Prayer and Fasting as a Form of "Tantrum Yoga"

Cliff View Resort

(near Rogers, KY)

August 28, 2011

4:26 p.m.

Prayer and Fasting as a Form of “Tantrum Yoga”

Don’t just DO something.  Stand there!

I must apologize for that last blog, “My Old Kentucky Home:  Where Push Came to Shove.”  I probably lost half of my readers by spilling my guts in that way about a family dispute.  On re-reading I felt embarrassed and quickly revised it.  It was unprofessional, unfocused, way too long, and just plain bad writing!  Mea culpa.

On the other hand, there is a bright side.  At least I have had the opportunity to discover that what I am upset about is exactly why I am on a cross-country walkabout “imagining a world where women are equally-valued decision makers in partnership with men.”  I had no idea how angry I was, because I had almost never -- in my whole life -- allowed myself the luxury of feeling anger focused at another person!    That is, until I went head to head with my daughter’s husband, Richard.

To have arrived at this advanced age and suddenly discover a roiling sea of anger seething inside of me?  Why it’s just plain shocking!   Let’s face it, I really have issues with men!  And Richard, is the one who is allowing me to experience that in spades.  I probably should be grateful to him for playing that role in my life.  I’m not quite there yet, but I am working on it.  

I suspect I am not alone, especially in that group of women over 50 who were taught to be quiet and submissive and not make waves.  My own mother was very mild and deferential to my father when she was younger, but as she got older, after two divorces, she became a curmudgeon.  I remember her hitting my husband -- her son-in-law -- with her purse in a parking lot, shouting, “You don’t deserve this family.”  It was tragi-comical at the time, but she had a point, and there was some justification.

I also saw my grandmother unleash a tirade at my father -- her son-in-law -- in our front yard.  She was almost hysterical.  My father looked down upon her pathos in a patronizing way.  Is it something about mothers-in-law?  Do they feel empowered to speak up in their later years when they may not have been able to while they were raising their families?  Is that what is happening to me?  Should this blog really be titled, “In Defense of Mothers-in-Law.”  Do we get to a point where we are “Mad as hell and just can’t take it anymore?”  The 17th century playwright William Congreve tapped the roots of women’s anger profoundly when he penned: 

Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, 

Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.

After I wrote and (too hastily) published the last blog, I decided to fast and pray and invite Spirit to guide me, because clearly I had lost all perspective and needed to declare a moratorium on all actions and decisions -- giving myself a chance to look at things from all sides.  For the past four days (except for a crumb of bread and a thimble of wine at a church service) I have had only water, and one cup of coffee each morning.  I’m not sure how long I will continue.  Jesus fasted 40 days in the wilderness to conquer the ancient foe, Satanas.  The Buddha sat under the Bodhi tree in meditation until he achieved enlightenment.  

During my fast I have talked and prayed with a number of people.  It has helped to find compassionate listeners who can use their insights to shed light and offer new perspectives.  Still I am full of sadness and grief, and I cannot shake the fear and embarrassment over the tyranny of simply having emotions that I cannot control.  Fasting allows me to have a tantrum in slow motion and observe what it is really all about.  

For example, last night I was inspired to write down just what I am upset about.  It is the feeling that I have compromised with boundary violators in very unhealthy ways.  Here is what I wrote:

“What part of ‘NO’ don’t you understand?  I will no longer be 

threatened, shamed, guilt-tripped, bullied, influenced, coaxed, baited-and-switched, lobbied, debated, manipulated, strong-armed, railroaded, cajoled, brainwashed, led, sold, won over, humored, backed into, co-opted, encouraged, bribed, ‘counseled,’ tempted, bought, tricked, bludgeoned, convinced, forced, deceived, browbeaten, badgered, hounded, harassed, pressured, seduced, propositioned, sweet-talked, tortured, debated, ‘jawboned’ or otherwise talked into

thinking, saying or doing anything that is not in my best interests.”  

Now some questions arise immediately:

• What are boundaries?  
• In God’s view are there such things? 
• Do I always know my best interests?  
• Am I a boundary violator without even knowing it?  Moi?

Boundary violators care more about their interests than the “owners” of the territories they are invading.  When it is “your” territory, they are often convinced you don’t know your own boundaries.  This is the perfect set up for a “trespass,” or a “grievance.”  

Then again, if life is all about growing spiritually, how can I learn except by making incorrect choices and then learning to choose once again?  

I don’t know the answers to any of these questions.  But I do know this: While fasting allowed me to slow down and deconstruct my emotional upset, putting a magnifying glass on it, so to speak, still, it is the prayer that makes the difference.  Prayer means that I have the intention to have a breakthrough, no matter what, and it acknowledges that I cannot do this by myself.

The key issue, at least from the wounded ego’s point of view, seems to be domination, and how to avoid it.  It is the fear of not being in control of one’s own life and resources, and frankly, feeling unsafe from predators.  In the present case, I have never felt such insecurity before.  As I am about to go into a meeting with Viveka and Richard to attempt to resolve some of our issues and move forward through our impasse I am just noticing, and observing. . . and wondering how it will all turn out. . .

A lot is riding on having a breakthrough in communication.  If we cannot, I am prepared to go on to D.C. alone, and frankly it saddens me to consider that.  In any case, may God help me -- and us -- to find a resolution that leads to spiritual growth.  

Peace is the goal -- though not at ANY price.  If I can have this victory over my self, the whole world will benefit.  Of this I am certain.

My Old Kentucky Home: Where Push Came to Shove

Cliff View Resort

(near Rogers, KY)

August 25, 2011

2:37 p.m.

My Old Kentucky Home:  Where Push Came to Shove 

(Revised Twice for condensation and greater accuracy 

at Viveka's request)

The young folks roll on the little cabin floor

All merry, and happy, and bright; . . .

Let us sing one song for my old Kentucky home

My old Kentucky home, good night.

                                                  --Stephen Foster lyrics

I was asked to officiate at my daughter’s wedding about seven years ago.  To me, all wedding ceremonies are memorable, but this one was especially unique on several counts.  

First of all, it was my first wedding after having been ordained, and it was in my own family -- my own dear daughter.   To have an in-law be the officiating minister meant that we were following in a family tradition, for I myself had been married by my venerable father-in-law, Rev. Haven N. Davis, some 43 years before at Fallen Leaf Lake near Lake Tahoe.  Rev. Davis was the founding minister of the Westwood California, Presbyterian church.  Viveka, who, incidentally has chosen to adopt “Haven” as her middle name, was marrying a man nearer to my age than her own.  For some time I had struggled to come to terms with this, her second marriage.  But it was clearly her choice to make, as an adult in her mid-thirties.

Secondly:  The wedding took place in Las Vegas in a sound stage, rather than a church or chapel.  The ceremony was part of a dual event -- both wedding a musical extravaganza replete with a host of professional musicians, singers and technicians.  And it was being filmed to showcase Viveka’s musical talents, as well as the talents of other performers.

Thirdly:  instead of a conventional center aisle and altar set-up, guests stood around a perimeter in front of a stage.  Entering the space, Viveka came dancing with her brother down a curved pathway to stand before me and the bridegroom in a small, roped-off “boxing ring” area.   Instead of the traditional “Wedding March” (“Here Comes the Bride), the music was a recording of  Viveka singing a song written by her years earlier, “When Push Comes to Shove.”  The song was  an aggressive but lighthearted warning that this marriage may be rocky (as in Rocky Balboa, my pun) but we are going to fight our way through it, and, as the refrain kept reminding us, “it’s gonna get ugly when push comes to shove.”  It looked to me that Viveka was putting her community of supportive wedding guests on notice that she had no illusions about the fact that marriage can be a battleground, but that she was willing to “duke it out” with her partner, if necessary -- in love.  Apparently this marriage would require a large dose of necessary toughness.

Viveka had seen in her parents’ marriage (mine) just how embattled marriage can be.  But I, in contrast with her, had not stood up to my partner.  I had received no training in this skill.  My mother and grandmother had had nervous breakdowns.  That was what their level of coping their skills and imaginations came up with.  It was effective, and in some ways even clever.  It removed them from the abuse, as they could literally seek asylum.  Other women in my family had simply quit their marriages, choosing to bear the awful stigma of divorce (in the first part of the 20th century) rather than the suffering of abuse.  I, like so many women of my W.A.S.P. culture and generation simply caved in to aggressive, hostile, hurtful and criminally unjust domestic partners in the interest of “keeping the peace,” and keeping the family together at all costs.  

I chose to tolerate the abuse, even though it was extreme, because it was “only” verbal, not physical or sexual, not fully realizing what a heavy burden I was forcing my children to bear.  After all, I had borne similar abuse as a child, and my mother before me much worse, because hers was physical.  I justified the abuse with this kind of reasoning:  “My children are really not suffering any more than I did, and much less than my mother did.  Isn’t that just the way it is in families?  Aren’t all families this way?”  

One of the main reasons for my purchase of the “Wilde Rose Guest House” cabin in Kentucky last year was to provide a sanctuary for individual and family healing and transformation -- especially for our own family, and possibly for others‘ in a beautiful retreat setting.  During his recent trip to Kentucky for Viveka’s birthday, my son and I had some long talks into the wee hours about our family dysfunctions, and especially the part I had played in that, through my inaction.  As a conscientious young father, struggling with his own childhood traumas, he pointed out to me in no uncertain terms how wrong this was.  But in all truth, I simply was ill-equipped to know what course to pursue other than divorce, which I had vowed not to do, because I had solemnly promised, before God and witnesses “to love, honor and cherish, in sickness and in health, until death do us part.”  I remember, during my wedding ceremony, how one part of the vow stuck in my throat.  In trying to repeat “in sickness as in health,” I broke out in tears, as though I knew this would be the toughest part of the vow to honor.  Just so, it turned out to be prophetic.  

My tears and hesitation were delaying the ceremony, so Rev. Haven told me with compassion, “That’s O.K., you don’t have to say it.”  But I insisted on actually pronouncing the entire vow, choked by my sobs.  

Alcoholism is a sickness, although at 23 I was scarcely aware of such things.  Without even suspecting that my wonderful, brilliant, handsome young husband could be sick, I failed to recognize that, in time, my husband would need mental and medical help on so many levels that I could not give him.  As he failed to support the family, despite his many talents and gifts, I eventually moved into the position of breadwinner.   I also needed more help and support than I was able to realize or ask for.  My failing was the arrogance of trying to bear this burden on my own, thinking that through the sheer depth and power of my love -- and with God’s help -- I could provide the help he needed.  Also, and perhaps more importantly, I was afraid to bear the feeling of shame around my failure.  Nowadays we call it denial.  In those days, people just said or thought things like, “Poor Doris, saddled with those four kids and that maniac,” or more kindly, “Love is blind.”  

*   *   *

Why am I telling all of this?  Unfortunately the impasse I have reached with Viveka’s husband is severe, and I see it as relevant.  After 10 years of knowing each other I regret to say that we have made very little progress in our relationship.  Mutual grievances pointed in opposite directions are piled on top of each other, like ammunition.  It pains me deeply, but I also know that it pains me for reasons that are very germane to this walk.  Richard represents to me that kind of “Alpha” male energy that I find ultra-offensive because it pushes all of my buttons, harking back to my own grandfathers and father and husband.  I also recognize that Richard is not the enemy.  He simply represents (in my mind) an archetype of the unjust (tyrannical) male authority figure.  Truth be told, I probably push all of his overbearing (wayward) feminine archetype buttons as well.  To him I probably appear like the mother-in-law from hell.

My time spent with him here, recently, has shown me that I need to make a distinction between what Richard represents to me (because of my past experiences) and who Richard IS.  I must learn to practice new patterns of behavior with respect to this archetype, separating Richard, the human brother walking down the path of life beside me, bearing his own burdens, soldiering on towards his own goals and objectives.  The role I have assigned to him may merely add to his burdens.  I want to do all in my power to release him of those extra burdens by assessing the situation with greater accuracy.  If I cannot do this, the Sole 2 Soul Walk and its purpose and mission are doomed to failure.  

It’s like this:  if I cannot, as a PeaceWalker succeed in bringing inner peace to myself no matter what the circumstances and no matter what the appearances, I will have failed a most important test.  But there is no doubt in my mind that I aim to pass it this time, with G-d’s help.

   

I would devoutly like to see divine healing accomplished in my family, but I must start with myself first.  I cannot take responsibility for another but I CAN take responsibility for how I see that other, and how I choose to speak with and relate to that other.  And, while not disrespecting another, I can remember to respect myself as well

I have known this all along, but have acted as though I didn't really believe it.  Self respect and self confidence are two large issues with me, and areas where I am learning to walk my talk.  I will not stop until inner peace is a complete and permanent reality in my experience.

In the past I have always opted for appeasement and compromise when faced with domineering and bullying tactics.  I don’t know how to establish boundaries.  So I see the same pattern bearing itself out in my relationship with Richard.  My response has been either roll over and play dead (escape emotionally) or “Throw the dog a bone” (appease).  At this point, however, I see that these are no longer a viable options for me.  In practical and personal terms, it comes down to this:  without feeling that I am an equally-valued decision maker, I cannot be in a partnership with anyone.  Our family partnership vis a vis the Kentucky property which we own (our lots are next door to each other) involves a family business, construction projects, family money, and real estate values.  Richard and I have not found ways (yet) to communicate due to long-standing issues from the past involving repeated breaches of trust and good faith -- perceived on both sides.  

So, in short, “push has come to shove” in my relationship with Viveka and Richard, and I am poised and prepared to leave here in a few days, without her, if necessary, to continue and to complete this pilgrimage.  God willing, I aim to arrive in less than a month in Washington, D.C. and sit in meditation in the capstone of the Washington Monument, and to ask the Divine One to allow me a vision of this nation and its destiny and my part in it as a woman, as a mother, as a grandmother, and as a minister and Sacred Activist.  That is the end that I have in mind.  That is the passion that I am walking for. 

Viveka need not be part of that unless she chooses to do so.  Richard and I could be at a standoff for a very long time, but I am clear that I will not make the mistake of having my boundaries violated without clear and effective signals of my protest, and appropriate action taken to ensure fairness to myself as well as those whom I love.

But I can say this without judgment or prejudice to anyone, or without making anyone wrong:  our stated mission on this walk, “To imagine a world where women are equally valued decision-makers in partnership with men worldwide” is at the very core of this radical departure of mine.  I am frightened to take this position, for there is a lot a stake for me, but I need to break old patterns that no longer serve me.

It remains to be seen how Viveka, who is caught between her husband and her mother, will respond to my very clear intention to continue this walk alone, if necessary.

Serpent Mound, Ohio: More Than We Bargained For

Peebles, OH

August 15, 2011

11:26 a.m.

Serpent Mound, Ohio:  More Than We Bargained For

“What is Truth?” said jesting Pilate, and would not wait 

for an answer.                        --Sir Francis Bacon

Getting to Serpent Mound, Ohio, had some tension wrapped around it because Viveka and I were having our perennial standoff.  It goes like this: I keep wanting to pack up and move on and get on down the road, and she likes to arrive somewhere and start spreading out her art supplies, creating art, meeting and talking to people (at length) and taking stills and shooting footage for the documentary we are making about this adventure.  As a result of her leisurely style, my intention to arrive at Serpent Mound in the afternoon of the full moon, August 13 was frustrated, and we arrived well after 8:00 p.m.  We missed the sunset and the moon had not yet risen so I felt a bit angry and shut down, as though I had missed out -- and it was all her fault! (ha ha)  However, if I have learned anything on this trip it is that Divine Order is always operating.  We are always exactly at the right place and in the right time.  So what was really going on was that I clearly needed to examine some parts of my shadow. . . for I had given them the power to rob me of my tranquility. 

The gates to the complex, which are closed at dusk, were poised to shut.  As we drove into the parking lot there was a man standing by his car.  Viveka noticed that he had a leather medicine pouch around his neck.  

"There's our guy," she said.  She was right, it was as though he had been sent from central casting to be waiting for us.  His name was Chuck, and he had the assignment to close the gates that evening.  He had a scruffy white beard covering a face deeply lined with character and experience -- with Cherokee heritage, it turned out.  Chuck is a healer from Colorado, who is spending a lot of time at the mound this summer.  (See http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Serpent_Mound)   

"We're so glad you're here!”  we admitted, relieved.  “We came a long way to get here on the full moon."  When we explained that we have been "Walking America" since last March with this place as a key destination, Chuck was impressed in his low-key way.  Clearly he was there for the full moon as well.  

About that time we began to be aware of lightening and thunder with rain threatening.  "You don't want to be here in a lightening storm," Chuck assured us.    The place has a lot of anomalies, and one is that lightening is attracted here.  Another one is that compasses are off about 8 degrees.  He showed us around the mound briefly, which is a quarter of a mile long in the shape of a snake with spiral tail and open mouth about to devour a mysterious oval object, which could represent an egg, or the sun -- nobody knows.  Oddly, there was a snakeskin in the coil of the Serpent's tail.  Chuck thought it might have been placed there by human hands, for there was another one in the "heart" area of the effigy.  Another mystery.  Chuck wanted to know if we were interested in “spirits.”  I didn’t know how to answer, for I am interested in “Spirit,” but am not particularly interested in “ghosts,” if that is what he meant.

We knew we would come back the next day to learn more, so all we needed was a bit of orientation.  He also told us about a gathering in a home in the hills nearby.  Still feeling the residue of my anger over being "late," I was "tired" and didn't feel like a party, but Viveka went and it turned out to be a local group featuring a fiddler, percussion, and didgeridoo that meets every Saturday night for home grown music and a potluck.  She fit right in, and was able to make them all laugh with some of her stories.  "You're welcome back anytime," they told her when the party was over.

Meanwhile, back at the RV, after a meal of buttered sweet corn I had a distinctly strange experience which I cannot explain.  As I was lying down to sleep I felt my "astral" body float upward about 6 inches and re-orient about 20 degrees clockwise.  This happened twice before I fell asleep, and I have never felt anything like this in my life.  I hope someday to learn what that was all about!  (On reflection, it does occur to me that the earth's axis is tilted about 23 degrees . . .)

The following morning we met a man named Bob Wallace in a convenience store where we had stopped to get ice.  I asked him about the Mound and he said his family had owned the property where it was found.  In fact, his grandfather had been born on it!  That led to a longer conversation about other Native American sites, and his experiences growing up in the area, and combing the land for artifacts.  Unlike many other locals, he had a keen interest in the site and other Native American archeological locations in Ohio and the greater Mississippi valley.  All the time I was talking to him he kept looking around a bit furtively and speaking somewhat “confidentially” as though he might be overheard, or discovered talking too much.  It was a bit strange, but later I discovered he was a mortician, and a guy who knew a lot about ghosts and spirits!  He was on his way to prepare the body of a friend for burial.  A man who had been the venerable historian of the area.  On the following day I saw a very long funeral procession involving a couple hundred cars -- a lot for this sparsely populated rural area -- and wondered if it might be in honor of that man.”  

He told us we should meet a man named Tom Johnson who, it turned out, was a world class paleontologist with a simple hole in the wall "rock shop" by the side of the road.  After a few minutes in conversation I asked Tom, “What is your passion? I often ask this question to deepen a conversation, for I don’t always have a lot of time to speak with people as we pass through.  I explain to them that I would really like to know what THEY would be willing to walk across the country for -- if they believed it would make a difference in a big or even a small way.   His answer took a few minutes to develop, but is one of the most powerful ones I have heard: “With patience and persistence,” he began, “and taking Free Will into account, I want to pass forward and make understandable -- especially to young people -- the science of the Universe.”  He seemed grateful for my asking, and happy that I had helped him to articulate it.

Clearly, Tom is a teacher, and all kinds of people "magically" find their way to him -- like us.  The day before some Native Americans had made a film about him.  A short time ago he appeared on Ancient Aliens TV program.  His exhibits have appeared in the Smithsonian.  (See:  http://www.aradias-garden.com/house-of-phacops.html ) It was from him that we learned about the crop circles that had appeared in the field near the Mound several years ago.  He gave me a colored picture of the crop circle which was oriented in such a way that its key feature pointed directly to the head of the Serpent.  The same crop circle appeared the following year in the same field, only this time as the reverse or negative of the design.  Tom had actually walked in it just after it was formed.  These were made in a field of soybeans, but he said he had walked in crop circles in corn fields and had felt such heat that the kernels in the ears had swelled as though about to pop.  

I spent some time in the field, trying to trace the design I could see from the photo, which appeared to be more in the shape of an oval than a circle.  Tom had told me that the crop circles are likely to appear in fields where there is water underneath.  According to him, the water definitely has something to do with the energy responsible for the the formation of the designs. 

This morning we got up before sunrise.  Viv spent a very early hour in the crop circle field across from where we were parked, and a bit later we walked up to the Mound one last time to watch the sun rise.  Viv found a beautiful snakeskin left in the road on her way up, which she will incorporate into her art somehow.

I am fascinated with the crop circle phenomenon and look forward to doing more research on the latest insights into the interpretations of what they might mean. . .  

*   *   *

With this Serpent Mound adventure we officially end the third of four legs of our journey as planned and on schedule.  Now we have an hiatus for a fortnight to go to our property in KY and celebrate Viv's birthday on August 19.  Some family will join us, and a few others we have met along the way.  In addition, one of the original Sole 2 Soul planning group, Sandi Thompson is flying in from Mexico to complete the last leg with us.  

Viveka's husband Richard, who has been holding down the fort at our family cabin at Cliff View Resort near Natural Bridge, Kentucky, told me in the very beginning, "Doris, if you get this far, I will walk the rest of the way to Washington D.C. with you!"  Clearly, he didn’t expect we would make it to Kentucky!  It remains to be seen if he will remember -- and honor -- his word.

A Twinkle of Mirth is Needed on Earth

Vandalia, IL

August 8, 2011

7:12 p.m.

A Twinkle of Mirth is Needed on Earth

In my belief you cannot deal with the most serious things in the world unless 

you also understand the most amusing.”            --Winston Churchill

The Odd Couple

If you have been following this blog I want you to understand one thing about this American Cross-Country Mother-Daughter Walkabout:  whatever our mission and intention purports to be, it is still and always a seventy-something mother and her forty-something daughter traveling together in an RV for 6 1/2 months!  

My daughter Viveka played country music superstar Wynonna Judd, in the 1996 mini-series “Love Can Build A Bridge.”  Wynonna said, “Every woman should spend a year in an RV with her mother.”  I believe I now know what she meant.  It is a situation in which the relationship is tested at every turn, especially if the two individuals are so different in temperament and style as to form an “odd couple” polarity -- as Viveka and I do with her playing “Oscar” (the freestyling “messy” one) to my (prim and proper “controlling”) “Felix.”

   

The Sufi poet Kabir wrote (and I’m paraphrasing from memory)

“God and I are like two old fat men in a small boat, 

bumping up against each other and laughing.”

After Viveka and I heard this delightful poem we began to use the insight as a life-saving method for diffusing tension.  We began channeling the personas of the two old hecklers in the balcony from “The Muppet Show.”  For some unknown reason we took on Italian accents.  Immediately all the tense situations we found ourselves in stemming from our respective “odd couple” natures -- disputes over little things, territorial squabbles, power struggles -- were transformed into scenes of hilarity in the style of comedia del arte, ending with a fluorish: “What’s a matta’ you?  Boomba, Boomba!  

In this way we are healing the mother-daughter relationship by using humor to soften the shocks and blows of the inevitable role reversals that happen when children become adults and find themselves more in charge, and parents start slowing down letting go of memory, vision, hearing, and their interest in coping with technology and the pace of modern life. 

I can’t tell you exactly where this transformation to a kind of humorous detachment took place, probably somewhere between New Mexico and Kansas, but ever since we learned to resort to humor to diffuse tension I have found myself having a lot more “fun” than I ever imagined I would, given the serious nature of our enterprise. 

*   *   *

R.O.M.E.O.s

When I first began to train for this walk last January, I would stop after a few hours of walking at a MacDonald’s restaurant in my home town, Culver City, California.   Every time I stopped I noticed a group of 6-8 men having breakfast.  They were the regulars -- most of them retired.  Even though it was clearly a “men’s club,” I couldn’t resist the opportunity try out my mission statement on them:  “Imagining a world where women are equally-valued decision-makers in partnership with men worldwide.”  When I explained that it was my intention to walk across America with my daughter carrying that message, one of them quipped, “What do you women want?  We gave you the vote!”  

Since then, in countless MacDonald’s restaurants I have seen similar “men’s clubs” gathering between the hours of 6 and 9 a.m.  I presume they gather in local diners as well as fast food places all over America.  They are a tough crowd to play to, for they don’t know what to make of a woman like me -- although I have come to appreciate them and what they stand for.  Because of their age and experience, they really do have all the answers, and, as I learned in Sedona, they are quite frustrated that no one seems to want to listen to them any more.  

One man I met in Amboy, California, himself a member of this floating group that can gather almost anywhere like a pick-up basketball game, told me that he knew of one group in Florida that called themselves the Romeo Club.  He spelled out the letters, R.O.M.E.O.  

“What does that stand for?” I asked.  

“Really Old Men Eating Out,” he answered.

One morning, eating breakfast at the Corner Cafe in Gallatin, Missouri, we learned our breakfast had been paid for by one gentleman in a group who saw the sign on my backpack which says “Sole 2 Soul Walk -- Walking Across America.”  When I shared the observation that without knowing it they all belonged to a men’s breakfast group numbering in the millions nationwide, one jested, “We just like to get away from our wives.”   Then I told them about the R.O.M.E.O.s and another one said, “I like that name better than ours.”

“What’s yours?” I asked.

“‘The Rusty Zippers.’”

*  *   *

Movie Trailer Concepts (written with Viveka)

As Viveka is making a documentary film about our cross-country adventure with the working title “Gathering WOmentum,” we are constantly receiving inspiration around how to market our film to the international festival circuit.  Here are some possibilities. . .

(Imagine the following being delivered in that rich baritone “movie guy” voice:)

You’ve always heard, “Go West, Young Man.”  

Now it’s time for. . .“Go East, Old Woman.”

or

In a world where women must. . . 

step up, 

step out, 

and step beyond. . .

Can she birth a movement 

Without stepping in it?

or

You’ve heard of Sky Walker

You’ve heard of Planet Walker

Now watch Doris walk

IN-CONTINENT WALKER

Will her mission hold water 

Even when she can’t?

Humanity’s future DEPENDS upon it.

------------------

Do you think AARP might want to fund this movie?

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.