Well, I’m furious.  How dare another person full of hate and fear – propagated by ancient fundamentalist patriarchal religious dogma, in this case ISIS – murder our people?  Yes, “our people.”  Yours, mine, ours.  The people in that night club in Orlando, Pulse, belong to all of us. 

How dare Omar Mateen kill our people?  If you do not think of gay people as your people, you may want to reconsider.  About one out of 20 humans is born gay or bisexual or transgender, so every single human on the planet has a “gay” relative somewhere in the family.  If your person hasn’t come out to you, then you might want to look at that.  There’s a reason they are afraid to.

I am feeling afraid today.  That was, of course, part of the motivation for this kind of hate crime.  Just as when any man rapes any woman (not the only but certainly the most common form of sexual violence), it sends a ripple of fear into every woman.  Just as any act of racism against an individual confirms fear in people who are part of that population.   Consciously or unconsciously, we all become a little afraid again, reminded again that we need to be cautious, to somehow try to take the responsibility to prevent something bad from happening to us. To somehow magically make a hater not hate us.

Any event of violence of any kind enforces that we are not truly free.   And so it is with this crime against people in the gay club in Orlando.  All of us who might have been in that club or at some other gay club on in some gay Pride parade at any time, ever, this weekend or any other time in the past or future, now feel more fearful.  Again. 

This time is full of grief and anger, all mixed together.  I know better than to despair.  There is no point in that when I know that when things feel really bad, they are – to our human selves.  Things feel very bad, and horrible and frightening and disgusting.  Terrifying.  “Atrocious,” as my mother said.

And, as always, we have a choice to make.  Fear causes contraction.  The other choice is expansion.   The other side of fear is freedom and peace.

Souls do not despair.  Souls expand. 

Let us chose to expand at this time:  to literally breathe deeply and expand our hearts again, to send love to the families and friends of those affected by the Orlando massacre, and to connect with our own loving Souls on behalf of expanding freedom and peace on this planet.  I’m going to meditate on freedom and peace replacing fear.

And while we’re at it, let us also expand our automatic rifle gun control laws.

P.S.  Good stuff happens in Orlando, too.  Here are the winners of the recent 2016 National Pie Championships:  http://www.piecouncil.org/2016APCChampionshipWinners

Things don’t always go as planned, right?  Normally, when we have visitors I make them a pie.  Not this time.

I meant to make our recent guests a pie.  They arrived from Australia with the intention of visiting here in Albuquerque, then seeing more friends in Denver and Portland, finishing up in San Francisco before flying home again from Los Angeles.  Nice trip!  It was their first visit here and I was ready to show them around New Mexico, wine and dine them a bit, even serving up a “blue ribbon” pie.

As things unfolded, I was made aware again that we aren’t in charge of much and that it’s good to allow for mystery. [More than the mystery of how to succeed with meringue!]  The usual jet lag and dehydration seemed to take their toll on our gentleman friend, and his wife and Havens and I thought he’d recover after a good night’s sleep and plenty of water.  Instead, his health continued to fade.

Of course our attention turned to his care.  Plans for touring were cancelled, meals were had quietly, the great scotch we’d intended to share over laughs was shelved, and concern grew.  Eventually he ended up in the hospital, then hospice.  He died there are few days ago.

I share this with you because it has been a wonderful experience.  That may sound surprising, and it is even to me.  The truth is, we have found a sense of wonder and peacefulness about this process, as challenging as it has been.  It has allowed us to give from the heart, to stay in the present, to “hold space for what is,” and to expand with a sense of knowing that, somehow, everything was turning out as it was meant to.  We have embraced the mystery and found love everywhere we looked.

There’s a sweetness to this that goes way beyond pie. 

Blessings and love, Rebecca

School has started here in the Southwest.  Busses are plodding along full of children, parents are arranging their lives to accommodate school schedules, and teachers are facing a new year with this crop of kids and youth.

When I was young, still in elementary school, 11 perhaps, my maternal grandmother, Alice, came to live with us.  She had been widowed the year before, after 42 years as a farm wife in the countryside of North Dakota.  A woman of modesty and humor, she was married to the northern prairie and survived those years of plucking chickens, hot winds, feeding farm hands, growing most of the family’s food, and blizzards with grit and fortitude, as farming and ranching folks often do. 

After the farm sold at auction, she began a new chapter of her life.  Finally she was free to be her lively, travel-loving, urban self.  As a young woman she had traveled from North Dakota to exotic places like Lake Louise in British Columbia, and then worked far from home in Seattle.  She thrived in the energy of the city and only left when she was called home because of a dear cousin’s death. 

Marrying Adolph, the farmer who promised they’d move to town one day, she acclimated to life on the farm but never really liked it.  Like many women, she made the best of things and raised her children with love and attention -- and one eye on the horizon!

When she came to live with our family near Los Angeles, we just scooted over and made room, making her welcome.  She, in turn, looked for how to love us back.  And gosh, did she find ways!  One of them was baking.  You know where this is going.

Grandma Alice timed the cinnamon buns, the homemade dinner rolls and the cookies to be coming out of the oven as we were arriving home from school.  And then there was the bread, still warm, sliced and blanketed with butter.  We could smell the aroma from outside the house, dropping book bags at the door and running to the kitchen. 

Now, years later, I realize why I’m always drawn to bakeries and baked goods.  It’s not the sweets that draw me in, really.  It’s the unconditional love wafting on the aroma.  I don’t even have to buy anything.  The scent alone is enough to make me smile and say, “Thanks, Grandma!  I love you, too.”

So, friends, what aroma or scent reminds you of unconditional love?  Last night friends shared their versions:  the smell of rain, the smell of warm biscuits baked by a grandmother, a mother’s favorite blue soap.  And you? 

Tipping Point Season?

It feels like a tipping point:  either we choose love now, being one humanity on the same globe, or we rip it all apart in fear and greed and a willing denial.

It is December 2012, and the world is in a pretty big mess:  Global warming, wars, hunger and need, tensions among people every which way.  And at the same time, people are envisioning change, intentionally creating a more global consciousness and connectedness. 

As people approach the holiday season – solstice, Hanukkah, Christmas, Kwanza and other celebrations – it feels different this year.  Yes, there are tremendous social and economic pressures to buy things and to spend money (especially in our American culture), to be consumers above all else.  And yet, there is also a sense of calm and peace that seems to be emerging -- some kind of quiet, like a soft down comforter or a gentle tropical breeze enveloping the atmosphere around the globe.

People are taking time to see each other, to acknowledge that we are here together, that this is a sacred place and a special time on this planet. 

Whether we buy boots for a person living on the street, like the police officer in New York City did, or take homemade cookies to someone who lost a special person in their life this year, or adopt a family to share our blessings with, I hope all of us find a way to celebrate connection this year.  As we do, we will, indeed, bring peace on Earth.

Blessings of the season to all of us, Rebecca

P.S.  Homemade pie is one of the really good ways to bring people together!

“God is good,” said the rabbi, the priest and the minister.  No, not the opening line of a joke.  That’s really what they said last night.

The three spiritual leaders all said the same thing, adding, “And we give thanks.” 

And so it is.  With a prayer sung for peace by the rabbi, with an African folk song sung by the Catholic high school choir, and with a story from the retired Presbyterian minister, the shared energy was about being grateful to be spiritual beings having a human experience, where there is a Divine presence always with us…and to be grateful for that.

There are awful things in life.  There are many people suffering, many beings suffering.  Did you know that right now, there are bombs going off in the Middle East and dolphins are being shot in the Pacific Ocean off the coast of North America? People in the NE part of the US are still trying to get their lives together after the devastation of superstorm Sandy.  No one is denying there is suffering. 

So, let us be grateful, very grateful.  If you are reading this, you are one of the lucky ones.  You are one of the ones with abundance. 

The offering last night was taken up on behalf of the local homeless shelter [I’m visiting in the San Fernando Valley].  The director said that there are 60,000 homeless people in the Los Angeles area, that it’s the “homeless capital of America.”  There are people experiencing homelessness in every city in America, though, and we love those people.  We who are capable of love without separation or judgment, who see ourselves in the eyes of everyone around us, know that we are connected. 

Please, in gratitude for our connectedness, if you can, share with those who have less, those who will see the love in your eyes and remember hope. 

Blessings to all, Rebecca

Tell us in 25 words or less one of the things that you just love about pie.  Poetry is welcome if you feel inspired!  We're looking for heartfelt, funny, unique or crazy reasons to love pie.  Winner will get have their "Why Pie?" entry posted here and will receive a sweet "Pie Pals" refrigerator magnet.  Deadline:  November 30, 2012.