Voice Like A Lullaby

“Get away from that door.” My mom had just gotten home from work and walked upstairs.
I ignored her. If she really meant it she would try again.
“I said get away from there. You’re going to disturb her.” She was whispering forcefully.
I tried my luck one more time. I couldn’t look away. What was she doing in there under that sheet? With those beads? That ancient looking book? Is that a compass? Why is she muttering to herself? What is she muttering to herself? She stands up. Arms in the air. Kneels down. Forehead to the ground. Repeat.
“I said go downstairs!” The whisper was gone, her voice clear, her hand on my shoulder physically pulling me away. “Now!”

I saw my grandmother kneel down again, clutching a string of beads, her head to the floor one last time, before I gave in and slunked then trotted downstairs- two steps at a time, straight to the fridge for a banana.
“What is she doing in there?” I asked my mom ingesting half the banana in one bite.
“Do you have to eat like an animal? You’re going to choke.”
Finishing the second half of the banana, I asked, “No really, what is she doing in there?”
“She’s praying,” my mom had shoved me out of the way and was starting to dig in the refrigerator, pulling out an assortment of boxed and sealed left-overs for dinner.
“Praying? What does that mean?” I was perplexed. I had no idea what to do with information that my grandmother who had arrived from Iran late the night before, and was going to stay with us for six months, who I hadn’t seen since I was five, I was seven now, who had brought two massive suitcases that stood full and unopened upstairs, who was my dad’s mom, was upstairs praying.

I had out run my mom from the car earlier to set eyes on Maman Soodie, only to find her in a trance, under a sheet apparently praying.
“Why are you ignoring me?” I needed answers.
My mom was busy pouring an eggplant stew into a pot for warming and setting a pot to boil for rice.
“It means that she is talking to god, by reciting lines from the Koran.”
God? Koran?
“She will do that five times a day when she is here and I need you to not stand at the door gaping at her. It’s a very private act and she doesn’t need you disturbing her.” She started to cut some radishes like flowers and throw them into a blow of cold water to help them open up.
“I wasn’t disturbing her. I was just standing there, quietly watching.” I stole a radish and popped it into my mouth. I love the subtle spice. I stirred the stew and watched a few tiny bubbles begin to pop like a lake of molten lava.
“Can you not argue and just promise me that you won’t bother your grandmother? And go set the table. Your dad will be home soon and I want to eat as soon as he gets here. I am starving.” She handed me a stack of four plates.

Four. Not three, but four. It was so exciting to have an additional member added to our family. It had been just the three of us for so long that having another body in the house was a novelty and a treat. I didn’t know at the time how much I would learn from Maman Soodie and how long those memories would last.

“Jabiz Joon come here and let me hold you. I have missed you so much my heart has been broken.” Her voice sounded like a lullaby I recognized from years ago. She was out from under the sheet and heading toward the kitchen. Her face and her voice came rushing back to me from the time before we left Iran and came to America. From a time where we played together while she watched me when my parents were out. From a time that she was my friend, my story teller, my grandmother.
I ran to her as she sat in a chair at the dining room table. She scooped me up into her lap, hugging me tightly, rocking me back and forth.

She said a bunch of things in Farsi I didn't understand, like I was her liver, but I could feel were affectionate and then she said, “Oh how I have missed you. Tonight I will tell you the story of the Persian Prince Rostam.”
“Can you also tell me what you were saying to god?”
I noticed that she and my mom exchanged a quick look. It was fleeting, but I saw it.
“Let’s start with the fairy tales and move onto god later.”

carry on

carry on

there’s an emptiness that I can’t seem to fill,

these days, I’ve tried everything-

no amount of to-do lists seem to do the trick.

set up a task, accomplish it and move onto the next one.

the songs feel shallow and tepid,

the wine comes close, but that is a cul de sac

i’ve gotten lost in before.

an entire bar of chocolate,

a run.

the guitar chords don’t tingle

and my voice is timid and confused.

the books have lost their magnetic power,

the internet a vapid mirror.

the kids, the wife, can’t seem help pushing them away,

for fear they might fall into the void.

the conversations at work, the students, the plans, the meetings:

i was talking to scott after school today about the injustice of life

especially in its smallest pieces.

it’s easy to see it through rape and genocide,

but we forget to name the evil in the world when it kills

an old lady down a flight of stairs at the end of her

beautiful hard-earned life.

lying in a bed scared and in pain.

waiting for her liquids to evaporate.

we talk of god- a higher power,

i used to believe in Karma, but never again.

i hope that there is not some force that does this to people.

a force that punishes light with pain.

love with fear.

a force that tests our faith through vile acts of violence

on the most vulnerable amongst us

is nothing i want to be near.

if there is a god that behaves in this way

i hope to never encounter him.

There is nothing that can fill this emptiness.

no rhyme or reason.

no faith or evolution.

no meditation or awareness.

each death reminds us that an entire life

can disappear into the darkness without

even a whisper.

leaving behind nothing but the tiniest twinkle.

we pray that this is enough for us to carry on.

I Went To Church Today

I went to church today. Yup. Church. Me. Today.

This is not some allusion or metaphor about me sitting on a beach somewhere lost in my spiritual ramblings. It is actually what it says: I went to church today. Complete with prayers, hands in the air (not my hands, but there were hands in the air) and the ole praise Jesus and a smattering of amens. Before I get into what it was like, let me start with the why. Several people who knew I was planning on going to church today asked me why, and while I tried to think of some reasons on the spot in the social environments where they asked, as you know I am better at articulating ideas in blog form. So why did I go to church today:

Because I want to be the kind of person who says yes to life more often than I say no. I want to say yes when it is easy and fun, but I also need to say yes when it is complicated and uncomfortable. I want to know, see and feel what other people value before I make judgements, and if I am doing it right I hope not to feel the need to judge at all. I want my ideals and values to be rooted in experience and understanding.

I went to church today, because I am curious about other people’s beliefs and how they think and make sense of the world. I spend so much time glibly proselytizing my atheism that I thought it might do me some good to spend some time in a church. While there, I was thinking that maybe I need to go to a Hindu temple or mosque next, so if you want to invite me I am down to go.

I went to church today because someone who listens and interacts with my rambling asked me to come, and I felt I owed him the respect he has shown my ideas. If I am going to be passionate about my values and ideas- art, veganism, peace, music, whatever it is, then I have to respect other people’s passions and give them the benefit of the doubt.

I went to church today because if I claim to be an open minded person then I have to be open minded in action and not just words. I have to listen more than I talk. I have to take-in as much I give away. I have to learn as much as I teach.

So for these reasons and maybe a few more, I went to church today. What was it like?

It was pretty great. It was exciting, musical, artistic, joyful, passionate, warm, welcoming, intimate, communal and honest. I haven’t been church in a long, long time and the times I have been it has never felt like this. I have always felt uncomfortable and bored and disconnected. But not today. I arrived a bit early chatted with some folks about day-to-day things, had some coffee, listened to a few songs and listened to Hamish give a well researched, interesting, and personal sermon about how to read the bible.

This is not a post to argue or debate the merits of his ideas or beliefs, that is what a bottle of wine might be for, but I appreciated his sentiment, his passion and his skill as an orator. I didn’t always agree with what he said and there many times when in my mind I was saying, ‘’but, but, but….what about…..and…..but, but, but.” I let it go and listened with an open mind. It’s amazing what that can do for your intellect as well as your spirit.

At first I spent so much energy pulling away and judging the people as they smiled too wide or praised Jesus too enthusiastically. It didn’t feel real to me. The cynic in me felt they were faking it. I guess because this type of devotion is not real for me, but I tried real hard to just be there in the moment and relate to what was being said without the need to argue all the time, which is what I usually do at religious events.

Before I go on, let me say that I enjoyed my time at Inspire Church. If I wanted a community of Christians to get to know this might be where I would start. If I created a church, this might be what it would look like. If I needed this type of faith, this might be the place where I would look, but honestly I don’t feel I need it.

It was nice to see these people so happy and bonded and worshiping as a family, and although I could appreciate what it was doing for them, I knew as I walked away that Church is not for me. Not because of anything this church itself was doing or not doing, but I guess I just reject the very idea of faith.

I started thinking about this idea of being consumed by god, jesus, faith, grace whatever you want to call it, during one of the first songs. They sang something like Jesus you are my everything and nothing I have is worth anything without you, or something like that. Which got me thinking- what is my everything? Is there one thing that I pour my entire soul into? One place that holds my complete heart and mind? Do I value anything so much that I consume it and allow myself to be consumed by it?

The answer- I hope not.

The world and the pieces of me in it are too rich, too complex to be poured into a vessel as one-sided as a singular faith. How can there only be one god, one faith, one church? I have faith in so many things, so there is no way I ever want to put one name around it all. If I closed my eyes, and raised my hands and praised any one thing, I feel like I would be doing a dis-service to all things. I don't ever want to see the world through one lens, even if that lens is the all-loving Jesus.

Beyond the stories and the bible and the sin and the language of worship and redemption and all of the devil and god and heaven and hell, my understanding from today is that it all boils down to love. The divine whatever it might look like. Compassion. Peace. Empathy. I get all that. I just don’t want to dilute the image through the lens of faith in Jesus. Those ideas of divinity, in my humble opinion, do not need Jesus, a god or a church.

It's a great story, the story of the Israelites and the covenant with God, but just one in a series of others. I can't, I won't reduce the divinity into such a simple cup.

I hope that it is enough that I live a good life. Try my best to be righteous. Understand that I am fallible and broken and wonderful and in pain and full of love without having to brand myself in any one faith. Or in faith at all. There is no one thing that I feel so consumed by.

I loved seeing the people today so happy and comfortable in their faith in Jesus and their approach was refreshing and made me happy too.

But I think I will keep walking down my own road and looking to see what else I can find. I am not sure what that church looks like or if I even need one. I have met many people on this journey and we have shared many stories and songs and our own twisted sermons along the way. These meanderings seem be enough for for me. Today my searching took me into a church, and I am grateful for the hospitality. And honestly, Hamish I look forward to coming back if you will have me, you have a cool thing going.

But for me the end of the journey can never be in any one church, actually for me there is no end to the journey.

More Of A Chant

“If there is a god then he must really hate people.” Kurt Vonnegut


The world is full of thoughts and prayers again tonight. It seems to be the one thing everyone can do after a tragedy- ineffective as thoughts and prayers are in times like these, everyone in the world is quick to send out thoughts and prayers.

Thoughts and prayers. Thoughts and prayers.

As a casual observer and as a person who has never uttered even a single prayer, they seem to me to be quite ineffective in creating peace, establishing justice, closing the widening gap between the haves and the have not or addressing any one of the million issues that are tearing our societies apart. One may even argue that it is the very nature of prayer that is forcing us into these disgusting cases of violence in the first place.

I refuse to send a prayer anywhere in the world tonight. I refuse to pray in any capacity. Ever. I will do my utmost to mediate, to hope for, to look within myself and seek solace, or work with my students or engage my family or talk to as many people as I can, or share my writing or find peace through song…I will do just about anything but pray and contribute to the madness that prayer has wrought on the world. I have no use for a solemn request for help or expression of thanks addressed to God or another deity, because clearly he isn’t listening, or he isn’t there or if he is there and he can hear then WTF?

Enough thoughts and prayers. Some lunatic who thought his prayers would be answered blew himself up killing 70 children so that they couldn’t pray any more. Is this where we are? Thousands of years of evolution? All of our art? Science? All we have become is another suicide religious attack and the rest of us bleating like sheep- thinking and praying.

I am tired of worrying if I will offend religious folk. Here is the deal- I find your religions, all of them, offensive. I find the idea of bombings and death and redemption and sin and sects and intolerance and thinking you have all the answers and that you are right and priests and mosques and thoughts and prayers offensive. You can argue that this is not what religion is all about, but the proof is in the bombings, in the wars, in the persecution, in the racism, in the death and destruction. For those of us standing on the outside, death and destruction is all religion has ever been about. I've seen little else.

Woah. That rant came out of nowhere, but it has been bubbling inside me all day long and I needed it in words and out of me. Ignore if it you must, but I needed to name my anger and frustration.

All I know is that I am thankful that I am able to live in a safe secular society that allows me to raise my kids without the overt violent influence of any religion. I know there are so many people who have been forcefully bound to god for generations…..ahhh….here I go again. Maybe it is time for a new topic.

…

I went for a run today. It has been so long since I ran, that I felt out of practice, tried and sluggish. It was really more of a walk, but it still felt good to be alone for an hour even if I walked for most of the time. My ankles are sore and I realised that things like running must be maintained and there is little room for slacking off.

…

In other news, I will be taking my blessed, gracious, privileged self for a six day beach vacation in Thailand tomorrow, during which time I will enjoy good food and affordable drink. Bonding time with my family, a reconnection to the ocean, and the ever so sweet sensation of toasted salty skin and post shower aloe vera lotion. I will stuff my face with Pad Thai, grilled corn and mango sticky rice as I watch the waves lap up on the beach. It is in those moments of quiet sandy reflection that I have come close to uttering anything resembling a prayer. And usually it is more of a chant that sounds like this…thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Here Is The Gist

I should have known that today was gonna be a big hitter day when it started with Kaia asking, ”What happens when you die? What’s Good Friday? Why don’t you believe in God?”

I gave longer answers than what I’ve added below, but here is the gist:

What happens when you die?
Your body is broken back down into its essential elements, whether through cremation, burial or rot- the energy stored in your cells, that some people might call your soul, is released back into nature where it resurfaces as another form of life or matter. You have always been a part of nature and so you never actually existed, and when you die the body you inhabited simply returns back to the universe.

What’s Good Friday?

I gave a brief history of the Roman empire, the state of the Jews under said empire, spoke of Jesus as spokesmen for the Jews during reign of said empire. Mentioned that they were not too pleased with his help the poor, don’t be rich, love each other spiel so they had him killed. Oh and by the way some people believe that he was the son of God, and did I mentioned that back in those days when they killed people, they nailed people to a cross and so Jesus was nailed to a cross. Some people believe that he was killed for all the things people do wrong on earth.

After he died some people who loved him buried him in a cave and put a giant rock in front of it. Good Friday was the day he was killed. A few days later, on Sunday- Easter, he left the cave and returned to heaven.

Why don’t you believe in God?
I find the stories that people tell about God to be too simple, and I prefer to believe in science and nature and wonder. Also, I don’t like the fact that many of the stories say that we are made in his image, did I mention I don’t like that A.) he has a gender and B.) he is a man. I also am not a big fan of the idea that we are somehow different than the rest of nature and that we are meant to have dominion over the earth.

I do love the stories about Jesus being loving and kind and forgiving and non-violent, but I don’t need to believe in a god who punishes people to believe in love.

The questions ended. We finished breakfast and made our way to school.

…

Just got back from a mid-week movie, which is always a good idea. Saw Sisters, it just came out here, and it was crass and funny and over the top. Great way to laugh off a long day.

Created a first draft video for Learning 2.0 and it was so bad, I could barely watch it. I showed it to Paula and she looked confused. Back to the drawing board and a second draft tomorrow.

…

Rob Ford is dead.
Brussels is under attack.
The candidates are frothing at the mouth
and the world just got one shade darker.
again.

Too Small

I woke up to the sound of birds outside my window. It was almost 6am and I was tired, but could feel that I would not fall back asleep. I tossed and turned a bit, but eventually decided to get up for a run. Strapped on my shoes and made my way out into the crisp pre-dawn darkness.

Out of the Daraja gates, I made my way toward Ol Giri Giri a tiny village a kilometre up the road. The landscape was littered with acacias and cactus, but the soil, even in the darkness, emitted a maternal warmth. The paprika coloured ground was vibrant beneath each step. Slowly, as I made my way up and down the gentling sloping hills, the sun began to make her presence known and my body temperature heated up.

I couldn’t believe it. Where I was. Who I have become. What I was doing. The only sounds: the cooing of some scattered birds. My footsteps one after the other. The day beginning. I didn’t see a soul on the entire run. Six kilometres, alone except for Rasta the dog, who was sprinting back and forth, I ran and let my thoughts cascade out of my mind, forming into tiny dropplets of sweat. My muscles important and alive. 

….

Life is painful. And to be strong might mean the ability to face our weakness and continue to move forward. We sat on the porch in the darkness. Two old friends-brothers, talking about the pain that comes from trying to save the world, right ever injustice. He told me stories about the selection process and the emotional toll of choosing how to save a life. “How do say no?” He kept asking me as if I had the answer. We sat in silence. My thoughts, one after the other, charging onto dead ends. The world might be too big and too damaged to save all at once. But we do what we can in the places in which we inhabit. It seemed too simple and obvious, so cliche that it rendered the simplest solution a moot point out, so we stared off into the night. The tears welled up in our eyes, unaware of the work that was happening down the hill in the classrooms and dormitory rooms so close to us that we could touch them.

…

During spiritual time, I sat with five Kenyan girls and asked them about their beliefs and the Seventh Day Adventist. They asked me about my beliefs and I told them I love Jesus, but couldn’t understand the god of the bible. I mentioned that he seemed too small to me. We sat under a tree alone-together with our thoughts.


Later I watched one of the most awkward and shiest kids I have ever taught, stand in front of twenty-five strangers and lead them in a hymn; he played an electronic key-board. Maybe this god wasn’t so small after all, I thought. The girls sang along knowing each verse and joining him in the chorus.

I think sometimes we complicated things a bit. Maybe the world is too big and our gods too small, but our actions, however small, have to matter for something. Maybe the solutions are that obvious- bring people together and let them eat together and sing songs together and talk about their beliefs. Maybe we just have to…
…

It was a long hard emotional day. And it is late now and dark and quiet again. The words forming and the ideas behind begin to fade- unsure if they make sense or will connect to anyone but me and this blank screen. But without them, the thoughts become too heavy and the world too big.