May 2009

Generally, this column is oriented toward children, but, of course, religious education is for adults too. One of the many ways that the CLF fosters continuing religious growth is through our Shared Interest Groups, email lists for CLFers who share a common interest, theology or life experience. This month we’d like to share with you two posts written by CLFer Alma Hatzenbuhler to our Religious Naturalist Shared Interest Group.

Hi everyone,

There is a mountain called Eboshi-dake here in Sasebo, Japan. It overlooks the harbor on one side and overlooks the northern end of Sasebo on the other. Near the top, there is a long set of stairs that leads to a shrine nestled among dark boulders that jut out of the ground among many deciduous trees at the peak of the mountain. I like to go there to meditate. I can never get enough of the view. Somehow, the sea and the clouds often create a misty white sky that makes the sun look red at dawn and at sunset. Today was one of many misty white days and it was full of fast moving stratocumulus clouds, so today especially, the view from the top of Eboshi was spectacular. The mist created a haze in the distance but the sunlight illuminated the mist, so the sky glowed for thousands of feet into the air and in all directions. From the top of Eboshi-dake, it seemed like I was in a bright white glowing globe. A multitude of soft white sunbeams shot between the clouds onto the deep gray surface of the sea and into the thick green trees that cover almost all the mountains on Kyushu. Because the clouds were moving by quickly, the sunbeams danced along their edges. The clouds were soft white, gray, blue, and purple, and their swift movement made them rapidly change in brightness and hue. I was wearing black clothing and I sat on a dark rock, so the sun warmed everything surrounding me. I melted into the Earth and the sky for a while. There are times when the warmth of the sun on my face is a gift from heaven. I don't know if there is a meditative state that is gratitude and appreciation, and I don't believe in a traditional God, but I do believe in communion, even though I have never experienced communion in the church sense. But I experienced communion today. I have heard that communion is a sacred joining or togetherness, but I think it is also grace— the grace of the Earth and the air and the sun—the grace that taps into me and elicits my gratitude and awe. There are so very many beautiful places on this planet. It is comforting to know that no matter where I happen to be, the kind of beauty I found today is near at hand. May the beauty of the place where you live reach into your life today.

Hi everyone,

When I took my class to the playground today, sea hawks were circling in the air by the dozen. What a beautiful sight. It was easy to imagine that they were studying us, wondering what in the world we were doing as my exuberant kids scampered all about me. Even more than the sea hawks, I often feel as though the ravens study us. They call to each other over our heads and it seems like they are sharing some private joke at our expense.

I went to Eboshi-dake on New Year's Day. It was a different sort of experience. Since it was an important Japanese holiday, Eboshi was crowded with families. People took their children up there to fly kites even though the ground had a light cover of snow. It was a pleasure to watch the many Japanese families with their children—the parents are so lovingly involved. The moms were out there walking delicately in their pretty dresses and high heels and the dads running with their children and laughing about their games.

I had a delightful conversation with a Japanese lady at the top of the mountain. In Japanese, I tried to tell her that I am from South Dakota, a place that grows a lot of corn, and that made her think that South Dakota is in Canada. So I brought up Mt. Rushmore, which I lived near, and now she thinks that is also in Canada. She had asked me if I had been meditating. I told her I tried to, and she wanted to know if I am Buddhist. I told her no, but sukoshi (a little). It turned out that she is a Jehovah's Witness and we laughed about how strange the world is sometimes. The American woman meditated on the mountain and the Japanese woman would have liked to save her through Christ. That day I felt laughter all around me, like a quality of the air. The unexpected happens and laughter and joy are the natural result. It occurs to me that I often have a weird way to understand and connect to the world. I know that birds aren't laughing at me and that laughter isn't a quality of the air, but I feel as though these things are. Humor might just be a part of the cosmic consciousness, and I intend to hold on to that idea.

May the mirth of the universe also bring you some lighthearted surprises.

Alma Hatzenbuhler, Sasebo, Japan