The Need for Elders

This past weekend Brenda and I had an opportunity to spend some time with one of her old professors from college as well as the prof's husband, 17 lb. cat and two Siberian Huskies. We have been blessed to get to spend time with them (especially since we only see them twice a year), but this time was different.

Aside from the typical intellectual conversation that happens around a wonderful lunch, I began to have this sense that I was relating to them in a way that I had not previously. Any other time we got together I viewed them more as Brendas friends than mine.

Yet here I found myself after nearly 5 hours of visiting; connecting with Ed (the husband, who also has a Ph.D.) on a completely different level than before. Here is a man who was raised Jewish yet identifies himself more as a Unitarian. He shared with me stories of when he was living in Arizona, how he did a week-long Vision Quest to be initiated into the Hopi tradition and is the only Caucasian to have ever been allowed to join the Bear clan (a prominent group of Hopi that live on a pueblo in the shadow of the Navajo Mountain). How his border collie once saved his life one night when he was in the desert as it protected him from a coyote. Not only did the dog protect him, but it killed the coyote. We talked religion, politics, interspecies communication, string theory and how it all interweaves into our life journey. Even though he teaches Macroeconomics at a local college his deep sense of spirit, intellect and intention transcends his profession. It was almost as if I was sitting at the feet of the Elder that I never had. I know that I will make more of an attempt to spend time with him in the future. We share a lot of the same interests and I feel as though when we converse we are equals (even though I regard him more as an Elder). I could go on and on but I am still in awe and need days to really process all this.

Maybe that is what I have been missing. I have had many mentors and still do. But I have not had a lot of Elders. By that I mean a man who has been wounded and rather than transmitting the wound to others he allows it to transform him for the sake of himself and others around him. I mean a man who carries in his being the essence of life: adventure, purpose and wisdom. A man who holds in tension the masculine and the feminine.

When we got in the car to head back home Sunday afternoon, I told Brenda that if God should be gracious and give me as many years to live as Ed (guesstimating that he is around 70) I want my life to resemble his. Full of adventure, grace, discovery and wisdom.

Mnemonic... schemnemonic!

It looks like you can forget the old mnemonic sentence: My Very Eager Mother Just Served Us Nine Pizzas. The International Astronomical Union (IAU) is debating what constitutes as a planet and will vote on August 24 whether to include Ceres, Charon and Xena as planets in our solar system. If accepted the order would look like this: Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Ceres, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, Pluto, Charon and Xena.

I created my own mnemonic sentence to accomodate the change:

My Veterinarian Elbowed My Cat Jack Stirring Up New Psychological Condition Xenophobia.

What did you come up with?

I wish I'd thought of that

Most of you know that I am a whitewater rafting enthusiast. I am equally interested in kayaking as well. One site that I have been browsing is Perception Kayaks and the website has a really great marketing slogan that I wish I could use for this blog description, unfortunatley due to copyright restrictions the best I can do is post it. I think it also represents our life of faith in Christ. Keep in mind I say yes to this, here it is:

Welcome to the Renaissance of Yes.
It's the rebirth of possibility.
Discovery re-launched.
And it starts by saying Yes!
Yes to any question of discovery.
To feel that kind of honest exhaustion
we knew when we first used Yes!

Initiation

This was taken from the M.A.L.Es website in their June 2005 Newsletter. I thought that it had some bearing on what a man encounters on his journey. Enjoy.

I see men walking wounded:
hairy men, muscular men,
fathers, lovers full of sex,

but dripping with blood,
scarlet sons of pain cut by grief,
drawn and quartered by failure,
stabbed with jagged fear.

Some wise, bearded father,
some elder with a masculine embrace
has touched them with his own red-stained hand,
blessed them with crucified words,
sent them where they did not wish to go,
smeared them with divine musky oil,
named them beloved sons.

They have given up mountain climbing.
They have come down from the great bluff.
They have descended the shadowed canyon by a knotted rope.
When they reach the end, dangling over mysterious,
unknown ground, they let their grip slip
and land on soft snow in the middle of summer.

These men are my brothers.
I thought I had none.
I thought I had suffered the
male anguish alone.

But see:
We are wounded together,
broken in just the right places,
a company of bleeders,
each of us marked for death,
and we are still walking.

by Michael Coffey, AZ MROP 2005