AN ILLUMINATING DIALOGUE

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 1 Comment

I’ve suggested meeting with some of the historic Friends sitting on our meeting library shelves, and mentioned the possibility of finding one or two who converse intimately with you, usually in the English of another era. (I’ve seen this happen rather frequently, even if it takes time to find the unique voice.) In this sense, one or two may become timeless companions in your inward growth. Or maybe an old Quake is simply a mentor along the way.

Knowing them can also help us as a PEOPLE of faith. Their range of experiences and concerns provides insights into other streams of Friends today, as Dover Friends have found in our relationship with Cuban Quakers. It also gives us a basis for renewed dialogue on everything from worship and teaching to outreach and social justice issues. We quietist Friends have as much to learn from Evangelical Friends as they do from us – even as we explore our branching out from the same powerful roots.

I’ll leave this for now, saying only that in digging for Quaker roots, it’s possible to find yourself jolted, like grabbing onto a live wire. And who knows where that will lead.

*   *   *

Now, for an update. For ease of convenience, let me point you to overviews of these earlier Friends, all at my As Light Is Sown blog:

MEETING WITH HISTORY

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 5 Comments

Some have observed that Friends look to their history more than most other denominations do. They say a group that lacks dogma, creed, or liturgy will by necessity rely on its tradition for its guideline and authoritative reference. Well, maybe so. After all, to function as a Society of Friends, we need a common language that enables us to convey our diverse experiences, insights, desires, and needs in ways that knit us together. English Quaker Caroline E. Stephen (1835-1909) was amazed that any group of mystics could actually operate together at all, yet Friends do – and have. Eventually, I think, that functioning becomes part of the attraction early Quakers, especially, extend to us.

While much can be learned by exploring the history of Friends, there’s even more to be gleaned by uncovering a historic Friend who resonates especially with YOU. Sometimes these appear in the published journals, which relate inward and outward journeys through life (a gem may pop up in the middle of an otherwise tedious stretch of travel). Other times, they’re in memorial minutes, letters, or tracts. Sometimes, the words of an obscure Friend begins a lifetime dialogue. Ask around meeting, and there will be many suggestions. Or simply delve into the meeting library (the leatherbound collection holds many surprises, too).

In my experience, I can say that in actively invoking these ancestors, we cross a point where they’re no longer quaint (that nostalgic view of the smiling Quaker Oats man or people in some country meetinghouse) but instead astonishingly revolutionary. Their struggles and discoveries may suddenly speak to our own, even if what erupts is a loud argument – like the one Lewis Benson and John Curtis had in the mid-20th century before concluding that George Fox meant exactly what he was saying, scriptural citations and all. To speak of walking cheerfully in the face of brutal oppression and imprisonment is startling – and a starting point for transformation. It’s beneficial, too, when we discover we don’t need to constantly reinvent the wheel in our practice of faith, but also disconcerting when we realize how much of the work they began remains for us to continue. At least they stand ready to help us.

HIERARCHY OF WEEDS

~ Jnana Hodson

There’s an abundance of stealth maples, of course. Should we want the yard to revert to maple forest, we’d leave them untouched. Otherwise, they’ll overrun – and overshadow – everything we intend to garden. This is New England. Our yard has too little open, full sunlight as it is. Just ask my wife.

Each spring, we get thousands of these maple sprouts as they race to establish themselves around our yard and garden. Often, they pop up in the middle of plants you want, where they like to hide until it's too late, so eradicating the maples early is essential.
Each spring, we get thousands of these maple sprouts as they race to establish themselves around our yard and garden. Often, they pop up in the middle of plants you want, where they like to hide until it’s too late, so eradicating the maples early is essential.

Unless one is a truly dedicated weeder, a triage sets in: aim at the most damaging species and go after it, rather than everything at once. Thus, the maple seedlings, before they establish deep roots that are impossible to pull up. Or concentrate on specific beds each year: the asparagus and ferns, for instance.

There’s a list of common invasive species. We have them all.

Others that are welcome, within limit: honeysuckle, on the cyclone fence; mint, at the back, for mojitos and iced tea. Maybe even poison ivy, tolerated to ward off pedestrians or to establish boundary.

Dandelions (tooth of the lion) are no longer a weed now but daily greens for our rabbits and our own table, at least at the beginning of the season. After that requires vigilance.

The wild rose hips are becoming another matter altogether.

A FEW THOUGHTS WHILE SIFTING COMPOST

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 8 Comments

Come springtime every year, there’d be a predicable domestic spat. I’d say the compost was ready. She’d look at it and retort, “No, it’s not: you can still see bits and tell what it’s made of.” (Actually, two shes – mother and daughter.) “Then you’ll have to wait another year for it to finish to your specifications,” I’d shoot back, only to be told we couldn’t wait that long. And so on.

Part of this seemed to question my very manhood. I was, after all, the one doing all the work, from collecting the bags of leaves around the neighborhood and dumping the kitchen garbage in the covered bins to changing the rabbit cages, in large part for their precious, nitrogen-intense pellets.

Well, most of the work. The red wigglers would also do a large share.

Still, I suspected that if we waited as long as they wanted, all of our organic matter would evaporate.

At last, I had a flash of genius. I’d slowly sift the pile, trowel by trowel, and whatever came through the screen turned out beautiful. They approved and used buckets of it on the square-foot garden beds as fast as I could provide them. The part that didn’t fit through the screen was also beautiful, along the lines of woodland detritus with flecks of brown eggs.  I put that aside to decay further, perhaps to be spread as mulch in July or August.

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The motion of sifting itself can become a kind of Zen practice as you admire the material before you and the thoughts flitting through your awareness.

This movement’s like panning for gold, as I found washing my dishes in the glacier-fed river below Mount Shuksan. Back and forth, back and forth, with all that matter getting smaller and sparkling more in each round of swirling.

All the peach stones are tokens from our cheap peach bonanza after Hurricane Irene ruffled nearby orchards.

The squirrels plant a lot of our wild black walnuts.

Listen to all the cardinals and mourning doves.

Plastic, in flecks, is inescapable.

How loud, those geese overhead! Me, I’d be more stealthy.

We eat a lot of eggs.

FLOWERING MEMORIES

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 3 Comments
Mountain laurel have taken hold in our Quaker burial ground. Now, if I could only get them to do likewise in our yard.
Mountain laurel have taken hold in our Quaker burial ground. Now, if I could only get them to do likewise in our yard.

My fondness for mountain laurel springs from my days in the ashram in the Poconos. Those tiny white clusters like origami that open into tiny teacups are, I was told, the state flower of Pennsylvania, and protected by state law.

My fondness for rhododendron goes back even further, to backpacking a section of the Appalachian Trail as an 11-year-old Boy Scout and coming upon Roan High Knob in full bloom in North Carolina.

Joe Pye weed is something I’ve learned to appreciate here, after we bought our annuals at the Conservation District sale.

Add that, as it thrives, to our azaleas.

Rhododendron and mountain laurel line the lane under tall pine in our undisturbed Friends burial ground.
Rhododendron and mountain laurel line the lane under tall pine in our undisturbed Friends burial ground.

BRAKE FOR MOOSE, TOO

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 3 Comments

On a May night five years ago, while driving home from the office, I did something I’d never before done: braked to keep from hitting an owl. Actually, I began braking because of a gray flutter in the foliage on the right side of the road – a deer, perhaps, or moose, because of the shoulder-height of the movement and color. Instead, the owl flew out over the road and continued for a hundred feet or more up Route 155 as I followed, before turning to perch in a tree, where I caught a glimpse of its shape.

Several weeks earlier, in the same stretch of roadway, I saw a smaller owl (or so I’d say) dart across the road, above the pavement by a dozen feet.

Earlier that week, I had two glorious commutes via the Mountain Route. The first, clear sky – brilliant green pointillism set off by sunlight and blue. Two days later, drizzle and fog – quite moody, especially with a matching live broadcast performance of Ravel by the Formosa Quartet, one that looked mostly, as it were, into the soft shadows rather than the usual sunlight. (Renoir, more than Monet or Serrat.)

How easily such glories can be lost in the memory. How wonderful, to revisit them.

WHEN LEADERSHIP GOES WRONG

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 5 Comments

Leadership is a fascinating subject, not just the source of many intriguing biographies but also corporate case studies and political histories and military campaigns and religious movements and … well, feel free to add to the list. We’ve all been in places where we’ve worked with admirable leaders, as well as places where we’ve suffered – perhaps even leaving in despair.

Outstanding leadership is, of course, a rare and wonderful occurrence. Mediocre is, by definition, the norm. And then there’s the kind that worms itself into position and sets about doing destruction.

Lately, I’ve been reflecting (again) on the last one. Not just inept, but destructive. I can work around one, but the other one makes for an impossible situation. Think Moby Dick.

It doesn’t always start off as badly as I’ve portrayed. Sometimes the individual begins gangbusters, doing everything right, before something goes seriously wrong. The person may simply burn out or lose interest. Conditions may change, so that the fit no longer works to the organization’s advantage. (Corporate organizational consultants have elaborate charts of the qualities needed for a startup versus a maturing company, or one shifting from private ownership to a public stock offering or the reverse.) Sometimes the person is fine for when everything’s going smoothly but has no ability to adjust for necessary – and often painful – restructuring, especially when layoffs and shutdowns are involved. Or there may be a buried demon that is let loose somewhere along the way, perhaps triggered by a divorce or death or temptations such as greed or power-hunger or sheer arrogance or flawed leadership techniques such as bullying and abuse or deep-seated insecurity or an untamed ego or, well, again the list goes on. Feel free to add or amplify. This, too, is a source for many great works of literature, operas, plays, and movies. The dark side comes forth.

My big question is whether an organization reacts in time to save itself, and what steps can be taken before it’s too late.

One of the first signs of trouble is the departure of key personnel, often lower-level individuals on the front line – or at least a failure to hear their complaints without retaliation. Sometimes it’s flight at some of the highest levels. After all, their jobs are at stake.

Usually, however, the awareness comes later.

The New York City Opera, for instance, appointed a new CEO whose brief tenure was disastrous. His flamboyant, extravagant vision for the company sent it straight for the cliffs, and the trustees’ decision to terminate his reign ultimately came too late to prevent the train wreck. This was a company, we should note, founded by visionary leadership that continued through several administrations. RIP.

I’m thinking, too, of situations where one of the top leaders engages in clandestine conflict – often backstage, one-on-one building alliances – that’s ego-based to the detriment of the organization. Commonly, the player lacks an appreciation for the culture and values of the organization and seek to turn it toward his or her own goals, including self-power enhancement, regardless of the trustees’ projections. Removing such a toxic manager, however necessary, produces ill feelings and misunderstanding all around, especially when the others are prevented by legal constraints from speaking openly of their underlying reasons.

Sometimes I think it’s a miracle organizations get anything done, top to bottom or, more accurately, bottom to top. There’s far more to leadership than barking orders, for sure, or undue frugality. I’d put mutual understanding high on my list of leadership qualities.

How about others?

~*~

I looked at something similar – good bosses and bad – back on June 28, 2013. To take a look, just click here.

EAT YOUR WEEDS

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 17 Comments

OK, the title’s a cross between the classic “Eat your greens,” as grandmothers used to advise, and the once ubiquitous “Eat your Wheaties,” as the Cheerios folks used to advertise. But this time of year, I’m doing something that gives me a sense of being simultaneously virtuous and hedonistic.

Here’s what you do. Pick the dandelions before they blossom, hopefully uprooting them while you’re at it, and then wash the early greens before the plants turn altogether bitter. (Toss the roots aside; that’s the weeding part of the equation.) You then use the tiny leaves as the basis for salads or, I suppose, anything Florentine. Yes, food writer Angelo Pelegrini (a decade before Julia Child) was right in his praises: dandelion greens in season can be glorious. If you like spinach, you’ll understand.

We’ve been delighting on them both as cold salads and as quickly blanched greens, especially with hard-boiled eggs and/or thick, crisp bacon on top. A fried egg works nicely, too, with its runny yolk. Top your dish with grated cheese if you want. Salt and pepper to taste. Can anything be simpler?

And that’s as close as you’re going to get to a recipe on this blog. I’ll let others point to the fancier variations. For that matter, they can even match it with the right wine … or beer.

 

 

 

 

HIPPIE, HIPSTER, OR WHAT?

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 12 Comments

An identity debate is raging in some corners over who is or isn’t a hippie versus a hipster. It goes back in part, I suppose, to the defining line between hippie and beatnik, even though I could point to many points where they blur together.

For me, the bigger question invokes the world of those individuals who don’t feel at home in the mainstream but rather gravitate in a bohemian direction. Yes, there have always been those who go out of their way to look the part of the movement … and those who just are. With hippies versus hipsters, I might draw a line in a person’s stance when it comes to non-violence and equality and the like, but there were always degrees when it came down to specific instances. These days, in my reexamination of the hippie movement, I keep arguing that hippies came – and still come – in many varieties.

That’s part of the reason I find myself smiling when I hear the theme for the local arts and technology charter school’s prom: Victorian Steampunk.

Sounds cool to me. And like a lot of fun. Besides, it really is a sweet group.

Sure beats ours back in the mid ’60s.

The hippie era, I might add, had a thing for Victorian style anyway. Even if we didn’t put clocks in our stovepipe hats.

 

LITERATURE ACCOMPANYING THE HIPPIE EXPERIENCE

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 25 Comments

A shelf of books was often part of the hippie scene, and I suppose many of the novelists and poets were technically beatniks, but they shaped our journey as well. I think, especially, of Richard Brautigan, Jack Kerouac, Allen Ginsberg, Gary Snyder, Richard Farina, and Gurney Norman, as well as the German Herman Hesse of an earlier era, and Tom Wolfe’s Electric Kool-Aid Test Acid Test. There were also many non-fiction works of influence, including the Whole Earth Catalog, and the Lama Foundation’s Be Here Now.

Which authors and volumes would you add to the shelf if you were trying to give a fuller picture of the experience?

I suspect there are some fine reads that need to be recovered, and blatant self-promotion is also welcome.

This book swap’s open!