Midlife Meditation

Methodist support for North Carolina's 2012 ballot measure banning recognition of all forms of marriage--including domestic partnerships--other than one man and one woman. There are times I wish I could reverse my baptism. Yesterday I was out running errands in the Tanasbourne district. I was stopped at the traffic signal at Evergreen and 185th when two sign-wavers caught my eye. One was promoting the opening of a new restaurant. The other was promoting Jesus. I couldn't get a good look at the sign--I think it was something about him dying for sinners, evangelical boilerplate--though I did glimpse the words "Grace Bible Church" on the bottom of the sign. Turning onto 185th, I saw two more sign-wavers on the opposite corner. I couldn't make out what one of the signs said, but the other was clearly visible, and worded so effectively I was able to hold the entire text in my memory until I came to a stop light where I could enter it as a note in my phone: ...

"It's mine anyway. Why can't you give it to me now?" Simeon gazed out the window at the hayfield. It was high summer, and the hay had just been mown, lying in messy but straight rows all the way to the fence and the woods beyond. From a distance Simeon heard Abel's voice shouting out instructions to one of the field hands. Abel must be wearing a fine sheen of perspiration, bits of hay clinging to him, his shoulders bronzed by weeks spent in the fields, laboring side by side with all the hired men, refusing to assign them any task he would not share. Seeing the patterns in the hay, hearing his older son's voice, Simeon clutched the windowsill. He must not see me cry, he told himself, and somehow managed to postpone the sorrow brewing behind his eyes. "What's the hurry? You just turned eighteen. You've got your whole life to enjoy your part of the estate. Stay with us a little longer, help your brother bring in the harvest. Then if you still w...

  To forgive others is to be kind to ourselves--Dharma Master Cheng Yen I'm not big on bumper stickers, but then again, this wasn't actually on the bumper of the minivan I saw this morning during my run. It was painted on the tailgate, along with a string of Chinese characters I assume stated the same aphorism in Mandarin. At any rate, this little motto stuck in my head more stridently than anything I've seen on a car in many years. The author of the proverb is a Buddhist nun who, since 1966, has headed up Tzu Chi, a Taiwan-based relief society with global outreach, including hurrican and tornado relief in the United States. I found this out with a Google search this afternoon when I finally had a chance to seek out the source of these words. Tzu Chi sounds like a worthy cause, and Cheng Yen (sometimes called the Asian Mother Teresa) seems a wonderful saintly woman; but all of that is a sidebar, a diversion from a teaching that cut me to the quick. You see, I h...