When I think of curiosity, the first images that come to my mind are kittens and puppies poking their little button noses into absolutely everything, and my four-year-old grandson constantly asking “why?” For both the pups and kittens, and Roland, nothing is off limits to be sniffed, tasted or asked about. That’s how young beings explore their world. It’s all available in its newness. On the other hand, curiosity can carry a less-appealing connotation, as in the phrase, “idle curiosity.” It gets equated with nosiness. As a noun, it is sometimes used to mean something peculiar or odd, and one might stare closely at a peculiar bug just because it is strange. A more pernicious version of this is when someone stares at a person who appears “different” or acts differently from the cultural norm. When some of his followers asked the Buddha about what would happen after death, his response was something like “I haven’t addressed those questions because they aren’t conducive to enlightenment.” So much for their curiosity! Some contemporary Buddhist teachers, however, have approached curiosity differently. Christina Wolfe and Greg Serpa take Jon Kabat Zinn’s Seven Attitudes of Mindfulness (acceptance, nonjudging, nonstriving, letting go, patience, humor, trust, and beginner’s mind) and add to them curiosity, kindness, gratitude and generosity. Wolfe and Serpa write, “A popular meditation instruction invites us to check in with our own experience as if we were checking in with a good friend. When you meet a friend you haven’t seen in a while, you’re naturally full of curiosity about

Oftentimes, we tend to assume that wholeness is a good thing. It seems pretty intuitive that wholeness should be something we strive for, and that it’s better than whatever alternatives we might propose. Fragmentation? Brokenness? But wait—let’s ask a Buddhist what they can contribute to this discussion. The Four Noble Truths that are often used to summarize the Buddha’s teachings leave much unexplained, but nonetheless are a good starting point for our investigation. The First Noble Truth simply points out that suffering exists. Life is dukkha, suffering. Buddhists aren’t pessimists—far from it. But Buddhists are realists. If we are alive, sooner or later, we will come across the truth of suffering. The second truth identifies the cause of our suffering as tanha, or desire. The word, however, connotes a specific kind of desire, the desire for private fulfillment. It consists, as Huston Smith puts it so well, “not of all inclinations, but of those that pull against life and a whole.” Suffering occurs when we seek our own fulfillment without regard for the whole. Traditionally, Buddhists have identified three such desires: craving pleasure, material goods, and immortality, all of which by their very nature cannot be satisfied. Most UUs, I think, don’t fall into those three traps, at least not in their more blatant forms. We may, however, as do a lot of people, crave something we identify as “wholeness.” The third truth draws the logical conclusion from the first two: to end, or at least limit suffering, not only for ourselves but for

There are certain books and ideas I return to time and time again because they have proven to be reliable guides and trusted advisors in my own life. I also recommend them to others for the same reason. One of these is Joseph Campbell’s epic work on the heroic journey, Hero with a Thousand Faces. The journey is a “monomyth,” a myth that recurs throughout many times and in many cultures. Campbell unpacks the mythic narrative in seventeen detailed steps. In sum, though, we can understand the hero’s journey in three parts: departure, initiation, and return. The hero begins their journey in the world that is familiar to them, the world that they know. A call to adventure intervenes in this familiar world, beckoning them on to…what? The adventurer does not know at this point. Many narratives depict this in mythic terms. However, we can also understand it in more contemporary terms, relating it to the various personal journeys of our lives, both actual travel and inner journeys of self-discovery. We can apply it as well to congregational evolution. The center part of the heroic journey takes place in the unfamiliar world into which our adventurer has been thrust, either by choice or by circumstance. Various challenges await the hero here. Travelers through this strange landscape face challenges, some great and some small. They encounter helpers along the way. There is always what Campbell calls the “supreme ordeal.” This comes in a few standard forms, but “intrinsically, [it] is an expansion of

Some of you have probably heard me tell this story before. When I was in grad school, I needed a desk that was large enough to accommodate my way of working, which usually entailed spreading a lot of resources out on a surface, having a good spot for my shiny new electric typewriter (!), all the while leaving room for a coffee cup. A small desk just wouldn’t work. Enter the typical grad student problem—I didn’t have the money for the type of desk I needed and wanted. A weekend spent touring thrift shops in Nashville turned up a huge old desk, one with a large work surface and an array of good drawers for storage. It was oak, even, solid and not veneer. Some of the drawers creaked, but no real problem. The thoroughly dinged-up top of the desk was a larger problem. In an era when we still frequently wrote with paper and pen, the potholes in the desktop got in the way.  I solved the problem by having a sheet of heavy acrylic cut to fit the desktop, making a smooth surface for writing. Over the years, I slipped more and more quotes underneath the clear top of the desk. I still collect quotes, although now I store them electronically. Here are a few, with commentary, that are in my mind as the new year opens. “Beware of destination addiction, a preoccupation with the idea that happiness is the next place, the next job, and with the next partner. Until

I have trouble with Christmas. There. I’ve spoken what’s true for me, knowing that it’s not at all culturally fashionable to have trouble with Christmas. It’s a little like saying you don’t like puppies or chocolate, both of which, incidentally, I do like. But there it is. In the first place, I don’t have very good memories of childhood Christmases. Often, it was a more-than-usually tempestuous time in an already-stormy life. And with childhood innocence and naivete, I always thought this Christmas would be better. Until it wasn’t. Fast-forward to adulthood. The Jesus story simply isn’t my story in the same way it is for Christians. Just as Muhammad’s story isn’t my story in the same way it is for Muslims. And I can’t get into the cultural excesses of the season. It feels like the whole culture is having a party and I wasn’t invited. The profit-driven commercialization of it all saddens me. That stores have Christmas decorations and merchandise out before Halloween strikes me as ludicrous. In the face of all that, I’d figured out what worked for me—minimalism, focusing on Solstice, the interplay of darkness and light, growth resting, a few carefully-selected Christmas concerts, and the quiet of land blanketed by fresh snowfall. Spending Christmas with my daughter and her family. Then, I met and married Tom. My husband comes from a big family and a long tradition of over-the-top Christmas decorating and activity. As we blended our traditions, we have maintained that to a significant extent. To my minimalist eyes

Rev. Seth recently alluded to there being only 5% of sexual assault survivors’ memories later proven to be false. I want to highlight some of the scientific research into traumatic memory that supports this. The question of the reliability of survivors’ memories has come to national attention with high-profile cases. Many, perhaps most, survivors have faced similar questions, if not from others, then within our own minds. In response to a question, Dr. Christine Blasey Ford said she is 100% certain” that it was indeed Brett Kavanaugh who assaulted her. The context of the discussion was that some people acknowledged that she might have indeed been assaulted but she was mistaken about the identity of her attacker. This allegation escalated when two men came forward to say that it was really they, rather than Kavanaugh, who had been the perpetrators. My response to this part of the story is twofold: I can assure you from experience that the face of our attacker is burned into our brain cells. If we were able to see the attacker’s face, that face will not be forgotten. We just know. Second, it is an amazing confirmation of just how far the patriarchy and the “old boys” network will go to protect one of their own. Taking one for the team? Really? Senator Amy Klobuchar (D—Minnesota) pointed out that many people were putting the focus on what Dr. Ford could not remember about that horrifying night. The senator stated the she was more interested in what Dr. Ford

A 30-year-old man fell from a ladder while he was cleaning out the rain gutters on his two-story house. He tore several ligaments, was bruised up, and had x-ray results that were inconclusive. He was in a great deal of pain, having trouble walking, and later went to a hospital emergency department as a precaution. The emergency physician went over the x-rays with him and explained the evidence for various hypotheses about what his injuries were. Medical personnel assumed he had fallen because he was on a ladder and lost his footing. Period. There was no mention whatsoever of his age. He was hospitalized a couple of days as a precaution. His pain was reasonably well-controlled by medication, and he was given medication to help him sleep. Two days later, when the discharge planner was getting things in order so that he could be released from the hospital, they asked him for his ideas about what arrangements he needed for going home. He left the hospital with a referral to a physical therapist at his own discretion. There was no discussion of nursing home placement. An older woman fell while hurrying across a gravel parking lot. She tore several ligaments, was bruised up, and had x-ray results that were inconclusive. She was in a great deal of pain, having trouble walking, and later went to a hospital emergency department as a precaution. She was admitted for a couple of days “because she wouldn’t be able to care for herself.” Age was

We’re all-too-familiar with the Nike slogan, “Just do it!” Get out there and DO something. Reverend Seth’s sermon on August 19^th, “Controlled by the Clock,” touched off reflections for me that might well be summarized with the slogan “Just Don’t Do It!” In the interest of full disclosure, I function best when I have a fair amount of structure in my life, and this often leads me to make a to-do list. Then the list takes on a life of its own and can generate feelings of “I have to get these things done. And I don’t have time to get them all done!” On the other hand, I also cherish my unstructured time. Especially as I’ve matured, become more comfortable with myself, and learned better how to manage life with chronic pain, “down time” has taken on greater importance for me. I realize how fortunate I am. Not everyone has the privilege of having as much flexibility with their time as I do. We’re all at somewhat different stages in our lives. The days our grandchildren stay with us remind me that those with children have far less control over their time than I do. Caregivers may have to struggle to find even a few hours. Many people are financially unable to retire, or even semi-retire. Farmers, especially those who have livestock, can’t easily take a day off; cows and pigs must eat and be watered, and the barn be mucked out! Other factors are even more complex. Our culture equates busyness