On Prayer

I haven't spoken to God in three years.  I woke up one morning, after the second miscarriage, when Damon's clients weren't paying him and Ryan's school wasn't helping her, on a cold, rainy summer day in Germany, and didn't believe in him anymore.

What a relief.

I'd been doing my best, guided by some Christian friends, Mormon and Catholic alike, to pray my way out of the misery I was in.

I was a dutiful wife and mother.  (Or doing my best anyway.)  I was obeying the rules, staying at home, cooking for the kids, taking them out to the park instead of sitting in front of the TV, paying attention to them, doing homework, staying fit, eating healthy, not drinking alcohol...I was being GOOD and doing everything I should be doing in order to get what I wanted.

Because this was prayer, right?   I do the right thing and I get what I want.  I behave and my prayers are answered.  I work to earn the reward from that guy sitting up above looking down and judging me.

What an asshole!  Either that guy up above, for not listening and giving me what I'd been working so hard to earn.  Or me, for bartering, for superstition, for basically very pagan beliefs about a personal god who takes a personal interest and manipulates my life based on my bartering and prayer.

It was so much easier to give him up.

Since then I have been reading the Tao, studying some Hindu and Buddhist books and doing yoga.  I am working on finding balance, on harmony, on staying in tune with the universe.  I strive for detachment and acceptance instead of a need to control and know everything.  I try to recognise the common universal oneness in everything.

This is working a lot better for me than bargaining with some crabby old man who wasn't listening to me anyway.

I still get annoyed though, that prayer seems to work for other people.  What the heck do I do wrong?
So that when Tracey told me last week that she thought her husband's business was starting to pick up because of her prayers, I had to talk to her about it.  (@&#^ Christians!)

It came up three more times with three other people last week. 

And then I started seeing signs and getting superstitious again.

I slowed down.  I waited.  I didn't do anything.  I just let it all be.

And the answer hit me - in a ray of sunshine on Friday afternoon while talking to Darla at school pickup - that the secret to prayer was in giving up the control and leaving it to whatever higher power you are praying to, meditating on, communing with.

Let me be the first to say that I think this sucks.

I find this whole "you don't always get the answer you are looking for, God gives you what you need not always what you want" business a real rip-off.  I'm not asking for what I NEED, I'm asking for what I WANT!   Why bother if I'm not going to get what I want?  What a crock of #@(#*!

Speaking to Tracey - whose business is doing well where Damon's wasn't - made me realise that if I HAD gotten what I asked God for back in Germany - another baby, more money, our own house, Ryan's success at school, health insurance we could afford, sunshine, warmth and summer more than 3 days a year - then we never would have come to Australia.

Oh. 

It's like asking for a poster of Zac Efron for Christmas and having him fly in to spend the week with you and your family instead.

God gave me Australia.

I'd thank him but I'm still not speaking to him and I'll tell you why.

That ray of sunshine that filled me with warmth - God's grace even if you are Christian - filled me with the realisation that I have to give up control and accept whatever God, or the Universe, throws my way.  I have to detach myself from needs and desires and outcomes and accept how it already is and will be.

I can't go back to praying to some old dude, hoping he will give me what I want.

Prayer isn't about getting what you want.  It is about accepting what you have.

And I still think this sucks.

If there is some god up there I really think he should buck up, get with the program and start running things properly for a change.

Maybe get his wife to do it for him; that might work.

My old beliefs in God, in one god, were more pagan than Christian.  My Taoism - even though I have yet to go to a temple - are closer to what I think Christians call God - than my old belief in God ever was.

I am striving to accept what the universe throws my way.  I am seeking balance and peace, basic kindness, simple happiness, detachment and acceptance.

Call it what you like; I think Jesus would have been cool with it.

And don't get me wrong.  I still suck at this.

But I think I might be beginning to grasp at least the beginnings of it just a little itty bitty bit.

And I don't think God would mind if I thought of him as something else, in a way that has me accepting instead of bartering, in a way that helps me pray my new way and allows me to let his grace in. 

Maybe He did send me answers last week. 

But going back to our old relationship isn't going to help either of us.

I'd like to think He's big enough to accept this new one.

(Although if you are listening, God, a little extra cash never hurt!)

Om mane padme om.  Namaste.  And Amen!

Medieval Fest Aussie-Style

When the Aussies get a hold of something, no matter how traditional, they tend to make it their own.

It's no different with the Abbey Medieval Festival.

The sun is shining, the sky is blue, the atmosphere is warm and friendly; none of this dark and gloomy middle age realism for us.  (The pouring rain and mud on the first daythis year  DID lend an air of authenticity to the proceedings - oh look, just like Germany, we said! - but the day wasn't any better for it.)

The first thing I noticed was the audience at the joust.  In the USA, you get teams going, you cheer for YOUR knight, you loudly BOO the opposing knight.  There are clear sides, theirs and ours, winners and losers, friends and enemies.  All in good fun of course.  But you do pick a side.

The Europeans give it a go but they are pretty embarrassed about the whole thing.  So that you have some poor fools - really, you can call them that at a medieval festival! - trying to rally up a crowd that just doesn't have it in them.  A few-half-hearted cheers.  From the beer drinkers.  But mostly polite silence.

The Aussies, well they'll give the American a run for their money on enthusiasm, but their hearts just aren't in the competition.  Whoever heard of a crowd cheering for BOTH knights?!

"Ya gave it a go, mate!"   This an unhorsed knight.

I gotta love 'em.

Fencing with laughter, tourneys where the injured help one another up, friendly rivalries between monarchies, knights taking time to play with the kids...joking and smiling, a less medieval crowd I've never met, but a most chivalrous one.

This year's wonder was the churro line.  Really.  Pouring rain on the afternoon of the first day.  A churro line about half an hour long.  (And this is REALLY long in sparsely populated Oz, let me tell you!)  Actually, what we thought was TWO churro lines.  Because some REALLY REALLY REALLY LARGE, unhappy, nasty person stood near the front and neglected to tell those of us behind her (him?) that he/she wasn't in line.  So that after twenty minutes we realize there is no line. 

I look over to the REAL line, look back at the line of about fifteen people behind ME in the fat lady/person's line, and tell them that there's been a mistake.  Sorry, mates, the wait is actually twice as long as you thought it was.  We're going to have to merge the lines.

I'm not sure what would happen in the US anymore.  Really no clue.  But I know there would be fighting and bitterness in Germany.  Although, granted, there would have been fighting and bitterness anyway since Germans don't stand in lines and would have been pushing and crowding eachother from the get-go.  Germany isn't all bad.  It's not, really.  And there are good people there.

But the Germans do NOT stand in line and they certainly don't watch out to make sure others have a fair go.

The Aussies sighed a bit, looked around and then calmly melded into one line. 

The girls ahead of me told me that actually I should be in front of them.

Everyone knew - and you can't tell me the Germans don't, they do -  where they were in relation to everyone else. 

And everyone fairly waited their turn without complaint.

And that's what works here - medieval fest or not - this sense of fairness and watching out for one another. 

Sure, you've got some assholes.  Take fat lady/man nasty person who delighted in telling me that there was no line behind his/her fat arse...but only after we had been there twenty minutes. 

But for the most part everyone treats eachother fairly.

And this works.

The Aussies have no idea how lucky they are.  They haven't had to push through the crowds at the Bronx Zoo or the Stuttgart Zoo or fight to get on a bus in Haiti or India or Africa. 

They melded into one line.

Into one line.

Fairly.

Aussies give me hope.

And make for the most awesome medieval fest anywhere in the world!

Who's Leading Who?! (Ryan)

Ryan and I spent a large part of the Abbey Medieval Fest last weekend with a group of women representing the Shuvani Romani, an ancient order of wise gypsy women.  We watched a real gypsy wedding (while I sat cross-legged in the hay breastfeeding Ian...so cool!).  We got our first henna tattoos together.  And we danced - twice - in the circle dance.  That it rained just after the dancing began - twice - made it a bit messy but also very earthy!

(Apparently we- and Aidan and Matthew this time around - also danced around some famous Australian TV personality.  We had no idea.   I am proud to say we hardly ever watch TV.  There WAS a huge camera following him around - we were dancing directly behind it.  But he was dressed as a medieval nobleman so I assumed it had something to do with the festival.  Watch out for us on Bondi Vet perhaps...it could have been him...you wouldn't be able to see us behind the camera but you might spot Damon with a heap of churros!)


Circle dances are found in just about every culture.  They represent the circle that is life.  The person in front of you is someone you are following, someone ahead of you in life's path, someone you are learning from.  The person behind you is someone you are leading.   And we all dance round and round.

Sometimes I wonder who is learning from who though. 

This, a poem from my beautiful daughter Ryan.  Who says it so much better than I ever could.
(Thanks to her teacher, Mrs MacKenzie, a writer and creative spirit herself.  And to Melinda and Kylie who teach the principles of kindness to others as well as resilience and respect for yourself.)

FRIENDSHIP LASTS FOREVER

Friendship lasts forever doesn't matter how far.

When people bother you just stand strong and proud.

Even if it's your best friend

If there's something you don't want to do

Just stay who you are.

Chorus:  Friendship lasts forever doesn't matter how far.  (4X)

Don't fall into a trap.

If you get pushed down don't stay down,

Get back up!

If your best friend pushes you down

They must not be your true friend because

Friends are like family

Not a bad bully.

Chorus (8X)

Friendship lasts forever.  Stay who you are!

I have to admire a girl who has already figured out what it takes most of us a lifetime to learn.

Namaste Ryan.  I can't wait to see what I learn from you next year!



Abbey Medieval Festival: Part One, The Others!

We've been here long enough to establish traditions now. 

And long enough to stop seeing things through a stranger's eyes.

The Watoto Children's Choir has been to Tracey and Neil's church twice since we've been here.  Last year was the first time I had heard the Christian viewpoint of one truth, one way, only through Jesus, in English in quite a few years.  I found it profoundly disturbing.  Although, the choir, from Uganda, was amazing.

This year I felt the universal consciousness within the Christian viewpoint. 

This weekend we are at the Abbey Tournament, the largest medieval festival in the southern hemisphere.  (You learn - that since the rest of the southern hemisphere is Africa and South America - this means that it is bigger than the one in Sydney!)

It's been a full year then since I've wanted to share my impression of medieval festivals on three continents. 

The Americans, as usual, go all out.  The venue is acres, the time frame is months, the entertainers are semi-professionals touring all year.  There are elephant rides and jousts where the audience ranges in the thousands.  It is magic and fairies as well as lords and ladies.  Plus a few Jedis who always manage to go where the alternative gather.  Food and drink everywhere.  And, of course, shopping shopping shopping.  The stalls look like Macy's would have looked like in the 15th century.  The finery is finished.  The extras extravagant.

It is fun and fantasy; an immersion in another reality.

The tournament in France, in comparison, was on a huge empty field.  The paths were mostly empty.  Noone was dressed up.  The joust took place on a field.  Everyone just gathered round to watch.  They didn't charge extra admission to the joust and there were no stalls to buy finery or accoutrements like wooden swords or fairy costumes.   There was LOTS of food and beer though.  And the muddy paths were realistic.

What sticks out in my mind ten years later is the real live bear act - a bit disturbing, but again, appropriate to the times - and the photo we have of baby Andrew drinking beer.  Huge European mug.  Tiny three month old baby.

Once again, I have to adore the French!

German medieval fests take place in medieval towns.  In the cold and in the rain.  The narrow cobblestone streets are crowded with people who WILL run your children over if they stop.  It is dark and grey - the mood and the weather. 

Esslingen's annual Medieval Christmas Market features candle making and axe throwing for the kiddies.  (This is considered child friendly!)  But there are also plenty of Christmas stalls and hot mulled cider - Gluehwein - whic tends to take the edge off being pressed in asses to elbows (copyright, Jay)  with a bunch of strangers who would rather spit on you than look at you even as you share virtually the same pavement space. 

Horb's event features steep one lane paths filled with people unwilling to help you push the twin stroller up the hill, but who will stop and talk to one another about the spectacle of you trying to do it on your own with two other small children straggling behind.

We spent one cold winter night around the fires lit in the courtyards of an authentic 13th century abbey outside of Tuebingen.  Uh yeah, it was REALLY cool.

Tuebingen's Chocolate Festival might not have been medieval but it was under the castle and within the courtyard surrounded by houses dating from the period.  And the chocolate was good. 

It wasn't all fun, a return to a previous reality even harsher than the current one, more authentic reenactment than flight of fancy, but it was people at least attempting to escape the everyday and enter the realms of fantasy.

In any country, a medieval fest brings out the alternative crowds,  a looser, more relaxed cadre of lords and ladies, serving wenches and errant knights.  Plus at least one Jedi.

And hey, the Gluehwein is good.  Ask for the Gluehwein.

Why There Is War

Oh.  

I have been doing a lot of yoga lately.

Om mane padme hum.   (Be the lotus!)

I was so mellow in the midst of an evening meal with 8 kids and 6 adults this past Friday after my yoga class that I MUST be getting somewhere on the inner peace and balance, right?

So why am I still in the middle of childish slights and petty turmoil?

Because I chose to be.

And why do they exist?

Because there is no growth without struggle.

Oh.

Inner peace is the RESULT of inner struggle. 

Personal growth comes from personal questioning.

So, Lori, there's my answer.

It's not about Krishna and being the arrow but not the archer.

We have war so that we can choose not to have war.

We have war to teach us peace.

We struggle so that we find balance.

It still sucks, just about as much as this rapidly typed blog, but I wanted to share the answer with you as soon as I got it.

Once again, it would be very profound, if it hadn't already been written down thousands of years ago.

Om.  

Sophia's Spider

Christine M. Steinmann                             about 500 words

Strathpine, Queensland 4500

Home Phone

Mobile

christinesteinmann@yahoo.com

SOPHIA'S SPIDER

by Christine M. Steinmann

Sophia didn't want to go to bed. Sophia wasn't tired.

“Sophia, dear. Time for bed,” said her mother. Her mother sounded tired.

Sophia went upstairs to her room. She put on her favourite pink pyjamas. She brushed her teeth and washed her face. Then she called to her mother.

“Mum,” she said, “I'm not tired.”

“Get to bed, sweetheart,” said her mother, “I'll be right there to tuck you in.”

Sophia went back to her room. She turned down her favourite rainbow unicorn sheets and went to turn on her night light.

That's when she saw the spider. It was staring at her.

Sophia didn't like spiders. Sophia was afraid of spiders.

“Mum,” shouted Sophia, “there's a spider in my room.”

“I'll be right there, darling,” said her mother, “Get into bed.”

Sophia eyed the spider. The spider eyed her right back.

“But Mum,” said Sophia, “there's a spider in my room.”

“Sophia,” said her mother. She was starting to sound angry.

Sophia walked backwards towards her bed, keeping her eye on the spider. The spider stared right back. Sophia crawled carefully under the covers, still keeping her eye on the spider.

And then...the spider winked at her!

“Mum,” said Sophia, “I'm scared of the spider.”

“Sophia,” said her mother. “I'm sure it won't hurt you. It's just a little spider. I'll be right there. Now be a dear and go to bed.”

Sophia looked at the spider. It appeared to be growing. And it was crawling right towards her!

“Mum,” said Sophia.

“Sophia,” said her mum.

The spider came closer. And closer. And closer.

The spider opened its jaws!

“Hello Sophia,” said the spider.

“Hhhellllooo ssspppider,” said Sophia.

She was still a little scared but she was curious too. She had never spoken to a spider before.

“I'm not tired,” said the spider.

“I'm not tired either,” said Sophia.

“Would you like to play?” asked the spider.

Sophia thought a moment.

“Sure,” she said, “but we'll have to be quiet. My mother is just down the stairs.”

“Sophia,” said her mother, “I hope that you're in bed.”

Sophia giggled. The spider giggled too. They played 'Ropes and Ladders' under the covers with Sophia's princess torch. They read 'Charlotte's Web.' They made believe they were camping in the bush under a tent until they both got sleepy.

“Spider,” said Sophia, “I am sleepy now. Would you like to sleep with me on my rainbow unicorn pillow?”

“I will rest here with you until your mother comes,” said the spider, “then I will go back to my home in the corner.”

“Will I see you tomorrow, spider?” asked Sophia. She wasn't at all afraid any more.

“I'll see you tomorrow,” said the spider.

“Good night, spider,” said Sophia.

“Good night, Sophia,” said the spider.

“Sweet dreams, my love,” said Sophia's mother when she came upstairs to tuck Sophia in.

“I guess that spider wasn't such a problem after all.”

END

From Fountain Pens to Facebook

Two years ago my daughter was writing with a fountain pen and learning geography from a pull-down map attached to a blackboard.

Now she is preparing audio visual presentations on a computer and learning current events from an interactive smartboard attached to the internet.

That, Germany, is why you are falling behind on the international scores.  

Australian children also manage to survive a six hour school day without having to be sent home at noon for a warm lunch.  But wait...before I get going on interschool sports teams and learning to work in a group......

Let me get back to the Fueller.  Yes, German children still need to learn to write with a fountain pen.  Even though the only people that still use them now reside in nursing homes.

Either the fountain pen industry is keeping more of the European economy afloat then we think, or the German government is using tradition as an excuse not to invest in modern computer equipment for its children.

Might be they only save the good stuff for the smart kids that make the cut when they are ten.  But our school in Altdorf had approximately TWENTY computers for a school of four hundred kids.

This is one of the leading economies in Europe, the country of engineers, Mercedes, BMW and Bosch.  It baffles the mind.

Maybe it's the hand-eye coordination they get from using a fountain pen.

On the other hand, I am quite old-fashioned when it comes to planning and preparing assignments.  Maybe it was just my corner of the globe - NYC - or maybe it was the age before mobile phones and texting and facebook made advance planning obsolete.  (How did we ever manage to arrange playdates at the zoo before mobiles and texting?  Uh...we arranged a time to meet at a certain location ahead of time and we stuck to it.  Oh.  What an odd concept now a days.)

But all I heard from 5th grade onward was that a deadline was a deadline; that we had had three weeks to prepare the presentation and that being sick the night before wasn't really a valid excuse because we shouldn't have been saving it for the night before in the first place.

This advice seems to be as outdated now as the fountain pen.

There is no planning.   Assignments are changed at the last minute so that kids who have actually worked on them ahead of time are punished by having to do them again.   Deadlines change, some are moved forward unexpectedly.  Others end up not really being due on the day kids bring them in.

Teachers are astounded that I am trying to coordinate the assignments a week ahead of time. 

Because we have five children, three soccer teams, and horseback riding.  Because we like to read out loud as a family in the evening and play board games as a family.  Because we like to keep our weekends open to relax and reward ourselves for our hard effort during the week.  Because we like to have fun and because we don't want school to dominate over family.

Because I can only get all of this done by coordinating and planning ahead.

How do you do it, they ask.

I plan ahead. 

The amazing thing to me is that things actually DO get done here, last minute, and done very well.  Noone seems to have a problem pitching in at the last minute.  It seems to be expected that it will be done the night before or the morning of.  Which actually works if you are also procrastinating on the other things that are on your list and saving all of those for the last minute as well.

All of which has taught me to remain flexible within my scheduling.  But also to say no when asked the night before if I am available.  I WAS available a month ago when I asked if you needed the help; but no, since you told me not to worry about it then, I am now not available for tomorrow.

I wonder if this is just an Aussie thing; or even just a Queensland thing.

I wonder how things work in Sydney or even in Brisbane.

I wonder if NYC is now running that way as well.

But somehow I doubt it.  And I do worry that my children are not learning a valuable life skill that is still in demand in other, less relaxed, areas of the world.

You get it done.  You start early and finish with time to spare.  You do not wait until the last minute because there are no excuses in the boardroom if you had the sniffles the night before and couldn't finish the presentation. 

On the other hand, Aussie good nature might buy them some leeway in the boardroom.

And if all else fails, at least they can write with a fountain pen!!!