The Ghost in the Machine and the Holy Spirit

In late 2022 and early 2023, I first heard about ChatGPT and the current incarnation(s?) of artificial intelligence, I heard a lot of experts telling us that machines/programs/AI can't learn the way humans can learn.  Then they'd explain the creation process of these technologies and how humans programmed them to learn, and I thought, that process sure sounds the way my students learn.

Now I'm hearing a few people talking about the technology and issues of morality and spirituality.  Granted, more people are talking about how AI might kill us all--this week, at least, more people are talking about those dangers.  I saw one pastor post his notes from a Carey Nieuwhof webinar on AI and the Church and this bit intrigued me:  “AI doesn’t have the Holy Spirit. You have the Holy Spirit. AI doesn’t pray.”

When I was growing up in the 1970's, almost every Christian faith tradition taught that humans were God's supreme creation, the best of the best.  Many of those traditions taught that only humans go to Heaven.  It's a different faith scene now--says this pastor who is thinking about her first blessing of the pets as part of a worship service, at least first as one I've led.

This morning, I find my mind coming back to AI, to our beliefs (hopes?) about how human neurons are superior to silicon neurons.  I think about an NPR show back in the early days of this century that had philosopher Daniel Dennett as part of a panel discussion on Artificial Intelligence. He said that he thinks that silicon based life forms (like computers) are eclipsing carbon based life forms (like you and me). Further, he said that computers are using humans to assist in the evolution of computers. The part of me that loves sci-fi was intrigued, and continues to be intrigued. The part of me that doesn't understand machines was horrified at the thought of enabling them to take over the world and enslave us.  The rest of the panel scoffed at Dennett's idea.

Now it seems like prophecy--or that Dennett was keeping up with the research in a much more comprehensive way than most of us.

I am aware of the dangers of anthropomorphizing this technology, and yet I keep thinking of Claude or ChatGPT praying.  What would those prayers sound like?  Would God hear them?  How would God respond?

This morning's pondering took me back to other times when I've tried thinking about God in different ways than I was taught in childhood.  It's made me think of a poem I wrote a long time ago, when I looked up at the pre-dawn sky and thought about how many astronomical objects are cold, hard rocks as far as we can tell. It led to this poem, which has become a renewed favorite of mine, after the spouse of a dear friend told me how it had stuck with him and made him think about the universe differently. It was published in my first chapbook Whistling Past the Graveyard.


Geology, the True Life Science


Our planet—warm, gooey corner
of a cold, lifeless cosmos,
a primordial ooze which forms
the perfect building blocks for life,
a miraculous exception to the universal
rule. The official astronomer’s story.

But perhaps God prefers rocks and minerals.
Why else create such a diverse abundance?
Maybe animals and humans are the experiment
gone horribly wrong, an accident of pumping liquids
surrounded by decaying flesh.

Bones calcify, kidneys form stones, arteries harden
with plaque—instead of medical disaster,
perhaps our bodies move towards their ultimate evolutionary
destiny, seeking God’s pleasure.

Post-Labor Day Shift

It has been an intense few weeks, book-ended by Quilt Camp on one end and Crafts for Christmas on the other end.  I made a quick trip to Columbia, SC for an overnight last Wednesday; I am trying to go once a month to see my grad school friend who had the catastrophic stroke 2 years ago.

I've had tech woes with the authenticator app which allows me to access my online classes, so I feel a bit behind.  That school has just switched its process for attendance verification, which has also left me feeling discombobulated.

It's been a good teaching time, particularly for my 2 Creative Writing classes.  Last week I had the class peer edit a short piece of mine; it's one of the few things I've written that works as both a short story and a piece of creative nonfiction.  Then we wrote together.  I brought my laptop, and I wrote too.  As a result, I have a new short story, one that came to me during Quilt Camp.  I still need an ending, but I expect to have that after I go on my walk. 

This morning, I also have that sad wistfulness that comes from knowing it will be some time before I see these friends again:  neighborhood friends, retreat friends, and grad school friends.  There's also a bit of overwhelm from a fixer-upper house that needs us to take the next step of refinishing the floors.  And there's the ordination overwhelm--I am doing an onground intensive in October, and I have some work to do beforehand, including a Zoom session tonight.

Let me go and walk and remember that all will be well.

Tech Woes, Famous Death Woes

Yesterday was a frustrating day.  On Thursday, I had trouble with the authenticator app that I have to use to get access to my online classes.  On Friday, I had the same trouble, so I thought I'd call the help desk early in the morning before everyone else tried to call.  So, at 4 a.m., I called, and at 5:20, I was able to explain my issue, and a ticket was created.  It left me frazzled all day, and feeling annoyed that I was letting tech troubles get to me.

I thought the problem was solved, but no, this morning, the app is not working again.  Later I will go up the hill to use Lutheridge's wi-fi, to see if the problem is my home wi-fi.  But other than that, I am not going to waste another day on this.

Yesterday afternoon the Crafts for Christmas retreat started.  I haven't had time to make a sample, so I made a small string of bunting.  We ate dinner, and then we did more crafting.  I was feeling tired and still a bit frazzled from the day, so I headed home at 8.  I am sure there were retreat friends that crafted all night.

Yesterday I put together a draft of a sermon.  I was sure it was terrible.  This morning, I read it and thought it wasn't nearly as awful as I worried it was.

Yesterday I had planned to write an appreciation of Gloria Steinhem, who died on Wednesday.  Like others who have died recently, she had a long life; she was 92 when she died.  For many years, I was a subscriber to Ms., the magazine she founded.  In pre-internet years, it was an amazing resource, with more global news than I was getting otherwise, with a wide diversity of alternate visions of what life could be.

This morning, I found out that Cassandra Wilson also died this week. There were several years in the mid to late 90's when I was in love with her voice and her music.  Her version of "Last Train to Clarksville" was revelatory--or so it seemed at the time.

I'm listening to it again as I finish this blog post, and while it may not seem groundbreaking now, it's because so many people have done similar work (taking an old pop standard and making it anew) in the decades since she did it.

I am ready to stop writing tributes--I am hoping for a few weeks with no notable deaths.

Now, let me get ready for another day--creating with friends, one of the best kinds of days!

Making Cut Paper Cards

Earlier this week, I went to the studio of a neighborhood friend.  She wanted to make cards out of cut paper, and I was happy to try my hand.  She had the supplies, including papers we painted earlier in the year for a retreat.  If you look closely, you can see the hymnbook print behind the paint.

One approach is to look for words that match the picture or mood.  I rarely did that.  I was primarily looking for the colors that I needed.  But when I returned to the picture below to add some additional green circles that I hope look like a tree canopy, I saw some bits that worked, most notably at the top word "Seasons."

It was a fun exercise, but harder than it looks.  I was trying to make shapes that evoked tents, but I'm not sure the purple under the trees or the red shapes at the bottom of the mountains in the upper card do that.  I was more pleased with the trees and with the mountains.  

My friend also decorated the envelopes to match the image on the cards, but I didn't have the patience to work with that canvas that needed to be smaller so that there's room for the addresses.

It is fun to work on a project like this one while catching up.  I'm grateful to be able to share her supplies and the hospitality of her studio.  And now I have two more cards to send out.  I am feeling truly fortunate.

All Our Cells: Cars, Monastic, and Other

Yesterday was a good day--we all headed to Bristol for church in our separate cars and lunch afterward.  The classy brunch place was closed because of some kitchen malfunction, so we went to a different downtown hotel for a different lunch experience.

Happily, they had both a breakfast and a lunch menu; it could have been worse.

Today I head down I 26 in a different direction towards Columbia.  A grad school friend had a catastrophic stroke 2 years ago, and she's in a skilled nursing unit in Columbia.  I try to get down to see her every 4-6 weeks.  After that visit, I'll swing by the house of another grad school friend.

This morning I was thinking about cells, the Julian of Norwich kind, and cars, the modern cell and wondering about poem possibilities, even though I'm sure I've used that imagery before.  I'll post the poem, but that doesn't mean I won't revisit this idea.  After all, I wrote the poem a long time ago, during a different time of commuting to adjunct jobs in South Florida.  What does it mean to be doing this driving now, as an older woman?  Stay tuned!

In the meantime, here's the older poem, first published in my chapbook, Whistling Past the Graveyard:

My Habit, My Hairshirt


A modern day anchoress, I commit
myself to my car. In my moving cell,
I sing constantly and pray without ceasing.

I dedicate myself to our modern religion
of hectic pace. I rush from one location to another,
showing my devotion in twelve hour increments.

No time for contemplation, the anathema
to the modern ascetic. I flog
myself with my cell phone and briefcase.

Occasionally, a heretical urge lures
me, a siren song urging me to slow down,
tempting me to tame my frantic schedule.

But no Gnostic visions for me. I race
through another week in the grip of my Daytimer,
my habit, my hairshirt.

Fixer-Upper Report

My brain has been ping-ponging all over the place.  I wish I could say that I have seized summer, that I have put together a new book length volume of poetry--or even that I've written lots of new poems.  I wish I could say that I've written some short memoir-ish/short story pieces.  I have not done any of these things.  

In the next month, I will need to write a paper for my Paul class, and finish a huge writing project for the next phase of candidacy in the process to becoming ordained.  My hope has shifted to having time for Creative Writing in the fall.

In the meantime . . . 

We are trying to get ready for guests next week for Music Week at Lutheridge, while at the same time, doing some stuff that the fixer-upper house in Spartanburg requires.  My spouse is on his way there so that the inspection of the electrical rough-in can happen (I have to stay here because I have a dermatologist appointment in my every 3 months after a melanoma schedule).  We went down there yesterday and came back with a shopping list.

We stopped at our local Lowe's in Arden, which is always fairly deserted, compared to similar stores in South Florida.  We chose ceiling fans, a light for the kitchen with a track with 4 lights, lights for over 2 bathroom vanities, and a small light for the fall.  We also chose a hood for over the range, which costs far more than I wanted it to cost.

When we bought the house, I was not thinking we would replace the ceiling fans.  On the contrary, I was happy that the house had so many ceiling fans.  But they're very old, working to varying degrees.  The electricians will install them if we bought new ones, so we went ahead and replaced most of them.

When we looked at the house, back before we bought it, I thought that we could paint the walls, refinish the hardwood floors, and move in.  And we could have done that.  But even though the house has solar panels, the wiring inside the house hasn't been updated:  most of the wall plugs are 2 prong.  We could have used adjuster plugs in every spot, but it would mean that the house wasn't grounded--not the safest for humans or for fire risk.

When it's time to sell the house, these improvements may pay off.  We're not living in a part of the country where old houses are bulldozed for new building to happen, so future buyers are likely to be happy about the house having been rewired with a new HVAC system put in.

And in the meantime, these improvements will make the house better for us to live in too, during the 4-5 days a week that we're there during the school year.

Summer Writing Intentions

I have not meant to let so much time go by since my last blog post; indeed, I'm astonished to see that I haven't written since Friday.  On Saturday, I wrote a rough draft of my sermon, and Sunday, I had to be on the road by 7 a.m. to preach and preside at Faith Lutheran in Bristol.  Yesterday I was putting together the syllabus and other unique-to-me course elements for the online Professional Writing class that I'm teaching for Spartanburg Methodist College this summer.  The class starts on Tuesday, a week from today, but students have access on Thursday.

I often tell people that the only time I really feel that I have off is the week between Christmas and January 1:  no classes to teach, no sermon to write, no prep work to do.  Still, this week feels different, even though I still have appointments and online teaching duties.

It feels like the first week of summer, although it's hard for me to pin down when summer starts precisely.  The last day of in-person class feels like a demarcation line, as does turning in grades, as does graduation.  I want to spend some time this week planning for ways to get back to creative writing, the non-seminary, non-sermon writing.  I want more poetry.  I also want to remember that this summer is the time I planned to put a new poetry collection together.

Here's what I wrote in a December blog post:  " I'm going to wait until summer to do a deeper dive into manuscript assembly. I'm going to create a new manuscript called Higher Ground. The title works on several levels with the climate change poems along with spirituality poems."  That blog post reminded me that I had looked at past manuscripts--do I want to use one of them as a skeleton/scaffolding or start by looking at files of individual poems?

I also want to return to my New Year's resolution, which was also my 2025 resolution:   "I am not feeling OK about how many poems I am not writing. I do a good job of writing down fragments and inspirations, but I'm also aware that I have fewer inspirations and fragments in the past year or two than has been usual. I want to end the year with 52 poems written, finished poems. They may not be worth sending out, but they need to be finished. Fifty-two poems gives me space to catch up, and space to have a white hot streak that sets me ahead."

Here's hoping for some white hot writing streaks this summer!

Julian of Norwich and Older Age

May 8 is the feast day of Julian of Norwich in the Anglican and the Lutheran church; in the Catholic church, it's May 13.  Is Julian of Norwich as famous now as Hildegard of Bingen or Ireland's St. Brigid?  Are any of these women more widely known now than they were in grad school when I first started searching for the females that had been left out of a variety of narratives?  I have no idea.  They are more widely known in the subcultures to which I belong, but in the wider world?

In those early days (the late 80's) of discovering female voices that had been left out of literature anthologies, I most treasured Julian of Norwich for her writing.  In later years, the theology of her writing fascinated me--so many centuries before any blooming of anything that could be called feminist, here was a woman writing about a feminine face of God.

Now, as I head into the second half of my life, Julian of Norwich calls to me in a different way.  For me, the last decade can be seen through a lens of loss:  my best friend from high school died a horrible cancer death, there have been other deaths along with a pandemic, we left South Florida for many reasons, job loss among them.  Why would Julian of Norwich speak to me in this new way?

I think of her, alone in her cell, all of her focus shrunk into so small a space.  I think of her as a model of living more with less.  So, I may never hike the Appalachian Trail in one long trek, but that doesn't mean that my life needs to come to a halt.  I may come to a point where I'm living in one room, but that might be a room that is more full than any of my previous homes.

When I've thought about my older age, I've assumed that I would create communities the same way I've always attempted.  I've thought about the Hildegards and the Brigids and their nunneries--I've always wanted (or thought I did) a community like that one.

Of course, having lived in smaller communities, I realize how much work goes into making that kind of community--but the rewards can be so amazing.

As my friends and family have had health crises, it has occurred to me that I may outlast my friends.  There may be no one to follow me to the commune.  What then?

I used to write to my friend with cancer:  "When we are little old ladies, rocking on the porch, we'll look back on this time . . ." and then I'd fill in with various visions.  When she died, I thought, well, I might be rocking on that porch all by myself.

Instead of that lonely vision, I'm going to train myself to think of Julian of Norwich.  Many of us may spend our later years not in some kind of community, but all alone, in our various houses and apartments.  While some isolation will occur, perhaps it can be a time of creativity, a time to focus that many of us won't have had before.

Mystics like Julian of Norwich can show us the way!

A Different Kind of Getting to Know You Exercise

Let me remember to record a really neat getting to know you exercise that we did the first night at the Create in Me retreat.  It's something that could be modified for non-retreat groups, and I'll give some ideas at the end of the post.

Advent

Our retreat theme was "Nature, Imagination, and Liturgy," so our opening exercise revolved around the liturgical seasons:  Advent, Christmas, Epiphany, Lent, Holy Week, Easter, Pentecost, and Ordinary Time.  

Epiphany

When we checked in, we had a nametag with a piece of colored paper in it--we sat at the table that had a larger sheet of colored paper that matched the color in the name tag.  It was a great way to make sure that we mingled new folks with returning folks.

Lent

The color of the paper matched the liturgical season (purple for Lent, for example).  We had a sheet of facts about the season, along with a small, blank banner.

Christmas

There was a table of all sorts of supplies.  Our project was to make a banner that matched the season, along with a song or prayer or poem.  We only had 20 minutes.

Ordinary Time

I admit that I was skeptical at first, as we sat there, every table staring blankly at the blank banner.  But it was a room of creative people, so soon we sprung into motion.  The energy level and discussion level rose.

Pentecost

When we were finished, we went around the room, explaining the banners and presenting our song or prayer or poem.  I was impressed with what we created--and impressed with how this exercise helped us get to know each other through a joint task and some friendly competition.

Easter

Could I create a non-religious variation for the first week in class?  I've used getting to know you Bingo, which is good.  The banner creating meant that people didn't have to move around the room and approach strangers, which is a plus for a lot of people.

Holy Week

I have a vision of this exercise, but with secular holidays and seasons, along with the holiday of Christmas, which is universal for my students.  Could non-creative students rise to the challenge?  I think they could.  Let me tuck this idea away.

A Tale of Three Butterflies

For most Create in Me retreats, we have a community art project, something we can work on together.  Some times, the work stays at Lutheridge, like the cross as tall as a human, made of clear plastic, filled with broken things.  One year, we knotted a quilt for Lutheran World Relief.  This year, we made a huge butterfly, decorated with bits of nature.  I brought it back to my house because Lutheridge didn't really have a place for it, and it had so much glue on it that I wasn't sure it was a good idea to leave it beside a trail to decompose, as we had once thought we would do:

Here's what it looked like at worship yesterday:

It began as a series of fan blades.  Here's what it looked like when my spouse and I first constructed it last week:

I felt a keen sense of failure and despair at this early stage.  My friend on the planning team had sent me this picture when describing what the group had in mind and asking if my spouse could build the base for it:

I wrote to my friend to tell her that we might not have created what she had in mind.  She wrote back the most perfect reply:  "It will look just as it should--a unique community effort."  I so needed those words, to know that I hadn't let the team down.

In the end, I like what we created better.  One friend used the leftover dried flowers that she created for her drop in station.  We used some of the leftover wood circles that had been cut for a prayer project.  We used interesting bits that people found during outdoor time.  

And in the end, yes, it looked just the way it needed to look--many good life lessons/reminders here.

Long Lasting Labyrinth Made of Braids

Yesterday, I posted this picture after we finished setting up the labyrinth at the chapel at Lutheridge:

Early on, the Create in Me retreat ended with closing worship and a labyrinth walk.  We have occasionally used the labyrinth that was created at the old tennis court, but it's not very accessible--and right now, it's still under downed trees.  So back in 2009, we created the braided strips that make the labyrinth.

How do I know that?  I went back to my blog and found this blog post that describes making the strips.  I also found this blog post which is a photo essay, and this post, which describes the experience of using the strips in words.

I have many reasons for why I continue to blog:  this ability to quickly find answers to the "what year was that?" or "how did this project go?" questions is one big reason why I keep blogging.

On the braided strips, we wrote prayers, along with gratitude and appreciation.  This morning, I thought about those prayers from 2009.  How many of them have been answered?  I thought about all of the people:  those of us we prayed for, those of us who did the praying.  Who is still alive?

I thought of all the ways we've used these long, braided strips:  for every Create in Me retreat since (almost 2 decades!).  Other retreats have used the braids, even non-Lutheridge retreats.  Other people have been inspired to try something similar.  I love that it's a budget friendly way to create a labyrinth.

It's a great metaphor for all the ways that our prayers and communities support us, even as the years and decades go on.  We braid our prayers together, in a variety of ways.  Those prayers braid us together, both immediately and through the years.  God, the master fabric artist, takes our offerings and weaves together our communities into an even more beautiful creation.

First Full Day of Create in Me

In some ways, the Create in Me retreat is the same from year to year:  Bible study in the morning, workshops, drop in stations with a wide variety of supplies and projects, worship and song, and of course, food and snacks (not all of which have this artist theme):

This retreat came with a coloring booklet and pencils on every table.  I haven't colored mine yet, because I might want to make copies.

Our theme is rooted in nature, so we've spent time in and with nature--including a nature walk yesterday.  We had 20 minutes to spend how we wanted, in nature, even if it was no further than steps from the door.  We had some questions to make us more intentional.

I went to my favorite tree, the maple between the Faith Center and the Dining Hall.  I spent time gazing and looking, looking close up, like I require my first year Composition students to do.  It was amazing.

I had a moment where I wanted to lie on the grass gazing up at the tree, but I decided it was unwise for many reasons.  I made an intentional decision not to take a camera or a notebook, to be fully present with the tree.

I love retreats for many reasons, but one reason is because it forces me to do what I say I want to do:  to be more present.

In the afternoon, we did worship planning.  I am always amazed how we come to the meeting at 3:30 with the barest bones of a worship service, and we have a fully-realized worship service prepared by the 6:45 start time.

We ended the day in the Faith Center, creating and talking.  It was a good day.  Of course, every Create in Me day is a good day--it's a foretaste of what could be. 

Quilt Camp Midway Report

Much of yesterday, I would have looked like this:

I've had one of those Quilt Camp weeks where I've had to balance the retreat and the other duties of my life.  Yesterday I had planned to go to the class I'm taking, Lutheran Confessions, by way of Zoom and come to Quilt Camp in the afternoon.  But my professor was having travel related disruptions, so we didn't have class.  I got several additional quilting hours in the morning--hurrah!

I made progress both on my own projects and on one of our group projects:

We were asked to take one of the paper doll forms and add fabric scraps to it to represent ourselves.  We've been putting them on the poster, and as we've been looking at our work, we've been praying for each other.

I loved making my self portrait in threads and fabric scraps:

I am tired, tired, tired.  Ordinarily I might say that I'm tired in a good way.  But last night, as my energy level crashed, I spiraled into a strange thought pattern, feeling like all of my fabric art is ugly, ugly, ugly.  What was that all about?

Part of it is being surrounded by other quilting artists who are all doing very different work from the work I'm doing:

My workspace is full of scraps, and the process of putting them into larger squares usually delights me.  The process still delights me, but I'm less sure how well it all works together.  I put some of my more varied squares together and felt despair.  I've got autumnal squares (think browns, coppers, oranges, yellows) and jewel tone squares.  Last night I thought, I've really got two quilts here--which might not be a bad thing.  But will I ever actually finish?

I'm also noticing a pattern in my larger life.  It's easy for me to do the individual parts, but harder to finish the larger project.  I thought about my writing life and all the poems I've written--but so few larger books.  

On the one hand, I take delight in the process, the creativity itself, the commitment to doing creative stuff every day.  On the other hand, I wonder how it might all be different if I focused on seeing a project through to the end.

Do I let myself off the hook too easily?  Should I be more rigorous?  If I decide I should be more rigorous, is it too late?

Let me remind myself of this article I read in The New York Times, an article that talks about Matisse in his later years, his last years, and an exhibition of his work from this time:  "The show includes more than 300 works on loan from around the world (with some exhibited for the first time) that demonstrate how wide the French master’s oeuvre stretched beyond his best-known paintings — to innovative drawings, gouache cutouts, illustrated books, textiles and stained-glass windows. It also challenges the conventional understanding of any artist’s 'late' years as an inevitable tapering off. Here, we see a blossoming, a relentless drive to experiment in new mediums and a radical simplicity that only a lifetime of making could achieve."

Poetry Inspirations: First Troy, Second Troy, Invasion Anniversaries

We have reached the time of the semester when I wake up in the middle of the night thinking about all I have agreed to do, all of my various obligations.  I know that I will get it all done.  I always do, and in past semesters, I've had even more on my plate.

I feel something shifting in me, something that says that maybe I should start saying no to more things.  Or maybe I just need a better calendar system so that I have a better sense of what I'm saying yes to--or maybe I need to get in the habit of saying, "I'll get back to you on this request when I've checked my calendar."

I am feeling that grouchiness that comes when I have papers to grade and I feel my poet self hollowing out.  I've been feeling uninspired.

Happily, I keep a blog.  Yesterday I went back to February of 2022, not looking for inspiration, but trying to remember the exact date when Putin invaded Ukraine (it was Feb. 24).  I found this post which answered my question and led me to the second blog post which inspired a poem yesterday morning.  It was this insight specifically:  "I am a middle-aged woman with arthritic feet and limited ability with weapons. I am not going to be the freedom fighter/spy who defeats Vladimir Putin; I do not have that level of skill or beauty."

Here's the first stanza of what is still a rough draft:

"I will not be the woman
who wins this war.
I have no skill with weapons.
I cannot kill the bloodthirsty dictator
after I seduce him,
I was never that kind of beauty.
No ships will burn
because of me,
no second Troy."

I felt inordinately proud of that last line of the first stanza, that allusion to the Yeats poem.  Does it work?  Is it too much?  I don't know yet.

I'm just happy to find that my poetry brain is still working in the background, as I make my way through each day's tasks.

Using the Story of the Wise Men to Teach Allusion

At the beginning of the term, I didn't know that I was going to use the story of the wise men in the Gospel of Matthew so frequently.  In this blog post, I've written about my use of the text of Matthew, which include translations, Biblical storytelling, and poems rooted in the text.  I plan to do something similar with my Advanced Creative Writing class today.

Tuesday I created something new for the class, something I didn't use in my English 102 class (although I might in the future).  We talked about the use of allusion, how it can work, and how it likely won't.   For example, if I name a character Herod, that's a name that comes with serious baggage, and I need to make sure that's what I want.  I talked about the passage in Matthew 2:18 that they might see in discussions of genocide in the Middle East, about a voice is heard in Rameh, Rachel weeping.

I gave them the following exercise as a way of thinking about allusion.  It provided some interesting pre-writing, and it was a good way of talking about allusion.

----

For today’s Daily Writing, you don’t have to actually write the story, although you can. What I want is a description of characters and plot for a story that you might write.


But here’s the twist: you must include at least one item from each of the three lists as part of the story you would create.


List 1: Plot

--a journey to a different land

--noticing something different in the sky

--a person in charge without the best intentions

--information delivered in a dream

--travelers show up unannounced

--sudden departures


List 2: Symbol


--a distant star

--gold, frankincense, and/or myrrh

--scholars who study the sky

--prophecy

--murder of children


List 3: Assorted


--scholars from a distant land

--weeping women

--prophecy fulfilled or otherwise

--people who are left out of the story who want a chance to have their say

Snow Days and School Days and Anxiety

This morning, I'm feeling oddly anxious.  I have much less reason to feel anxious this week than last.  The ice storm wasn't as bad as we feared it might be.  I had been worried that the seminary class that I'm taking starts Thursday, and I haven't gotten a Zoom link or seen a course shell uploaded in Canvas--this morning, it's there.  We have power, internet, and water, and I have another remote learning day today, so I don't have to worry about the roads.  My spouse had jury duty today--also cancelled.

So why the anxiety?

I've been trying to get to the bottom of my anxiety, trying to understand.  I'm sure part of my anxiety stems from my schedule ramping back up again--so, even though this week includes some extra time at home, most weeks won't be like this.  I've also been feeling anxiety about taking another seminary class with worries about all that could go wrong trying to take root in my brain.  What if the Zoom link doesn't work?  What if the class requires too much of me?  What if this class is the one that breaks me?

I do have to laugh at myself.  I've been taking online classes for 5 years, and I've never run into problems I couldn't solve.  I explored the course shell, and the assignments look manageable.  I have the textbooks.  And then there's the larger situation:  I'm not a 25 year old, just starting out on my life's journey.  I have a full-time job that doesn't depend on this seminary class.

My anxiety might also be sadness masquerading as anxiety.  Why am I sad?  Well, I've enjoyed these snow days, even as I felt anxious about all the ice that might fall.  I'm sad to see this snow vacation come to an end, sad even as I have at least one more day to enjoy.

Let me make a list of some moments that I don't want to slip away:

--I've enjoyed the cooking we've done,  from the seafood stew on Saturday to last night's homemade pizza made in cast iron pans.  I've baked bread, both an oatmeal bread on Saturday and a pumpkin bread this morning.

--We watched Sinners on Saturday--what an amazing movie!  If it hadn't gotten so much Oscar buzz, I might have skipped it, thinking it would be too gory a horror movie.  Thankfully, the gory parts weren't too gross, and the horror bits weren't haunting.

--I've done a lot of sewing and sorting of fabric.  I decided that I was ready for a change from the Christmas fabrics that I had been using, so yesterday I made the shift back to the same type of project, sewing log cabin patchwork out of scraps, but using a wider variety of fabrics.

--Yesterday I took an unintended nap.  I had laid down in the late morning to watch the glitter snow that developed in the morning but was only visible when seen through sunshine.  The trees gleamed through their ice glaze.  Next thing I knew, I was waking up from a deep kind of nap.

Snow Days, Grown Up Style

So far, we've continued to have electricity, internet, and water as the various weather systems swirl around us.  This morning, the wind is howling, and I've already heard a transformer pop, which only resulted in a tiny flicker of the lights.  Our luck may not hold, but I'm not afraid of being without power for hours or days the way I was last week.  There was a tree that went down in our neighborhood yesterday, taking a power line with it.  It only affected the lower part of the neighborhood, and it only took 90 minutes for power to be restored.

We are still stuck in the house, which I expected.  The precipitation that we got was mostly ice and freezing rain, which means that outdoor surfaces are a solid sheet of ice, which again makes me feel fortunate to have power.  We were lucky that the freezing rain shifted to regular rain Sunday afternoon and that the temperature stayed just above freezing during the afternoon and much of the night.

My school has canceled in-person classes both today and tomorrow.  They'll make a decision about Wednesday before noon tomorrow, but I may not be able to make it in regardless.  On MWF, I leave my house for campus before sunrise, and we are expecting a time of bitterly cold weather, which means the frozen stuff will still be with us.

I've been trying to make good use of my time.  I created a worship time for my congregation in Bristol (live streamed by way of Facebook, then put on my YouTube channel for those who don't use Facebook)--if you want more thoughts on this process, you can read this post on my theology blog.  I still have some work to do on my course shells for Spartanburg Methodist College, but I did get documents uploaded.  Maybe today and tomorrow I can get gradebooks set up.  I sent out e-mails and created announcements for my online classes that started last week.  I did some sewing and some poem writing and some sending out of poems and some cooking.

How lovely to think that I have two more days of this.  How lovely that I am not desperate to leave the house.

Intentions for 2026

Here we are, the first morning of 2026.  We did not stay up until midnight, but we did have champagne after watching my dad's alma mater, the University of Michigan, lose to some school in Texas.  We did some coloring on coloring sheets we made ourselves.  We did not talk about resolutions.

This morning is the time for me to set intentions.  I have four.  Careful readers of this blog might say, "Didn't you have three intentions that you couldn't keep for 2025?"  

I appreciate the power of New Year's Day intentions that tug at me all year long, even if I'm not entirely successful.  This year, I'll have 2 writing intentions and 2 health intentions.  

Writing Intentions

--I'm going to keep one of my intentions from 2025.  Here's what I wrote last year:  "I am not feeling OK about how many poems I am not writing. I do a good job of writing down fragments and inspirations, but I'm also aware that I have fewer inspirations and fragments in the past year or two than has been usual. I want to end the year with 52 poems written, finished poems. They may not be worth sending out, but they need to be finished. Fifty-two poems gives me space to catch up, and space to have a white hot streak that sets me ahead."

--Always hopeful about having a book of poems with a spine, I also plan to create a new collection of poems, with the title Higher Ground.

Health Intentions

--I can no longer find the article that recommended taking a walk after dinner, even a short walk.  I wanted to doublecheck the benefits that the article discussed, but no matter.  For four or more days a week, I want to take a walk after dinner, in addition to the other exercise I get through the day.  It can be a very short walk (the article talked about how the benefit was in the going out and doing it, not in the distance covered)--the goal is to get out of the house and get moving before settling into a chair for the evening.

--I thought about having 2026 be the year I gave up alcohol altogether.  But I realize this about myself:  if I tell myself I can never have something ever again, I often end up consuming more of it.  So, in 2026, I want to have 300 days of no alcohol consumption.  That gives me 65 days where I could drink.  And to be sure that those days aren't days of excess consumption to make the most of them, which often happens when I give myself a splurge day of any kind, I'm going to say that if I limit myself to one drink, that day counts as a half day, not a full day.

So, let's see how I do.  I'm excited about these intentions.

Christmas Pageants, Modern and Medieval

Yesterday's sermon about Joseph had a bit of pondering about Christmas pageants.  I began by thinking about the traditional Christmas pageant, where the starring role is Mary, while the rambunctious boys get cast as farm animals.  Yesterday's sermon was about Joseph, the part of the story that we rarely see in Christmas pageants:  Joseph who has one future mapped out, only to find out that his betrothed is pregnant with someone else's baby.

No, not pageant material--as I wrote in the sermon:  "it would make me deeply uncomfortable to see elementary school kids acting out today’s Gospel. But as an adult, I find this part of the Nativity story may have more to say to us in our non-Christmas lives than the rest of the incarnation story."

Here's what I posted on Facebook:  "If you are feeling a bit like Joseph, feeling like you had solid plans that have dissolved into a huge mess, perhaps my sermon that I preached this morning at Faith Lutheran Church (in Bristol, TN) would have meaning for you."

You can find the recording of my sermon here on my YouTube channel.  You can read along here and count the times I go off-script.

As I was preaching, I was thinking of a poem that I wrote, about being part of the angel choir and not realizing how much more powerful an angel would be than Mary.  I wrote it a long time ago, and my theology around Mary has changed.  I now see her as much more powerful.  But still, I wanted to revisit the poem, and I'm happy that my blog makes it much easier than digging through computer files, trying to remember the name of the poem.

It was first published in The South Carolina Review, and then I included it in my first chapbook, Whistling Past the Graveyard.  It does make me wonder if people even have Christmas pageants anymore.  My church has not in the time that I've been there, although they once did.  We just don't have enough children to do a pageant.

If we had a pageant, I'd try to make it different than the ones I was part of as a child.  I'm not sure how I would do that, so I'm glad I haven't been forced to come up with a plan.  But I wouldn't want today's children to have the experience I had and try to capture in this poem:

Medieval Christmas Pageants


The Sunday School pageant director embraced
the medieval ideals. Mary would have dark
hair and a pure soul. Joseph, a mousy
man who knew how to fade into the background.
Every angel must be haloed with golden
hair, and I, the greatest girl, the head
angel, standing shoulders above the others.

It could have been worse. Ugly and unruly
children had to slide into the heads and tails
of other creatures, subdued by the weight
of their costumes, while I got to lead
the processional. But I, unworldly foolish,
longed to be Mary. I cursed
my blond hair, my Slavic looks which damned
me to the realm of the angels.

I didn’t see Mary’s role for what it was: bit
player, vessel for the holy, keeper of the cosmic.
I didn’t understand the power of my position.
I could have led an angel uprising, although the history
of angel uprisings suggests that though whole new
worlds emerge, so do new tortures with the triumph.
I could have imparted messages of God’s plan,
spoiled all the surprises. I could just appear,
scaring mere mortals into submission.

Instead, I smoldered, smarting
at the indignities of mother-made wings
and long robes to ruin my long legged run.
I internalized the message of the culture
which didn’t offer starring roles for girls,
no head angel power for us.
Instead, the slender, the meek, the submissive
girl got the prize, the spotlight focused
on her kneeling knees, her bowed head.
I tried not to sing too loudly, to shrink
my Teutonic bones into the Mary model.

Winter Solstice Fragments

Let me take a moment and record a few bits and pieces from the past few days.

--This morning, I had my eye on the Amazon delivery schedule, which I almost never do, and I noticed that the tracker on the map was in the shape of a sleigh.  It made me smile.

--I was tracking some new fabric scissors.  I used my fabric scissors over Thanksgiving to cut Steam-a-Seam, and I won't be doing that again.  My scissors were a bit duller, and then my spouse tried to sharpen them the way one does knives.  Now the old fabric scissors don't cut at all.  I have a pair of 50 year old fabric scissors, which also aren't as sharp as I'd like, and a rotary cutter that also is not as sharp as it needs to be.  Yesterday I thought, this is ridiculous and ordered more scissors.

--I have not been doing a great job going for a daily walk.  I have managed to walk 2-3 times a week, which once upon a time (50 years ago) would have been the recommended amount.  I will get back on track in the new year.

--We watched A Muppet Christmas Movie, which is different than A Muppet Christmas Carol.  I like A Muppet Christmas Movie better--lots of funny allusions to all sorts of Christmas movies and themes.

--When I look back on this winter break, I want to remember that I did a lot of sewing, a lot of reconnecting with friends, a lot of reading of real books!  I didn't do as much walking or writing, but that's O.K.

--Today is the winter solstice.  After today, more light!