I cannot stop thinking of the people in Ukraine, still living in terror as explosions deafen. Today, food shortages are critical, the cold and snow will soon gnaw at bodies, medical supplies and services are almost non-existent and visible exhaustion is on the faces of young and old alike. Fear is a daily reality.
Children who survive this assault by Russia on their country will have bitter memories of childhood, just as it was for those children who survived the Holodomor of 1932.
The Holodomor – did you learn about it in school? I didn’t or at least I don’t remember learning about it. The English translation to the word ‘Holodomor’ is ‘death by hunger’. It was a famine engineered by the Soviet Union under Joseph Stalin. According to the 2010 findings of the Court of Appeal of Kyiv, there were losses due to famine of around ten million people … ten million! And it wasn’t just famine that resulted in lives lost, but cannibalism. According to the Harriman Review, over 2500 people were convicted of cannibalism during Holodomor.
Today, explosions continue, life carries on in underground shelters, food and medication shortages escalate, and remembrances of the terror of the Ukrainian revolution grow as Ukrainians fear that the Holodomor will once again be forced upon them by Russia. With the news this weekend, the anniversary of Holodomor, it is beginning to sound more and more of a possibility.
The Holodomor makes the desire for independence from Russia, a “need” … much more than a “want. It makes it a life-long “need.” It is not surprising that Ukrainians are fighting – and will continue to fight and defend their country.
Resilient in the face of terror and threat of reprisal, they are led by a courageous man, President Zelinskyy, Cabinet members and the brave women and men who valiantly fight for and stand up for democracy. They are not just fighting for themselves. They are fighting for people everywhere that democracy is being threatened.
Many Ukrainians arrived in Canada as refugees after the Holodomor, so it is not surprising that Canada has stood with Ukraine for decades. In 2014, a statue of a child, entitled “Bitter Memories of Childhood,” was unveiled outside the Manitoba Legislative Building in Winnipeg to memorialize the Holodomor. There are similar statues in other parts of Canada.
We must not forget the people of Ukraine. We must not forget all who work and fight for freedom and democracy in Ukraine and other places in the world.
“Eternal Spirit, Earth-maker, Pain-bearer, Life-giver, Source of all that is and that shall be … in times of temptation and test, strengthen them and us … from trials too great to endure, spare them and us; … from the grip of all that is evil, free them and us.” (adapted from the NZ Prayer Book) Amen. So may it be. Amen.
These are difficult days. We need to gently nourish our bodies, minds and souls – even more so than usual. This is an invitation to do that.
A bit of background: decades ago, I self-published a specialty cookbook. It sold well in the US, Canada, Australia, UK … and publication expenses were met. A number of years ago, I received unexpected emails from people who had discovered the book and wanted to know if it was still available. Sadly, nope. But, I had a few copies, so sent those people a complimentary copy. I didn’t think much about it – until recently …
It’s become clear that hunger and poverty issues are escalating, and for many, about to get even worse. I wondered what I could do. I decided to republish the book with a different title (“Nourish Gently: The Soulistry Cookbook”) and do it for free. So I began to type —- and type —- and type … (hopefully there are not too many typos that didn’t get caught).
“Nourish Gently: A Soulistry Cookbook” is now ready to download, to use, to share for free. No need to sign anything. No need to give any personal information. No need to pay anything. It’s a gift and can be downloaded here: https://soulistry.com/books
You are welcome to pass on the link to others. Hopefully, an unexpected gift of “Gently Nourish” will put a smile on faces and in some small way, help in these difficult times.
Btw, the book is both cookbook and story. As cookbook, recipes are free-from additives, preservatives, refined sugar, chocolate, and also offers recipe suggestions for salicylate-substitution along with a whole lot of unexpected extras. Nourish Gently also tells a personal story which hopefully will encourage readers to make time to gently nourish and feed their body, mind and spirit.
This is not a “fancy” book, or a “glitzy” book; nor does it make any promises health-wise/scientifically/medically. If readers are in doubt as to whether the recipes might be helpful to them/their family situation, they are encouraged to discuss it with their physician and/or naturopath.
Nourish Gently is shared in the hope that it encourages readers to gently nourish their body through the cookbook recipes, and gently nourish their soul through the Soulistry Story.
Today is ‘Dia de Los Muertos’ – ‘Day of the Dead – November 2nd, every year. The first time I learned about Day of the Dead was the Disney movie “Coco” and as a result, I wanted to learn more about the Mexican holiday known as Dia de Los Muertos.
On November 2nd, ‘literary calaveras’ (satirical poems in which the poet writes about ‘Death’ taking someone to the land of the dead) are shared; altars (ofrenda) are made to remember someone who has died; and families visit the grave of loved ones, sometimes bringing a sugar skull to leave on the gravesite.
“Bringing a sugar skull to leave on the graveside?” What’s that all about? While I enjoy walking through cemeteries, am not afraid of death, or uncomfortable being with people who are dying, somehow, the thought of creating a skull and bringing it to leave on a gravestone, was a difficult concept to comprehend. Clearly it was time for me to do some research.
I learned that the tradition goes back to prehistoric times when people believed in a spiritual life after death and made an offering to the god of the underworld (Mictlantechutli) who was expected to guarantee safe passage to his world. Interesting! More research needed … and doing that, I learned that at that time, brightly coloured sugar skulls were part of the offering to Mictlantechutli, but, when Spanish conquerers arrived (all offering except for the colourful skull made of a sweet confection which was often placed in home altars as part of the offering to the deceased) were lost.
Then, in more recent times in Mexico, Dia de Los Muertos became a holiday – a holiday around death – and a very, very colourful one at that!
While I have no Mexican ancestry, I have never liked the idea of wearing black as a sign of mourning. Rather, I like the idea of celebrating … remembering the deceased with joy … wearing anything-but-black to funerals because for me, when family and friends have died, they are never entirely ‘gone’ … I keep them alive in my heart and in my memories.
I have a strong belief that I’ll re-connect with loved ones again … in some way. Not in a way I can explain – but ‘some way.’ Is that a certainty? No. No one can prove that such a re-connection can or will happen. But … is it possible? Why no?!
I’m a “possibility-thinker.” And until scientifically proven otherwise, I am going to continue to believe that when I die, in some form, in some way, loved ones and I will re-connect.
And in the meantime, time to celebrate (albeit belatedly), Dia de Los Muertos and remember my parents, my siblings, my husband, my grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins and friends who have all departed this life. It is a special day to remember them with joy, celebration, and colour … and maybe create another sugar skull, Zentangle® style. 🙂
Thanks to Mexican culture for teaching me about this unique “Day of the Dead.”
For those living on the East Coast of Canada and the US, the Fall season is glorious in colour at this time of the year. Living on the West Coast, while the Fall changing of colours is a beautiful sight to behold, I admit to missing the red colours and the Maple trees and shrubs of the East Coast where I grew up.
When I saw these two in a friend’s yard yesterday, I couldn’t resist taking this photo. For me, it was TRIPLE “M” time: Magic! Memories! Marvellous! What a treat!
In the midst of deep concerns for the people of Jamaica as they face the worst hurricane they’ve ever encountered … in the midst of growing angst, concern and fear for the future of democracy in a growing number of places around the world … in the realization that bodies continue to age and medical services/supplies/medications are becoming harder to access and afford, Mother Nature offers TRIPLE M” moments of magic and memories that are marvellous!
Breathe – inhale the beauty wherever and whenever you can … if only for a moment. In that moment, the body, mind and spirit are engaged and experience calm, peace, hope. Magic! Memories! Marvellous!
In the midst of the political rhetoric/reality/anxiety in many parts of the word, this weekend, Canadians are marking Harvest Thanksgiving – a time and opportunity to express ‘giving thanks.’ Thanksgiving.
But these days, many struggle to find something – anything – for which they are thankful. Health issues, financial concerns, weather disruptions, faltering relationships, the political reality of our neighbours (from within and from DJT) complicate lives. It’s not easy to ‘give thanks.’
When I remember that “thanksgiving” is an “attitude,” not a feeling, I find it helps me look beyond and focus on an attitude change – a Gratitude Attitude.
Having a Gratitude Attitude Habit helps me extend my focus and be open to an attitude of hope, even when things may appear to be hopeless.
How to have a Gratitude Attitude? How about being grateful for yourself? Seriously … beginning with gratitude for ourselves is a great way to begin a Gratitude Attitude.
Here’s one way to cultivate this habit / attitude: Each morning, as you stand in front of the mirror, ready to brush your teeth, look in the mirror (hair likely uncombed, no make-up, haven’t yet shaved, grunge still in the eyes), think or say “Thank you Universe / God Creator (or just “thank you”) … for the gift of creation. Me.” Look into the mirror again and see the Gift of Creation. You!
Simple acts like keeping a Gratitude Journal, a Gratitude Box/Jar (click the ‘search’ bar here on Soulistry and you can read all about it) … sharing words of appreciation … volunteering … can cultivate a long-lasting sense of thankfulness, even in a world that can often feel overwhelming and anything but a place where one finds an attitude of gratitude easy.
Having an Attitude of Gratitude, grounds us and reminds us of the good that surrounds us.
A Gratitude Attitude can help transform the way we see the world. Perhaps only just for a moment … but it does work. 🙂
This weekend, whether Canadian and celebrating Thanksgiving as a holiday or not, may we all have an Attitude of Gratitude and “give thanks” and “live thanks” in some way.
***************************************** Nicole is on FB and IG … https://www.instagram.com/nicolesartbox/ Her words which accompanied her artwork: The flowergirl stands in the light Her glasses flow in lantern light She whispers dreams to stars above And fills the dark with gentle love.
Last night, I lit a candle for the people of the United States.
This night, I will light a candle again because many are bereft at the news and find fear the occupier of their thoughts.
Lighting a candle is a simple act but if I light a candle this night and you – and you – and you – and you light a candle this night for the people of the United States and the nights to come … whether we light a candle in our imagination in our prayers or in real time and space, may hope be lit.
It only takes one match to light one candle … one voice to light a conversation … one conversation to light a change in one person
Let’s light a candle. Let’s light many candles. Let’s light conversations. And who knows maybe those conversations will turn into votes.
At this point in time, it’s about HOPE even if we don’t believe there is hope.
This month, two wonderful young couples are celebrating the birth of their first child. I shared that good news with a friend and her response was not what I was expecting … “Why would they bring a child into the world at this time?” she said with fear in her voice. I stopped in my tracks. Then I remembered the fear in my mother’s voice when I told her I was expecting her first grandchild.
Years later, a conversation with Mom helped me understand her unexpected response. She and Dad had lived through WW11. When I told her I was pregnant, it was 1970 and the Vietnam War and the Kent State Shootings were part of the US story at that time. In Canada, there was the October Crisis; the FLQ (Front de libération du Québec) which kidnapped British Diplomat James Cross and Quebec Minister Pierre Laporte who was later killed; the Canadian Prime Minister invoked the War Measures Act; and martial law and arrests in Quebec sparked national debate about civil liberties.
I understood my mother’s fear. And yet, even though there was a lot of anxiety about the future, the excitement and joy outweighed the fear for the future for me.
My friend’s question – “Why bring a child into the world at this time” – has been asked since time immemorial.
The answer is always the same: “Hope … children bring hope.” Hope!
Welcome to this world, Samantha Violet LaBine and Freya Camryn Quinn and all Newborn Babies. 🙂 Welcome to this world, little ones! This world you’ve entered is big – very big!
It has … trees and animals, plants and bugs, galaxies and planets, rivers and oceans, stars and suns, fish and flowers and people. … people who speak different language. And people who can’t speak at all. … people who have different-shaped and different-coloured eyes. And some who have none. … people who are tall. While some are not. … people with red hair, brown, white, yellow, black and colours in-between. And some with no hair at all. … people with red skin, brown skin, black skin, yellow skin, white skin. And shades in-between.
This world you’ve entered is God’s creation. It’s exciting … and full of wonder! But it’s not nearly as exciting … as it will be. It’s not nearly as wonder-filled … as it could be. You see, the world is waiting … waiting for each of you to grow and learn … waiting for you to become a child, then a teen, then a grown-up. There is a reason you are here.
As time passes, you will discover your purpose, and in yet-to-be-determined-ways, you will contribute to the world in your own unique fashion. Yes, there is a reason you are here. 🙂
“It’s hopeless. You just have to accept that. Your child will never be a contributing member of society. I can make arrangements for him to be institutionalized. It’s all for the best.”
Those were the words the doctor spoke, telling the young mother that her son was “hopeless.”
Hopeless? There are many situations that many think of as hopeless … a marriage on the verge of collapse … a relationship that was desperate for reconciliation … war … a family that was estranged … a body that had run a good race for decades … corrupt politicians –
When human problems beset us … when our personal lives disintegrate … when the world seems as if it has gone crazy, it seems that we seek answers from every other physician, before we dare to “let go” and “let God” – before we resist putting our prejudices, our loneliness, our anger, our frustrations, our pride, our hatreds, our fears into the transforming hands of G_d, the Holy One, the Creator, the Personification of Love, the Bearer of Hope.
How long will it be before we reach out, like the woman with the hem who touched Jesus’ garment – or before we are like the story of Jairus, the ruler of a synagogue, who was searching desperately for some hope. He’d tried everything and now, one last attempt. When he finally found the man Jesus, he fell on his knees and repeatedly cried … “My little daughter is at the point of death. Come and lay your hand on her so that she may be made well and live.” Without a word, Jesus went with Jairus. And while that’s all that Matthew’s Gospel tells us, the story appears in Mark’s Gospel as well and carries this story further as we learn that a messenger from Jairus’ home comes and says “Your daughter is dead. Why trouble Jesus any further?” To the messenger, the little girl’s death was the end of the story. There was no hope. There was no point in trying to go further. It was hopeless. Fear set in.
Like the day a phone call brought fear to a priest who, the evening of the phone call, wrote about The Not-Knowing-Time:
“An ordinary medical test was done. Anticipating nothing unusual, and yet there was. “Redo the test” said the physician. “Nothing to worry about – but let’s rule out …” So, the test was redone and there it was. Again! “A specialist. I want you to see a specialist” she said. The rest of that day was a blur other than the ugly FEAR.“Get me to the specialist. Now! Let me know what I’m dealing with, so decisions can be made and life can be planned. The fear is not of dying. The fear is of the not-knowing.”
When we are in such fearful and seemingly hopeless situations, is the God-of-All-Knowing the first we consider turning to? Or turn to at all?
Then there’s the story of the woman who touched the hem of Jesus’ garment. The social context of the time was a significant factor. Because she was bleeding, she would have been looked upon as ‘unclean’. And as such, she was a woman, a person with no rights, and would have been shunned, at the very least, for daring to be in the company of the men who surrounded Jesus, and to touch the hem of his garment. Perhaps she prayed/hoped that her fears would be relieved.
What of the priest who wrote about “The Not-Knowing Time”? A week after the phone call, another entry in her journal: “Unraveling the Not-Knowing Time.”
“Sunday night I wanted to stay home, curl up in bed and watch some inane television program, but I couldn’t. I had responsibilities. In that moment, I hoped that no one would show up at church that evening and I could go home. But, there they were … the two of them. I couldn’t go home.
I remembered the phrase: “When two or three are gathered together, there am I, in your midst” and hoped/prayed that something happened for the two who came to church that evening and would happen for me. But, nothing happened for me. I felt no relief – no peace. “The Unknown” still haunted me as walked home.
Home at last. A cup of hot tea brought solace, but no relief from the Fear of the “Not-Knowing Time”. The phone rang the next morning with a message “Your appointment with the specialist is scheduled.” The “Not-Knowing Time” had begun to unravel.”
~~~~~~~~ Many others have desperate situations. Perhaps they are facing a seemingly hopeless financial crunch … a marriage that is on the rocks … a teenager or toddler that you can’t handle … a parent who no longer can communicate with anyone in ways others remember … a spouse who is imprisoned either in body or mind … living in poverty and/or war, addicted with nowhere to turn … grieving over the death of someone loved very much …the thought of losing medical coverage – house – job – freedom … a child/spouse/partner/parent who is ill or dying … dealing with their own medical crisis … and the list goes on.
There are countless stories that remind us that no situation is hopeless. But does this mean that if there is enough faith, every dead person will be raised to life on earth? … that money for every financial need will appear?… that everyone who is terminally ill will be cured? … that a job will be provided for all the unemployed? No. What it means is that we will be met in our fears and uncertainties and comforted in our Not-Knowing-Times.
Like the true story, long ago, of a wealthy woman, an atheist, who lived in Hanover, Germany. She wanted to prove to the world that there could be no resurrection. She gave orders to those who were to take care of her money after she died, to build a tomb of stone around her, so strong that her body could never rise out of it. Since there was nothing illegal about her request, the men built her a great tomb, and around it, they built an iron fence. What the builders didn’t notice was that a tiny seed fell into a crevice between two of the massive stones and one spring some years later, it sprouted. As the seedling grew into a tree, it pushed aside the heavy stones and the unbreakable tomb was cracked open.
If you go to a place in Hanover, Germany called Gartenfriedhof (Garden Cemetary), ask to be shown the Geoffnetes Grab (the grave that was opened). You’ll have no trouble finding the tomb, because out of its great crack grows the finest tree in the garden. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Her grave was opened. Hope stepped into Jairus’ life … stepped into the life of the woman with the hemorrhage and healed her body … stepped into the life of the child whose doctor pronounced him to be hopeless … stepped into the life of the priest who wrote “Knowing Time … Holy Refuge”:
“Procedures have begun. Nothing untoward showing up so far. Other complications on the horizon. Getting older and having the body not move as it once did is not fun. I must try to “let go and let God.” The talk about the “peace that passes understanding” isn’t just ‘talk.’ It really exists. Should fear well up within me again… should the unknown frighten me … should the “Not-Knowing Time” seem to engulf and entrap and overwhelm and I can’t move beyond it, I hope/I pray I will relax into the gentle, caring, loving hand of Hope – of Love – of the Creator – and allow myself to move into “Knowing-Time” which, from God’s perspective – from Hope’s perspective – from Love’s perspective – from the Creator’s perspective is “Knowing-Time.” Kairos … not Chronos. “Knowing-Time” exists … whether I feel it or not. ~~~~~~~~~~~~
No matter what situation you may be in now – or you may have to face in the future – with God, there are no “Not-Knowing-Times.” There is always hope! Consider these …
—- on a wall in Dachau prison, these words were scratched: I believe in the sun even when it isn’t shining. I believe in stars even when I see them not. I believe in God even when God is silent.”
—- In a tiny room in a refugee camp in Sri Lanka, four women were teaching songs to barefoot, dirty, scantily-lad children. Since there was no room to sit, they all stood for this brief respite from the noisy, hot, humid, dusty and impossibly crowded communal living area. On the door, crudely printed, were these words “Life is a gift from God.”
The refugees in war-torn Sri Lanka, the concentration prisoners in Dachau – they knew Hope – they knew Love – they knew another word for Hope, for Love – they knew the Creator, God, By Whatever Name … even in the midst of a terrifying yesterday, a bleak and often hungry today, and a potentially fearful tomorrow.
In many Christian churches this coming Sunday, people are marking Pentecost Sunday – a reminder that the Holy Spirit offers Hope – Love.
May we never forget that even sturdy tombs crack open! … that Hope/Love/God enters lives (enters the “Unknown Times”) – enters the moments of apparent hopelessness.
