Another View

Picture copyright Greg A. Hartford at
http://www.acadiamagic.com/. 

My wife and I bit off more than we could chew.

We set off to enjoy our favorite pastime, a long walk in Acadia National Forest. As a change of pace, we thought we would go from Eagle Lake to a trail in the saddle that separates Eagle Lake from Jordan Pond. Altogether, we walked about seven miles. Our walk turned into a hike.

On the return trip, we left the limpid water of Jordan Pond behind and plunged into the birch forest of the saddle between two hills called the Bubbles.  The trail went uphill in this direction; and, as the day was moving toward dusk, the sun splashed through the saw-edged birch leaves dappling their closely clustered slender white trunks with shimmering light. We were hiking into a canopy of glowing, living light.

I stopped in my tracks. I breathed deeply the cool, green air, my soul swimming in a pool of eternity.  The light, the trees, the rocks invited me to rest and release, to a happy sense that I existed in a marvelous beauty and harmony that far outweighed my worries. 

In the gift of that moment, I could briefly grasp that our world is saturated with God's eternal loving kindness. 

How did I get to that moment?  All we did was turn around and see the path from a different angle and in a different light. 

Being pleasantly weary and in the company of my beloved also helped.

We found ourselves in another view.

What's Next After St. Martin's?

Some years before I came to St. Martin’s, I attended three cooking classes taught by Christina Pirello, the host of WHYY’s Christina Cooks. In these classes, I learned how to cook in what Christina calls the “whole foods way”. “Cooking the whole foods way” means using fresh vegetables, whole grains, nuts, and legumes, and avoiding processed food. I was excited to be in Christina’s class because it took me back to my childhood days when I used to watch my mother cook. Interestingly, I learned that my mother also cooked in the whole foods way. You might say that Christina’s course was an advanced version of, what for me is, back-home cooking. So her class enabled me to refine my cooking skills. In particular, I learned different ways of chopping vegetables, how to
use my intuition when combining ingredients to make a recipe, and how to use appliances like a pressure cooker. I was also excited by the abundance and diversity of vegetables and legumes: so many colors, shapes and sizes with which to experiment. My choices of ingredients expanded. I now include leeks, rutabagas, parsnips, turnips, collard greens, kale, quinoa, flax seed, and many other ingredients in my recipes. 

Christina has inspired me since I took her classes. When she was 27 years old (some 30 years ago) she was diagnosed with terminal leukemia and did the most courageous thing. She opted to forego conventional treatment because, she told us, she saw how her mother suffered as she underwent chemotherapy. Around the same time of her diagnosis she met her future husband, Robert, who introduced her to Macrobiotic cooking and the macrobiotic lifestyle. A major part of her treatment was a matter of nutrition, and she credits her healing to eating in the way Robert taught her. She went into remission after a year and a half! As a nurse I was amazed by her recovery and by her trust in the power of nature to heal. Our body has the capacity to heal itself. We all have a healer-within, if we but trust in the power of our body to heal itself. 

I’ve heard and read similar courageous healing stories like Christina’s that inspire me and my husband to adopt their eating lifestyle to complement the traditional treatment he is receiving.

Some of you asked me about what I am going to do when I leave St. Martin’s. Well, I am going to take some Sabbath time and cook. I am going to cook like I’ve never cooked before. That is, I am going to devote more time to cooking than I ever did in the past. I have a collection of recipes from a stack of cookbooks that have been on my shelf for quite a while now just waiting to be cooked! These recipes are calling to me. And I plan to create some of my own recipes as well.

Lately, I have been spending much of my time in the kitchen when I’m home. I have come to consider my kitchen a sacred space in which I prepare holy food for nourishment and healing. Cooking has become a prayer exercise in which I thank God for the abundance God has given us and I ask God to bless each ingredient I am using for that meal. I also ask God to bless the fire, the pots and pans, and my hands.

I am looking forward to new possibilities during my Sabbath time and beyond. God willing, all will be well.

- The Rev. Harriet Kollin

The Rev. Harriet Kollin, Associate Rector, is leaving her employ at St. Martin's at the end of June. We'll celebrate her ministry with us these past three years, and wish her a blessed and fond farewell at the Pentecost worship services on Sunday, June 8, 2014.

Core Values and Stewardship of Action

(Reuters photo)

Today, we welcome a guest post on our staff blog from our Rector's Warden, Pam Hill.

A few months ago I was so smug! I had planned my visit to see our son Peter and his wife, Mandy very carefully, in order to be in South Dakota to help out soon after the birth of their new baby and get back here for the wonderfully exciting dedication of the new Wellspring space. Things worked perfectly! I could join them a week after they got home with the baby, stay for two weeks, and return in time for the celebration. It went flawlessly until the night before I was to fly home. Smugness turned into humility.

There’s nothing like a powerful act of nature to remind you that you’re not in charge. And there’s nothing like the elimination of daily props and taken-for-granted amenities to thrust you into an unasked for “back to basics” experience. It’s one thing to plan to go camping or to rough it on vacation, but to be “passing through” on your way elsewhere, then stymied in transit, on your own, in a makeshift spot, and having it suddenly become where you will remain for an unknown period of time, brings you to an intimate present in this transitory life. These are the times you bump into the question Jarrett raised on a recent Sunday: does creation care about me? There was day and there was night. There were few distractions—cold, wind, darkness, strangers, and snow. I say “present” because that’s where I was. There were past memories of fun-filled hours from days before and a remembered future that I would go into. But here and now was where I was without much to do. When busyness becomes pared down like this, is that when core values emerge? Maybe.

Survival or getting through is supposed to be a key instinct, a value we all have. Is the value on “me” or “us”? I think for many people at this present time, survival-in-comfort is really the value. And comfort is tied to getting what I want, more or less when I want it. It’s an affront when it’s taken away. In this storm trapped without lights, heat, or escape and with diminishing food and omg, dying cell phones, one comfort people sought was to be with others, so people gathered in small family or friend-groups in large, chilly, public spaces. At first there was a lot of complaining and asking questions that had no answers. Once beyond that however, a few people ventured out and struck up conversations with strangers. Somebody had a deck of cards; another person a set of dominoes. Games began. People shared ideas about how to keep warm, and information or rumors they’d heard. There were some little acts of kindness and some of appalling thoughtlessness. People more or less maintained civility. A certain pragmatism carried most people through. Things weren’t dire, and it would end relatively soon. Boredom or being with yourself with nothing to do (except fret) was a main complaint. In the midst of going someplace else we were all caught right here. There was an underlying nervous energy, especially for a lot of the men, to be out doing something to make it end faster. They would go out and stand in the gale winds and blowing snow and stare at their SUV’s and trucks, and then come back in. When the winds dropped and the snow stopped at last, they rushed out in sneakers and flip flops with wastebaskets as shovels to free their cars, sometimes taking the snow and dumping it on the car next to theirs. It’s a thin space between what I need and acting in concert with broader needs.

Core values, something we’re about to consider deeply at St. Martin’s, are shown in actions. If I think generosity is something I value, then others should see this through acts. That’s why identifying values has a check system that goes along with it. If I value consideration of others, yet cut in line ahead of those patiently waiting for food, they don’t call it consideration. I am the steward of my own actions, even if and especially when I’m caught in the unexpected. That’s not to say there aren’t moments of frustration, fear, huddling under the covers. (It was really cold!) Could I say that creation didn’t care about me? Sure. And that God didn’t care about me? Less sure. I still had stewardship over all I have been given. My actions would still be governed by my values. No longer could I act in smugness, though. That easily perceived yet rather thoughtless value faded. It was an unexpected time to think and to be immensely thankful. I could think about what I have, what I value, and what I could do. And with grace, maybe, be a sort of good steward. God does act in very mysterious ways.

- Pam Hill, Rector's Warden