves around us, although during storms it is tempting to overlook the ocean for the waves.  

What we have discovered in the course of the last 3+ months is that although there is much that separates and divides us,  we are both on a mission from the Divine Mother, who daily reveals herself in both small and large ways.  We are on a joint mission, as mother and daughter, carrying the message of the inevitable return of the divine feminine -- in culture, community, consciousness and communication.  The fact that we have different ways of going about delivering that message, is much less important than it would have seemed in the beginning.  The fact that we are mother and daughter, and that we are using this opportunity to address and to heal all personal wounds on behalf of ourselves and our family is a large part of what we hope to accomplish.

If you would like to hear a very clear and compelling statement of this mission which we call “Sacred Activism,” please listen to Andrew Harvey’s Mother’s Day Address, 2011, “The Divine Feminine.”  It can be found at  http://beyondawakeningseries.com/blog/general/andrew-harvey/  

Just Two Dumb Broads Passing Through Kinsley, Kansas

Kinsley, Kansas

June 14, 2011

4:30 p.m.

Just Two Dumb Broads

Passing Through Kinsley, Kansas

O would some power the giftie gie us to see ourselves as others see us.

-- Robert Burns 

Do you ever fret over what other people may think of you?  

I have never considered this to be a major issue in my life, preferring to adopt the attitude “What you think of me is none of my business.”  On the other hand, self judgment and self criticism have always been much more daunting and severe than the opinions of others.  But recently, in Kinsley Kansas, a grain-producing town with a dwindling population of about 1450 older-than-average souls, located on the railway route that followed the Santa Fe Trail, I overheard a man refer to my daughter (and by association, to myself) as “that dumb broad.”  He had not intended for me to hear his remark, and so I had been gifted with a rare opportunity to hear this man’s raw, unfiltered opinion.

“Dumb broad.”  What did he mean by that, and how am I to respond?  Since I’ve never thought of myself as “dumb” I was surprised to see myself taking it very personally, and feeling very misunderstood.

All of this introspection has encouraged me to examine my thoughts much more carefully, and to take responsibility for ALL of them.  I realize that I am as guilty of narrow minded stereotyping as I feel this gentleman is.  And I must admit the world I have made for myself is a little out of joint here in Kansas.

Because I chose to confront him about his remark, I discovered that he had read the materials that we pass out to people we meet along the way.  He  had read the flyer describing the Sole 2 Soul Walk which states: “Imagine a WORLD where Women are Equally Valued Decision Makers in Partnership with Men.”  He had also read the Peace Proclamation which I co-authored as a member of the Culver City Area Interfaith Alliance.   It advocates the rejection of war and violence as “categorically unjustifiable and obsolete.”  This gentleman felt that our uncompromising stand for peace meant that we were being disrespectful to the brave men and women who have given their lives to preserve our precious freedoms.  

One does not have to travel far into Kansas, home state of President  Dwight D. Eisenhower, to understand that Kansans have made patriotism a priority, vigorously defending the Union during the Civil War, and the Nation in all of the foreign wars and conflicts since that time.  Evidently the assertion that “Peace is Patriotic,” is a notion that is difficult for many Kansans to embrace -- and many Americans for that matter.

Born in the midwest, I consider myself to be a loyal daughter of the Republic with immediate family members -- grandfather, stepfather, uncles, husband and daughter -- who have served honorably in every war, since 1898.  But I have come to believe that in our day and age, we have to find a better way to resolve conflict.  I am also hopeful that this can be done through what we have learned about non-violent resistance in the 20th century.  

Still, it grieves me to be so misunderstood.  I am a people-pleaser at heart, and do so desperately want to be liked and accepted by everyone!  So I spent several days fretting over my unfavorable image, and dismal failure to communicate.

A few days later we were still in town, and I was asked to speak to the Kinsley Rotary Club.  As a result of the “dumb broad” remark I came before them with an attitude that was both defensive and apologetic, fearing that although they may be polite to my face, they may secretly harbor private thoughts which might range from dismissive to hostile.  Do private thoughts count?  They do, if you believe as I do that “thoughts are things,” and have real world effects.

Afterwards I felt disappointed in myself for having done a poor job of communicating what our walk is about.  Except for a few, their faces were impassive, and I had a hard time relating to most of them.  Try as I would, I couldn’t find a wavelength that would serve a two-way communication between us. 

On the following morning, while we were on our daily walkabout, we passed a lovely home, newly built in early 20th century traditional midwestern style, with rocking chairs on the porch displaying red white and blue buntings between the pillars.  The lady of the house was out watering her yard and I asked her, “Why the patriotic display?”

“Flag Day,” she said.  Of course!  It was June 14, how could I have forgotten?  Then her husband appeared, who was one of the men who had been in my audience the night before, a pharmacist.  Craving some honest feedback I asked him, “What did you think about my talk?  Please be honest”

“Frankly,” he said.  “I couldn’t relate to your issue.  I don’t think women are disrespected or treated unfairly here.”  Then a light began to dawn in my head. “Maybe it’s because you are coming from a pioneer tradition and a farming culture where women are not only valued, they have always been downright indispensable.”  Both husband and wife agreed.  Finally, the communication felt complete.  I had been able to acknowledge a value that we all shared:  cooperation and mutual respect between men and women.

*   *   *

As far as being a dumb broad -- if “dumb” means silent, or lacking speech, and “broad” is slang for female, I must confess I have been a “silent female” for a good part of my life, for fear of being dismissed or devalued, on account of my unorthodox viewpoints, which may seem impractical and idealistic, or even “unscientific.”   In examining where that fear is coming from, I see that it is rooted in my childhood as I observed the way my father treated my mother (and me), and my grandfathers treated my grandmothers.  Outspokenness in women was not encouraged in the mid-western culture I was raised in. 

Is this what this whole walk is about?  An attempt to address an ancient wound, which was both frightening and unjust?  Perhaps it is just so.

So here I am, back in the Midwest, the heart of the heartland, halfway between the coasts.  These words ring true in my ears:  “Doris, you are not in Oz anymore!”

Taos, New Mexico: Looking Back On Enchantment

Dodge City, Kansas

June 7, 2011

11:37 a.m.

Taos, New Mexico:  Looking Back on Enchantment

We left New Mexico a week ago, but I cannot quite bring myself into the “midwest mindset” engendered by the hot, flat Kansas plains, without one last, wistful look backward at some memorable moments in New Mexico, which aptly calls itself “The Land of Enchantment.”  

The Pueblo of Taos lent itself to mystical moments and memorable encounters in bookstores, old and new adobe buildings, all in earth brown tones with soft contours.  We visited galleries, homes, churches and  intentional communities -- not to mention the sustainable “earth-a-tecture” building sites.  We attended spiritual services and were the object of a blessing rite offered by a radiant Peruvian brother in a Hindu ashram.   

The “Divine Feminine” -- both as a concept and as a presence, is everywhere evident (both in Taos and in Santa Fe) in the Virgin of Guadalupe.  We encountered a number of “heart-centered men” who were not ashamed to be labeled as such.  Our message about the importance of balancing masculine and feminine energies in the critical social and environmental decisions affecting all of humanity received a favorable reception.  In fact, among the people we met, it was a bit like preaching to the choir.

So much for the journal and travelogue.  Let it serve as context.  If you have been reading this blog you know that I am not confining myself to mere reportage, but am trying to add a dimension of personal revelation on top of that.  So what I really want to share with you is a specific moment of mystical enchantment that happened in Taos.

*   *   *

Deborah Marcum, a friend of a friend had graciously allowed us to park our RV on her property for a few days.  She lives in a charming adobe house, tastefully decorated by her own hands, on an acre of lawns and gardens bounded on two sides by flowing streams.  Her property is remarkable in that water is a rare and precious commodity throughout the Southwest. 

One morning I was sitting at the dining table in our RV, looking out upon a corner of Deborah’s garden when I noticed a couple of hummingbirds.  Now you have to understand that I have been a reverential fan of hummingbirds since my 20s when I began to notice that they always seemed to appear to me at special times, bringing a clear sense of joy, hope and well being.  I have adopted these remarkable creatures as my special “totem” animal, and am always on alert for them.  Since we began this walking pilgrimage or March 8, I had seen very few -- one in Joshua Tree, California, and another one in Santa Fe, New Mexico.  So you can imagine how excited I was to see two of them at that moment.   As I looked closer, however, I realized that the flowers these hummingbirds were visiting were wild roses growing beside Deborah’s stream.

Hummingbirds and Wild Roses?  So what’s your point?  But if you knew me at all you would know that the wild rose is another symbol deeply embedded in my psyche.  Briefly here is the origin of the attachment:

One day, more than 20 years ago when I was living in Montana I climbed a mountain on some sacred land.  While meditating in the sunshine at the top I noticed a small bush with a single rosebud on it -- a wild rose.  The only flower around at such a great height, I thought it was remarkable and it seemed to speak to me:  “Way up here on top of this mountain I have found a way to live and survive, and offer my flower.  Thank you for noticing -- that makes us friends forever.”  (It was truly “A Little Prince” moment, for -- if you recall that tale -- The Little Prince learns from the fox that the important things in life, like the precious rose he loves so deeply, are visible only to the heart.)

Now the wild rose is not showy or exotic, just five pink petals that bud and bloom and quickly fade; but because they are the predecessors of today’s cultivated modern roses they can be traced back to the period between the demise of the dinosaurs and the most recent Ice age, 70 million years ago.  This means that the wild rose predates the evolution of humans!  Every time I look at these modest flowers in their simplicity I sense I am seeing something remarkable, literally, as William Blake has written:

To see a world in a grain of sand,

And a heaven in a wild flower,

Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,

And eternity in an hour.

So when these two deeply personal symbols came together for me in time and space in front of my eyes for the first time in my life it was as though I was resonating through many octaves and layers of consciousness all at once.  At the risk of sounding corny and impossibly self indulgent I must say that it was like seeing into the heart of my own soul because of the many layers of meaning that came together.  It was a rare gift of the moment, and, I might add, thoroughly in keeping with our current knowledge of the more “feminine” or “intuitive” right brain mode of knowing.

If only I could give each reader of this blog a comparable gift!  I cannot do this, because a moment like the one I am describing must be personally meaningful to the individual on a level where his or her own personal mythology dwells -- a level deep enough to trigger the rare “music” of the soul.  Every artist longs to make such a connection happen, and endeavors to tap into the underground rivers of feeling that we all share in common as human beings, both male and female. 

What I find most remarkable in retrospect is that every morning we stayed on her property Deborah and I would have a heart to heart conversation over an excellent cup of coffee.  On the very morning this event occurred -- the last day of our stay -- she and I worked on a statement of intention in the form of an affirmation that we could each carry into the days ahead.  Here is what she came up with, and I simply could not improve upon it: 

“Today may you find what glows your soul and happys your heart.”

In my case it was hummingbirds and wild roses.  What is it for you?