Or I was, for a moment.
After a year of it being zoom church only I finally had the honor of participating in and/or conducting service 3 times in person! (At Ferry Beach, in Belfast and Castine).
Unfortunately though, the Covid-19 uptick with the Delta variant has us all concerned, And thus has us opting for virtual service again.
C’est la vie.
But before this there were some great in person moments…
This is my home altar space. It has slowly developed over a time, of collecting what I initially saw as small trinkets. Really I was building a small temple for my spirituality.
I don’t fit neatly in anyway in a “what are you?” box. This altar could look like that of many different faiths, which is truly what I channel. But in the end it makes sense as a Unitarian Universalist. I am content in this spirituality, which I long searched to understand and find.
Though it is modest, and a tad busy (with limited space), I invite you in to the outer workings of my eclectic spirituality.
Welcome!
The New Year is coming, its right around the bend. I am acutely aware of its presence as I have a service scheduled 12/27 for me to lead at Unitarian Universalist Church of Castine, with of course the theme being New Year. Well, the theme I have selected is “Letting go”, but really its related to the new year.
This year—2020, has been a lot to take. It has been a rollercoaster of emotion as we have had our lives upended with Coronavirus, and normalcy left far behind, somewhere in March or April. I want to talk about the fact that this year has been a trauma that we need to come to terms with, we need to let go of any feelings we have about the year, and just see it be as something that has come and gone, because that is what life does. We have long been talking about what a horrible year 2020 has been, and yes it has been traumatic, but labeling it as “bad” makes it seem as if when the ball drops on 2021, everything is going to be resolved, and whatever hurts we had in the previous year are going to be healed. They, unfortunately, are not going to be. We must still come through whatever feelings we have about what has happened so far and find peace with it.
I found several quotes that jumped out at me about letting go—why we do not do it, and why we need to. But the one that really got me, that I do not think will fit into my sermon as I have been piecing it together is this:
“No matter how much suffering you went through, you never wanted to let go of those memories.”―Haruki Murakami
I do not know the author, and I do not know the context, but I feel like the message it gets across is sharp. It is hard to let go of the memories of things that hurt, that tried you, that scarred you. And we keep this baggage close, and memorialize it, not recognizing how much harm it may still be inflicting by us doing this. I wonder how much of this year we will do this about. 2020 will become a memorialized year of the great pandemic, and it will solidify in our memories as a worst time, that we cannot bare to repeat again…
But what if we let go of the value judgment on the year and just recognize how we have grown around the obstacles it posed. Further, doing this may help us brace for the reality that there is no clean, clear end to what we like to think of as “2020”. Facing the realities of time, and current predicaments letting go of attachment to 2020, and judgment of it, allows us to heal hurt around the memories therein this time.
I lost 2 beloved individuals in 2020. One, a friend, died causally related to the coronavirus; the other, my grandmother, passed in a predicament of ordinary surgery gone wrong. My natural inclination is to curse this year, and want nothing more than it to change, so that the trauma will be left behind in another year, and so that a new day will bring about something new, something radiant, something to resolve these pains. But nothing in 2021 will bring back either my friend or my grandmother, I know this, nor will it necessarily make the pain of their loss any better. I know this deep down, but something in me still just wants that celebration of a new year, a new beginning; particularly to what we all hope is the end to Coronavirus.
It is December, and a vaccine has begun overseas, and not yet here in the US, but it exists. And how effective it is, and how bad the side effects are is yet to be seen.
But it exists.
There is hope. Really, there always has been hope. Yes, there is hope within 2020.
Trying not to see the year as bad has made me recognize how much of what I am viewing as bad/good is just an illusion of human definition. It makes me be realistic of my expectations for a new year, and it makes me have hope that things can change (at any time). I will try not to call 2020 a bad year. To do so only gives it more power and makes it more painful. Maybe I should see it as the difficult time, or a trying time. Or perhaps, “it was the best of times, it was the worst of times,” just like it always is.
I will let go of 2020, in my encapsulation of 365 days as a bad period of my life. For regardless of how difficult it has been, or how painful, it still is 365 days of my life; 365 days that I do not get to repeat. I can reflect on it, I can experience fear, pain, sadness, joy, happiness, et cetera about it, but it is still a piece of my life. This is what the quote I singled out picks up on — no matter the suffering it is a part of our lives, it is a part of us. We do not get to recreate this time. But, I feel we can hold these memories, but not hold attachments to them that will only scar us more. Thus I will try to remember this time, that we call 2020, I will know the challenges faced, but I will let 2020 go. I will pray for easier tides as we go forward into the future, but I will be aware, from the lessons this time has taught me, and that this time has taught us all.
As the winter holidays arrive this season, it is fitting that my task as of right now for my Constructive Theology class is to discern my personal theology. I have often struggled with articulating my faith, which is not exactly what I was raised as, (loosely Lutheran). Coming into the holiday season, as Happy Holidays prevail, I wonder, what exactly I am personally subscribing to when I receive such a greeting?
Yes, I am Unitarian Universalist, but what do I believe? In contemplating this, I learned the following of myself: I believe in the 7 (and 8th) principles set forth in Unitarian Universalism, but even before that, I believe in an entity that is greater than I, greater than the universe, greater than anything that can be imagined. But I believe that we, as beings, as creations of existence are a part of this entity. Some might be settled to just say “God,” but I am a philosopher at heart and delve deep into what exactly is meant by such a term. To me God, Spirit, is greater than we can completely comprehend, with names being inadequate for this entity. But it is not without merit to attempt to grasp at this greatness, in reverence of its entirety.
Perhaps this is why so many different faiths have different means of understanding this entity—be it God, Goddess, a combination of deities, or otherwise. Contemplating different faiths, I can see the merits in many, and yet have struggled to find which is mine. From this search I have come to find that my faith is eclectic. When one wishes me ‘Happy Holidays” I think of a flame that withstands the dark nights longer than possible, I think of a newborn babe that brings hope to the world for holiness, I think of the divinity of a goddess spirit that births the sun into being, I think of people reunited after centuries torn asunder from homeland and each other.
My belief in a panentheistic entity that is and creates and holds the entirety in its being has room for all of these faith traditions. I may not attend each of the separate houses of worship that these faiths deem holy, but I have reverence for them. In this way, I can appreciate the holiday greetings specific to the individual holidays that pass through these months, as well as the all-encompassing “Happy Holidays.” At this time, even in our separate quarters may we see ourselves and feel the holiness of spirit in the warm-hearted greetings of many faiths that still surround us,
Happy Hanukkah,
Merry Solstice,
Blessed Yule,
Happy Kwanzaa,
Merry Christmas,
Happy New Year,
Happy Holidays!
It is mid-November, and we have been stuck in the “Twilight Zone” that is life amidst the coronavirus for approximately 9 months now. Nine months has brought us to the start of the winter holiday season, and the Thanksgiving seasons here in the United States. In summary these are the months that we are supposed to huddle close together with family and friends to make it through the cold of winter months. And yet, we are unable to do this. For fear of the virus, for ourselves, for others, we keep distanced at a minimum of 6 feet.
We quarantine in homes; we keep outside travel to a minimum. We cancel our winter plans to travel across state lines to be nearer to distance family and friends. Here in the hour that we most need each other we are amid an uptick in the virus. Why, is irrelevant, but the fact that it is here and very real is known to all who have had to suspend life, to be well protected.
And when we can visit on another, it is short lived, and feels like it is not enough. The short visits, that are masked and distant, that are made with overprotective arrangements are a sharp reminder of what we are missing in our daily lives with this virus at hand. Holding on to hope was something that we started this with, now it seems silly to talk of hope, when that is all we are trying to do, hope that things will clear up, some time, someday, some way.
As winter months set in, homes are lonely, holiday presents are passed through the mail only, and not hand to hand. We are feeling now through the loss, the immense need of our human nature for community. So, we will make community, where we can, via video messenger, but it still is missing what we need—a handshake, a fist bump, a hug.
I wonder if this is what our ancestors felt when loved ones had to go on long epic trips overseas, into unknown lands, to find a way forward for their people. No, it is not the same, but I can see how the feeling of loneliness, fear, frustration, may be shared with these experiences. In a technological age, that has political strife and division, we are being reminded to come closer in other ways, through our human nature, as pack animals.
I have always been passionate about politics. Growing up, my father was an avid follower of the 24-hour news cycle. What was an annoyance in childhood, of hearing the news announcers, became an accepted and welcomed part of my life by the time I was in adolescence. The first time I was aware of the importance of the presidential election was in 2000, during the Bush v. Gore election.
It was quite an election to welcome one into the world of politics, as there was nothing normal about this election. As day after day followed the close of polls, and the counting of pregnant and hanging chads continued, I was both confused and intrigued by this process. So much was at stake! The fate of the free world rested on an imperfect electoral process. This was much to take in at the formidable age of 12–weren’t adults supposed to have all the answers? Had no one already foreseen these issues and outfitted a solution in advance?
20 years later I have already voted in the 2020 presidential election, and with the complexities and conflicts of the current two-party system feel more reassured that my ballot will be counted. The election date has not yet arrived, but the pressure is on, from both sides. Local channels air political ads, back-to-back, between shows and on commercial breaks, likewise on the radio. It is hard to avoid the politics, that along with the coronavirus has taken over the nation. I am aware that not all electoral cycles are as tenuous, but presently fear and uncertainty for the future are in the balance for individuals nationwide with elections. And thus, I am thinking not just about my own hopes for election outcomes, but for the safety and wellbeing of others as they endure these stressors.
With the tension of this election, I pray you have space for peace of mind. Moments of deep breathing and relaxing, with eyes closed, time to remember the self and that which is being worked for, not just the repetition of political ads and their fear mongering tactics. Breathe. Find means of enjoying the day and may it ground you. May you find yourself amidst chaos that is around you. Feel your body as it is positioned here on earth, in this space and time. Remember who and where you are.
I hope you might partake in efforts to find grounding on your own, and thus I have included a link to a short video detailing and exercising some grounding techniques.
As the election comes and goes, with whatever results we are left with may you find piece and use these small measures to stay grounded and focused in your own life.
Blessings!
Vanessa
The days have become shorter, with darkness descending sooner and a chill now in the air. Summer days have come to a close, leaves now glow orange, red, and yellow like a seasonal flame. This shift in days, shift in temperature marks a shift in the cycle of the year. All these changes note a time when the veil between this world and the hereafter is the thinnest, this 31st of October. Samhain, as it is called marks the Pagan celebration of the time when harvest has been collected and those departed are with us closer than ever, again.
Samhain, celebrated generically in the US as Halloween, has always been my favorite holiday of the year. Even as a child it was not about the candy, or the games, but rather about a certain distinct feel in the air. This year Samhain comes with much more solemnity than in previous years, for me. This summer my grandma, Verna Hoffman, passed away unexpectedly. While this is not the first person whom I have lost, it is the closest relation to whom I have had to say goodbye. My grandmother is now among the company of other departed relations, who I love and miss, like my great Aunt Barb. Both women were strong, beloved individuals, with colorful and formidable personalities. Their corporeal presence may be missing, but now, especially as felt on this day, their spirits dwell close, and their memories are renewed.
My great Aunt Barb was a loving woman, full of life and commitment to family. An amazing cook, I recall the fragrant smell of her home, and the open motherly presence that she bestowed. Most of my memories of her were as a small child, but they lasted. I came to know later that her love was also an acceptance of me and my biracial family, when few in our small town did. I dreamt about her once when I was in college. The dream was out of the ordinary for me, but was one of comfort that brought forth warm memories of my childhood in her company. Days later, a call from my mother informed me that Aunt Barb had died, at home in her bed. She was the first close relation that I had known to pass away, and thus introduced me to death. Her spirit remained a figure in my life. She is with me.
My grandma, Verna, was really a second mother to me. She left this world tragically as this Summer eclipsed. My memory of her is strong, both from the newness of her passing, and the powerful impression she made on my life. In early childhood my family resided in her home, and I came to know her care and comfort. She was a petite woman, a nurse by trade, and she brought this ethic of care and nurturing to every aspect of her life. In her memory I think of yellow citrine, warm sweaters, and the comforting aroma of dove cooling cream, and fill bodied hugs. Her imprint on me is present in most every moment of my life, from her influence on my spiritually, to how I clothe my person. She is with me.
As Samhain draws near I am comforted in the thought that we are closer to those in their celestial presence. When I am reminded of their memory I will know it is not just from fleeting thought, but from their presence by me.
This Samahain, may you feel the presence of those loved, but gone, brought nearer; spirits of those missed come close, and may you be nurtured and comforted by their memory and presence this day. They are with you.
Blessings on this sacred day of Samhain.
Participating in the BLM vigil in Ellsworth, ME, 10/18/2020
This existence is one,
All is connected,
You, me, creatures, objects, great and small
The beginning and end,
Entwined with us all
Out of the nothing, the something formed,
With innate innocence,
A peaceful being of neutrality,
Uninfluenced by established humanity,
This is the beginning of each little galaxy,
Inside another,
The endless universe,
That composes all,
The value free existence
Neither good nor evil,
Just, just;
This is all,
But then enters complexity,
Of competing beings,
Vying for sustained existence,
In a space of resource finitude,
This is millions upon millions of life forms,
Organic material,
Forces of nature,
Air, water, fire, earth,
Coalescing upon and as a miraculous heavenly body,
In an endless sea of space,
Thus this is home,
We,
We are,
And we are
home.
(Originally posted at https://sheofletters.wordpress.com/2019/12/03/miraculous-a-theology/ )
I wrote this poem in my first year as an Masters of Divinity student, prior to the month of intensive courses in Chicago. I grew throughout the first semester, and the winter break gave me the opportunity to really reflect on this, largely through one of my favorite past times — writing poetry. i posted this on my persona blog, and reflect back on this often. I realize in the poetry I wrote more about my beliefs in the cosmos, and ultimate existence than I had initially thought I did.
Rev. Vanessa Titang 