The Metro that Never Was.

In 2001, when Irvin and I drove from Dubuque, Iowa to Tacoma, Washington in three days, our families warmly welcomed us and put us up until we found a place to live.

Early morning, in Charlie and Peggy guest room in Tacoma, the familiar vibration audible in some old Parisian buildings woke me up. This vibration comes from the subway – the underground train we call “Metro” that runs every few minutes. It took me an instant to realize that I was a bit far from Paris to hear those trains. I mentioned my experience to Charlie, Irvin’s uncle, and he smiled. “That was an earthquake, he said. I felt it too.”

The «underground-Metro-in-Tacoma effect» provides from the Juan de Fuca Plate plunging beaneath the North American Plate. Obviously, this sometimes produces a more noticeable effect than a discreet tremor.
But this morning, at 25 miles south of Tacoma, it was again hardly discernable in our neighborhood. 4.2 on Richter scale and no damages. One more time, Charlie is the one that informed us. We did not feel anything in Puyallup.

CPE : becoming «Zen» and a chaplain in training.

Instead of pushing that pain away, just let it be. You are not the pain. That pain is something that doesn’t have to be who you are. Just let your breath take that pain away from you. Beautiful

An American Buddhist monk is speaking to Audrey, who has multiple diseases of the spinal cord and is in constant pain. If I was Audrey, I am not sure how I would feel about someone teaching me to «let the pain be». Unless I acknowledged a special authority from this man in his black kimono who belongs to Zen Buddhism and allow him to teach my mind some discipline?

This episode of Religions& Ethics Newsweekly titled “Zen hospital chaplains”[1]
caught my eye probably because I am finally filling the forms for CPE (Clinical Pastoral Education) in other words the internship in a hospital as a chaplain. This should take place next winter or spring depending on availability. It lasts three months if you do it full time.

Those forms ask you a little bit more than your address and your email address. They require you write down “a reasonably full account of your life” where you should include the important persons and events especially as they have impacted or continue to impact your personal growth and development.

And also «a description of your spiritual growth and development» describing your faith heritage and any subsequent personal conversion and religious experience.

And a description of your work history with a statement about your current employment and work relationships.

And also the account of a «helping incident» in which you were the person who provided the help. You should include your assessment of the issues at hand, and a commentary on what you did and how you believe you were able to help.

So I am in the process of composing a “reasonably full” account of my life on those various aspects – with a “Zen” and focused mind of course. This is so me.


[1] http://www.pbs.org/wnet/religionandethics/episodes/november-12-2010/zen-hospital-chaplains/7471/

The Dog Lovers Society

An invisible yet discernible affection connects people who love dogs and find comfort in their close by presence. This complicity has opened the doors of our Presbytery where dogs are allowed to some of the meetings with their owners, a rare permission in the US.

The Committee on Preparation for Ministry enjoys the presence of a little white dog, Bijou, who looks like a lamb. Bijou graciously allows us to share the company of her owner.

However, Bijou has immediately shown irritation when a rival joined us at our meetings. Hannah Murray is a tall pup, with a spotted brown fur, typical of her breed : Hanna is a Louisiana Catahoula Leopard dog, an AKC (American Kennel Club) registered breed – you will find them under the category “unusual breeds”.
Catahoula Leopards dogs are called that way because they originate from the Catahoula County in Louisiana, and because the spots of their fur are often reminiscent of leopards. They are untiring and loyal shepherd dogs.

Max, her owner, found her about ten years ago – she was alone, wandering by Camp Murray.
Hannah is gentle and benevolently accepts to be patted ; she does not show any annoyance when Bijou barks right in front of her.

Our monthly meetings last 6 hours and Hannah serenely spread herself out while we discuss, waiting for the breaks during which she will enjoy a short walk. When she realizes she is going to stretch her paws, she smiles, a wide smile that shows her teeth.

I tried to take pictures of the smile, but as soon as she saw my camera, Hannah lowered her head and moved away. Max explained that she fears flash lights and cameras. I took several pictures without flashes – those pictures are not that great. I can discern her back, some paws, a blur of ears, but no smile. Hannah consented to pose by Max but you can tell she is not exactly comfortable.

An invisible yet discernible affection connects people who love dogs. Since yesterday, I am thinking of my friend Brandi and her pup Maka. We have not seen each other for several years but we communicate through facebook. We have often exchanged posts and comments about our pups and their little mischievous acts, and the joy to live with them.

On Wednesday night, Maka did not come home. Later, Brandi found out that she would not see Maka again. She wrote on her facebook page “Rest in Peace Maka…” I never got to meet Maka but I feel so sad...

Let’s work on our gratitude skills!

In the US, November is above all Thanksgiving month. “What are you plans for Thanksgiving?” will you already be asked although this American celebration is taking place on the fourth Thursday that is November 25th.

Thankfulness is a recurring theme at this time of the year. “What are you grateful for?” asked Danielle, one the creative volunteers of the Church to the children during the last Sunday school time. Children were invited to write down their answers on colored papers shaped like leaves. The leaves were then taped to branches, producing a multicolored Thankfulness Tree and Danielle took this picture.

Church of the Indian Fellowship is in its Fall mode. The building was built in 1949 and when it rains profusely like it happens here, rain may leak between tiles, the plumbing is sometimes uncertain. Life can be unpredictable at our church! Tony and Joe, who care for the building and work on the beautiful grounds they have created around it, also bring a calm and serene atmosphere. Tony is one of our Elders.

This sparrow wants McDonald!

New sunny day in our Pacific Northwest. Everyone enjoys and wonders if it will be the last of 2010! Our area is supposed to be the rainiest. I heard recently that it actually rains more over New York than Seattle. But we are the ones that have the most overcast days of the year. Nobody envies us that record. We changed time last Sunday. So it gets dark around 5 PM. When the sun breaks in the afternoon, all the colors of sunset are visible on and between the clouds, a beautiful and ever changing sight!

This afternoon I went to have my hair cut. My favorite salon is informal, close to home and you can just walk in. I don’t know ahead of time who will hold the scissors but I am always satisfied with the result. Solvay, the young blond woman who took care of me today looked Scandinavian. She explained that she is Norwegian and Swedish on her mother’s side. She added – I was not expecting this – that she was also Native Alaskan on her father’s side and enrolled in the Tlingit tribe. “I miss Alaska, she commented. I love to go there and dance the traditional dances with my cousins. I don’t exactly look Native but they all accept me as I am.” She knows the Puyallup reservation, goes to the clinic over there and never realized that this white building on top of the hill at the cemetery was a church, our church. I invited her to join us for worship on a Sunday.

After I went back into my car on the parking lot of the strip mall, I was surprised to see a sparrow on the rear-view mirror of my car, so close to me – obviously fearless, even looking at me straight in the eyes. I could take my camera from my purse and take this picture without it flying away.
I understood what was going on by looking in the rear view mirror: a McDonald fast food restaurant was right there behind me. I suppose cars stop about where my car was parked and their drivers eat their meals they just got from the drive-in. The crumbs and leftovers buns are given to the birds. This sparrow was hoping to get its share. I had no problem imagining this one telling me “Hey, where is my Big Mac?”

Oh no, I won the raffle!

I have accepted it for years. I have absolutely no luck in games or gambling. When I would go into the casino of Trouville, France with my girlfriends, years ago, my coins would be swallowed by the machines without ever provoking ringing sounds and cascades of earnings. I take part into raffles without second thoughts, just for the joy of contributing to a good cause. Each time, it is confirmed to me: winners are always the others ones, never myself. Not that I am bitter or anything.

At Curves where I work out day after day at building steel muscles under my curves, members regularly have the opportunity to be part of charity actions. Sometimes we can bring cans for a food bank, or newborns diapers for an intensive care unit specialized in caring for infants. Or we can purchase raffles tickets whose profits will go to research against cancer. I felt very comfortable buying two tickets, $5 apiece, at the end of October. The grand prize of the raffle was a weekend in a cabin in the countryside. I enjoy my own home for weekends, which usually are the busiest time of the week and countryside depresses me. I was particularly serene when I purchased those tickets.

But the specific irony of chance caught up with me after all those years. On Monday, a joyful voice on our recorder let me know that my ticket had won me the envied grand prize. Uh oh. And since Irvin also heard the message and immediately rejoiced at the news, I could not discreetly decline the prize.

So let’s be positive. We probably will be able to spend this weekend in the middle of the week in a not too rainy time in the coming months. According to the depiction of the place, the cabin is located not far from the scenic town of Poulsbo, close to a beach (something that will immediately raise my moral) with views on the mountains.
And I have to admit it since I just experimented it : winning the big prize also provides a rush of excitement and unexpected joy. Whatever the grand prize may be.

Election Day in Our Neck of the Woods.

The elections took place today and the event is quite conspicuous. Adds on TV are everywhere, and most of them are negative, pointing the finger to the opposite candidate, guilty of many wrongdoings and most of the time represented by an unflattering picture surrounded by swirling dollar bills. This demonstrates that the opposite candidate squandered away the money of the taxpayer and/or is financially dependent of lobbies and/or obviously unable to steer the country away from the recession.

We also receive phone calls: messages to remind us to go and vote for the right candidate. Yesterday morning, still in bed, I looked at the ringing phone and saw that the caller was identified as “toll free”. I did not pick up and was glad I did not. Our recorder was fully able to receive the message by itself – that was a prerecorded message reminding us that the country relies on us. I cannot do much for the country when it comes to voting. I am not American (yet?).

The National elections always take place on the first Tuesday of November. This date in the year was picked when the United States population was mostly composed of farmers. In November, the harvest is done but the weather is not too cold yet. Tuesday was preferred to Monday because at the time, the voters had to go through a long journey to cast their ballot. A vote on Monday would have meant to start the trip on a Sunday, the Lord’s Day which was not acceptable.

The proximity of date with Halloween may cause some interference in communication. That day, our neighbor always transforms his house, across from ours, in a large cemetery complete with huge spider webs. This time, he also put up a sign for one of the candidates. Does he support this guy? Or is it his way to express that this candidate has ideas that should remain in the cemetery of outdated stuff, next to his own sign “Beware”?