This morning, I and three other Green Acres neighbors crossed nearby 3rd Street to help one of the Christian churches recalibrate its labyrinth from Medieval to “Modified Classic.” Here’s the Classic design, originally from Crete.
One neighbor, Devon, looking at the design on paper, exclaimed, “It looks like a brain!” The church woman in charge of the operation responded, “Yes, many people say that. I think it looks like a womb. . . and I like the connection.”
This exchange, between a young man and an older woman as we were busily planting flags at designated intersections for the new path.
I sidled up to Devon. “Hey Devon, are you on our Green Acres email list?” He allowed as he was. I then proceeded to badger him, “PLEASE join us at our next monthly potluck, in the GANG garden, tomorrow evening, 6 p.m.!”
“I haven’t come to any of them yet, have I,” he responded, I think ruefully.
Ah, another opening! I dug in: “No, you haven’t. Please come! It’s not just old farts like me, it’s young men like you, and we’re even beginning to attract IU students who live in the neighborhood.”
It was then that Devon told me he was due to participate in another potluck, with the folks who supervise the local “low barrier” homeless shelter program that is passed around among the churches seven months of the year. Aaah, so that’s who he is! I backed off, impressed with this young man who would not only help rebuild a labyrinth at a church not his own (“I probably walked the old one six times on the Solstices and Equinoxes” he told me), but who also participates in the Interfaith Homeless Shelter program.
But then, an hour later, when I had to leave, he looked up with a wide grin. “See you tomorrow evening?” “Ah yes,” I caroled, just stop by at 7 p.m. when your other potluck is over!”
I had to leave because I had a hair appointment at my house. A woman who used to live in Green Acres, and whom I have always admired, because she rears her six children (!) with such effortless love, grace and awareness, was due to come to my house at 10 A.M., right after her kids’ baseball practice. I told neighbor Georgia about it, said that’s why I couldn’t stay longer to help set up the labyrinth. Immediately, Georgia wondered if Timi could cut her hair, too! So, next time I get my hair cut at home, I will invite Georgia to join me, and Timi gets us both at once.
Today Timi brought three of her kids with her. As usual, they were immensely respectful of the place, and spent quite a while looking for frogs and fish in the GANG pond before coming inside.
This is what “being neighborly” is all about, this rich mix of relationships, with both churches in the area and people who used to live here. All of us in a thickly woven texture of personal connections, right here, right now, together.
This is probably my final post on the week-long Grand Cross of April 2014. Barring nuclear “war,” (for how could MAD — Mutually Assured Destruction to a blackened, ruined planet be considered “war” ?) which of course could “break out” at any moment, given the intense idiocy of still huffin’ and puffin’ failed American hegemonious plans in Ukraine — see this, this, this, and this — I feel immensely grateful that what could have been an explosive out of control runaway fiery conflagration (in either Ukraine or Nevada) during this epic week has instead shown up mostly as tiny, invisible, localized implosions inside each of us, as we discovered new pockets of yucky stuff within that rushed to the surface to be cleared, NOW.
And I feel immensely grateful for the conscious ones among us, growing in number, who helped to hold the space of the watery Grand Trine which enclosed the intensely volatile Grand Cross in check, smoothed its edges, through conscious awareness and meditation. Through a knowing that we are the ones we’ve been waiting for, and that the shift is here, NOW, among us, within us, between us, filling all the interstices, this new frequency field of infinite possibilities that we are learning how to stabilize to the point where Above and Below do, more and more, blend in beautiful ways.
I write this as song birds call out to each other, spring breezes caress me through the open window, and the seedlings soon to be transfered to the GANG garden, just watered, are soaking up the sun —
Two jays are sitting on eggs in a nest they’ve built for the second year in a row — a veeery precarious spot! Notice the office printer paper trailing off like a ribbon . . .
Rebecca tells me they’ve stuffed some chicken wire in there as well.
Oh yeah, and BTW: the surprising calm may not be as benign as we think, at least according to Zen Gardner:
I prefer to think not. Or, if it is, then we will catch whatever plot they’re trying to hatch before they can launch it. We’re getting damn good at sniffing out various nefarious “false flags,” don’tcha think? We should be proud of ourselves; and let’s remember, whatever we focus on, whatever we attend to, precipitates from wave into particle, i.e., materializes. So I say, choose harmony, choose peace, choose to ride this glorious spring’s swelling tide of creation into a transformed future that will work for all of us, no matter who we are, no matter our station or race or religion or gender or even if we’re in 3D bodies! All of us, all spirits included, even the weird ones. No fear. No separation. Only this vast being, this overflowing LOVE.