Children’s story – Wiley and the Hairy Man.

“Anchors Aweigh”

 The write-up about this sermon in the newsletter quoted a character from the novel The Center of Things by Jenny McPhee:  "Among all your possible lives, you have to anchor yourself to one to be able to have the most fun in the others."  I loved this observation, sensing from my own experience that it is probably true.  (Wasn’t it  Emerson who said, “To believe that what is true for you in your private heart is true for all – that is genius.”) I picked up the quotation from a New York Times book review, and wrote it down as something worth musing. I confess to you up front – I have no wisdom to bring from the author – no critique of the novel as I haven’t read it.  But the quote can stand on its own. It’s worth pondering, and it’s my starting point this morning.

 "Among all your possible lives, you have to anchor yourself to one to be able to have the most fun in the others."

 What does it mean to anchor ourselves to one life?  As we live and grow in our lives we are faced with untold numbers of choices and possibilities.   Throughout our lives we make decisions.  What do I want to do when I am an adult? Do I think of myself as a student? Do I want to go to college? What trade will I go into?  Or what college are we going to go to? I think sometimes the most widely talented and gifted among us – those who are gifted in just about everything, have the hardest time settling down in life because they seem to have too many choices.   

 Every choice we make defines us to a degree – but there’s a difference between being defined and anchored. 

 Think of the many ways you are defined – are you a city person or a country person – what you do for a living, do you have hobbies – who do you associate with (I remember a few years ago there were people who were proud to be know as FOB – friends of Bill) are you a sports fan – or a television watcher, a commuter, a lonely person, a spiritual person, a religious person – are you political?  You may be a Swede or an aunt or the breadwinner – are you a traveler or a homebody, a hard worker, or not a hard worker? We can be described in so many ways.

 Now make a mental list  of possible ways in which you can be defined.  I want you to hold that list and set it aside for a moment. Now, let’s create an imaginary person – we’ll call him Sam.  Sam is an insurance salesman, a father of two, divorced, very artistic, lives in the country, loves to garden, sort of sloppy by nature, smokes cigarettes, and donates time and money generously to his church where he is a deacon. All these choices define him.

 Now, if asked casually about himself Sam might identify himself as an insurance salesman who is divorced with two children – and that would be true and no one would question it. Or, he might identify himself as a proud, loving father, a good Catholic and an artist. All equally true.  If you think about it, many possible identities can be described from any list of characteristics and choices. 

 So if we have to anchor ourselves to one life to be able to have the most fun in the others, it may behoove us to take a good look at the pieces that have the best potential for anchoring us – for giving us a firm sense of identity on which we are content to build.

Taking into account the mental list I asked you to think about a moment ago, consider the two or three or four identifying features that do most to establish your inner identity.  

 Today I think we have it harder in some ways, that so many choices are given to us – because with those choices comes so much responsibility for ourselves.  We can refuse to accept who we are because we get so caught up in who we are NOT.   (There is some wisdom in that assurance doled out by that Saturday Night Life character … you’re good enough, you’re smart enough, and, doggone it, people like you!)

  Writer Kent Nerbrun tells of a conversation he had with  a woman while on a train traveling across Canada, She was a musician—a celebrated vio­linist—who, as a child, had performed with major sym­phonies in America and Europe. And yet, in her early twenties she had suddenly abandoned the vio­lin in favor of the viola, a deeper-throated, less-celebrated instrument than the violin, The reper­toire for the solo viola is limited; and the part usually assigned to the viola is far less significant and complex than that created for the violin,

 It seemed an odd decision, so Nerbrun asked why she had turned away from an instrument so favored by composer and re­vered in the orchestra, and turn to so quiet, recessive, and generally overlooked and underappreciated an instrument as the viola?

Her answer was simple and direct.

“I like its voice;’ she said. “It’s more me.”

Maybe you don’t have to accept that promotion or seek the next rung on the ladder if you can live well enough at the level you are at.  There may be other parts of youwaiting to be discovered, valued and nurtured.

I remember my surprise years ago when talking Bruno  with a well-respected old Italian tailor from my hometown. Customers wouldn’t grumble if they’d have to wait awhile until several other jobs were finished. His work was worth waiting for.  I had one extended conversation with Bruno after I had more or less grown up, and he confided in me something I never would have expected - he would rather have gone to college and become an engineer.  I couldn’t picture this possibility because he was the town tailor to the core in my eyes  – he never radiated an ounce dissatisfaction – he was widely respected as a kindly, methodical and skilled craftsman.

He truly accepted his life. And he developed other parts of his being – his kindness, his goodness, his caring for others attracted people to him.  He was a person of personal depth with a well-rounded life.  He was a very good person. 

We human beings are not static – I think it’s fair to say we are always reacting, changing, growing… Naturally there are probably always some changes we’d like to make at any point in our lives. Continuous growth, of course, is a goal – and yet, so is acceptance of ourselves.  We may have had disappointments that have irrevocably altered the course of our lives. Some things are hard to accept. Sometimes we need the support of a therapist or counselor to help us make better choices or to accept what has happened to us that we did not choose.  

But let’s say that you can look at all the major facets that make up your life’s identity – job, spouse, gay or straight - all the major pieces – and you’re okay with it all. Does that mean you’re an anchored person?  If your answer to the question – “Am I having fun yet?” – is yes, then you probably are.

But anchoring, true anchoring, goes a bit deeper than hitching ourselves to the right life pieces as well as accepting what has happened to us that we didn’t choose. We are practical beings and we are psychological beings and we are also spiritual beings.  This is a part that Bruno also seems to have had in place.  What this last dimension, the spiritual, refers to is the moment-to-moment aspect of our lives;  our fun, our happiness and our ability to feel anchored are found here as much as anywhere.

Peter asked the question last week in his sermon, “Why Pray?” Prayer gives us a place to practice gratitude and encourages us to be at once humble about who we are and ambitious about who we would like to be. There are many forms of prayer.  Prayers to help us confront the “hairy man” of misunderstanding, prayers to help us confront the “hairy man” of fear, of hatred.

You may be cringing now, thinking, “Oh, prayer again!”  Peter gave you his prayer background last week. Here’s mine in brief -  As a child at bedtime every night I said the old standard “Now I lay me down to sleep.  My favorite part of that was the ending   God bless….and I would list all my favorite people that day. I’m sure it was a healthy practice but it fell away as soon as I was old enough to go to bed on my own.  And that was it for formal prayer.  I have always required a good deal of solitude to remain as balanced as I like to be.  In recent years I have come to realize that the “thinking”  that I do in that time of solitude is a form of prayer, of trying to get myself in right relation with my world.

Last summer Valerie Fontaine gave me a book entitled Meditation by Eknath Easwaran. I was interested.  I am not the best student of meditation – perhaps I am hopelessly verbal. The attempt to empty of all words thought is difficult and hasn’t proved as rewarding as I would like.   Easawaran advocates something called passage meditation in which a practitioner learns a prayer by heart and then repeats it by from memory, very slowly, over and over again, slowing down the mind for thirty minutes each morning.

Now here’s the thing.  I understood myself to be taking on a form of meditation – not praying. I am uncomfortable with personal prayer. I say this not proudly, but because it just happens to be the case. Esawaran’s approach is very UU-friendly.  He recommends starting with the prayer of Saint Francis but any inspirational prayer from any of the world’s great traditions will do.

So I began, and as I began to work with the prayer of Saint Francis the prayer of Saint Francis began its work on me. The first step, Easawaren advises is to memorize it, and decide what it’s words mean for me.  I say the words slowly intending nothing to intervene.  Thoughts invariably do pop in – but they very often are prompted by the prayer in relation to my life. The beautiful words of are apt to rise up in me, clearing my vision, giving me perspective.   

On some ordinary days I might think of myself as a minister of a small town church, a mother and a wife.  Same home, same wonderful marriage, 27 years – sounds pretty anchored – right?

But if I am late for an appointment or behind in my paperwork, or overreact to some frustration with one of my sons, I can just as easily be a pathetic, unworthy  minister or a failed wife – and/or lousy parent, When I’m angry the words, “let me sow love,” remind me who I want to be.  When my feelings are hurt, the words “Where there is injury, pardon.”  Help me to let go of my hurt. When I’m driving in the car and my son’s choice of music is blaring at top volume, I sometimes retire inwardly to my passage.  The prayer has become a spiritual anchor for me.

Illuminating phrases from it arise in many contexts. This week I was a participant at the monthly RE meeting where Carole LeBlanc, is chair. Before the committee took on an agenda item Carole  thought might be tricky, she took a minute or two to quietly and firmly counsel the group to a place where they could be more productive and more focused by having them appreciate that that other’s concerns and responses toward RE come out of love and concern for the church, the church school and the children we serve. This same theme had been the theme of her words when she lit the chalice. A conversation that could have been bumpy and fraught with misunderstanding went well. I was impressed. Carole, by her leadership,  was teaching a spiritual lesson, in the words of Saint Francis,  “Seek not so much to be understood as to understand.”

Saint Francis helps me to better hear what I am listening to and to better see what I am viewing.

I recommend passage meditation to you. There are other steps to Easawaran’s meditation process which I have not yet begun. I will be formally trained during my sabbatical.  I hope to bring what I learn back to you.

 Prayers are small structures with great capacity to guide the human spirit in times of travail, connections to greater strength than we can muster alone.

Our children’s story today talked about how we confront our fears.  I think we adults fear that we don’t know how to let there be light when there is darkness, when there is despair how to sow hope or when there is sadness to bring joy. There are many ways in which we are still children, still finding our way needing to trust that although we don’t know how it all works. There are many ways for us to confront what we are afraid of. One path open for each of us is to infuse our consciousness with words that inspire, this one time tested spiritual anchor can help you develop the fullness of your days.