Duke Ellington, Billy Strayhorn, Stan Getz

At 6:00 am this morning I knew the temperature outside. Monk Marie was talking. Take two of your fingers and scoop out a large gob of peanut butter. Attach it to the roof of your mouth, add five marbles, and some liquid. Start singing, humming and reciting the alphabet. That is my dog, talking. He does this when it is extremely cold. Cold means, 'I couldn't be happier, lets go.' No gloves this morning. Back to the mittens.

Last semester I had a woman for Pastoral Care. Her name was Becky. I called her 'Chaplain Becky,' or 'Reverend Becky.' I forced myself to title her because I had some confusion and hesitation as to whether what she was saying was true. She was teaching a style I was uncomfortable with. I forced myself to respect her. When I was really forcing myself, I called her, "Professor David," (last name).
There wasn't a class in which she did not say: "Be quiet, sit there, and listen. That is it in a nutshell, (nit-shell), and this is why...

The soul will always present itself for what it is seeking. The soul is doing what it needs to be doing. You don't have to do anything."

Well, Chaplain Becky, this morning I did have to do something. I had to put four layers on top of my pajamas, load, drive and accompany my happy dog while he expressed his soul. But Chaplain, I didn't talk, as per your instructions.

Most people can not believe that I have not had a working radio in my vehicle for most of my life. Lets not even mention cd player or tape player. I completely missed both of these inventions. Since I am driving to school, and sick of my own thoughts, I asked the junk yard in town to find one for my rather aged van. Not completely sure that this could be done, I was more than surprised when they found one and the actual junkyard man came over and installed it. This week I have been listening to the souls of three men. Longing, lost, plaintive, hopeful.
You can't sing along with a horn, to help it along or to distract yourself from the pain expressed. Souls swirled around an interior littered with sticks, blankets, old bones and landed inside of me. Before I say I am thinking of removing the radio, I will say I heard what these men were expressing, and tending to.

Our food co-op is carrying sushi. Packaged in individual trays, there is vegetarian and a broad selection of sea food offered. Meticulously rolled, cut, and arranged, the presentation is a feast for the eyes. Art. I am buying it as a special treat for myself. As I have never heard of a treatment center for sushi addiction, I am being careful to hold myself in check. You can find me down there looking, on the days that I am not buying. Yesterday, as I entered the store, I saw a bundled and small figure bent over a delivery box. I wanted to say something to this person. Busy and hooded, I did not know if this person was a man or a woman. I tapped the shoulder.
He rose quickly to face me. "I just wanted to say how much I am enjoying the sushi. Are you the person that is making it?" Face beaming, the head started bobbing. Immediately the hands went into the prayer position and took to the center of the body. He started bowing. On the move upwards, his face was exposed. Smiling, open, completely without guile, eyes sparkling.
I realized that he did not speak or understand English. There I stood, with his soul. Nothing I would say would matter. I took his hand, and bowed to him.

I was wrong when I thought I felt irritation and frustration with Chaplain Becky. I think what I felt was fear. It is my fear of connecting intimately with the unmasked soul. For in that, I am connected. The broken and solitary cowboy who uses aloneness as the lifestyle, the argument, the defense, and the creed, connected. I am connected to life and love, and that frightens me because of the risk... .of being hurt, disappointed, excluded, diminished, forgotten.

I went with the happy dog. I let the music enter me without turning it off. I took a stranger's hand, and looked into his eyes.

I am very uncomfortable in 'the seminary.'

This is a superfical statement.

What I am really uncomfortable with is opening up.

Being close to another soul.....even my own.

As it is changing the way I haved lived my life.

It is returning me to who I was, a long time ago. And this is frightening me. Being open, accessable, trusting, and hopeful.