Category: Religion

Realize

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

dna_6339076_lrgThe history of mankind is the instant between two strides taken by a traveler. — Franz Kafka

There is great diversity among the people who live on this planet. Each of us is a unique blend of nature and nurture. We are born with a pattern of DNA inside our bodies that identifies us and holds the history of our ancestors. Ironically the genetic differences between one human being and another are miniscule. On the whole we are more alike in basic composition than we are different. All of us are members of the humanoid species known as homo sapiens, a Latin phrase meaning “wise human.” Our kind evolved over hundreds of thousands of years. Other humanoid types did not survive but remarkably we did, overcoming monumental challenges as we traveled from eastern Africa to all parts of the known world.

Modern man often follows the money but our ancestors set out on the original journeys in search of food. Unlike the prey for which they searched homo sapiens stood upright, had a larger brain, and created tools that allowed them to overcome animals that were faster and stronger. Early humans worked together and created societies that moved together, protecting one another from dangers but also communicating with stories and flights of imagination. They not only made useful implements but also invented musical instruments and made images that resembled the animals that they tracked. They explored the world both on foot and inside their minds.

Even as other humanoid species became extinct homo sapiens found ways to grow and prosper as the dominant force on our planet. They imprinted their wills and their creativity on themselves and on the earth. They celebrated the relentless changing of the seasons with rituals and customs that they developed and followed from one generation to the next. They created systems for maintaining their very existence and sidelining the darker sides of their natures. There were geniuses among them who learned how to read the workings of the heavens and to invent better and better tools for survival and comfort.

Today we live in a world so remarkable that none of our earliest ancestors would recognize us as being one of them and yet our DNA tells us that we are indeed mostly the same. We continue to evolve and learn more about our world, our universe and ourselves. There are people so creative that they boggle even our modern minds and yet they are our brothers and sisters, with essentially the identical chemical composition and genetic codes that we possess. Even people in remote and far flung parts of the world operate from similar human habits. The shades of our skin vary according to the adaptations that our ancestors needed to survive in different latitudes. The ways that we eat and the recipes that we use are based on the food sources available to us. Those who came before us were a flexible and ingenious lot who adjusted to the environments in which they found themselves. Our numbers today tell us that most of them made it to live another day and devise better and better ways to do more than simply exist. Time and again mankind has realized the potential that lies within each of us.

While individual accomplishments have literally changed the world, it is in our willingness to live as a community of people that our true greatness is realized. The physicist Stephen Hawking is celebrated for his remarkable intellect but were it not for the contributions of his fellow man he no doubt might have died long before he was able to pronounce his theories of the universe. He is able to “speak” to us in spite of the horrible disease that took his ability to move or talk. Others have provided him with the support and the tools that he needs to continue his work and his conversations with the scientific community. When reveling in his genius we often forget the group effort that has made his survival possible.

Each day there are literally thousands upon thousands of nameless individuals who make our lives what they are. We take our conveniences for granted until a natural disaster or a war causes the systems that we have contrived to break down. When the normalcy of our world falls apart we begin to realize just how greatly we depend on one another and yet somehow even as we create comforts that allow us more and more freedom to develop ourselves we all too often separate ourselves into artificial groups. We identify ourselves based on the color of our skin, our political leanings, our incomes, our levels of education, our sexual orientations, our male or female chromosomes, our religions or lack thereof, our countries, our states, our cities, our zip codes. We become members of certain groups and view those outside of our own parameters with suspicion. We forget that it has always been our ability to work together in a spirit of community that has insured the very survival of our species.

If it were possible for each of us to track our ancestry all the way back to the beginnings of mankind’s time here on earth we would learn that we are all cousins descended from the same people who long ago stood up and began a journey that would ultimately span the globe. Perhaps one day we will realize that our bickering is rivalry among siblings and we will learn how to understand and cooperate in a spirit without judgement or evil intent. Surely if we are able to view inside the very essence of our bodies we will one day realize the ultimate potential of our hearts and minds. 

Big Girls Do Cry

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

woman-cryingI didn’t cry much when my father died, not because I had no emotions but rather because I somehow believed that I needed to stay strong for my mother and my brothers. I don’t think that it was particularly healthy of me to prevent the natural feelings that were causing me so much internal pain from becoming public. For a great deal of my life I have tended to be stoic. I’ve often put forth a strong face when what I really wanted to do was allow myself to sob. Over time I realized that tears and sadness are a natural aspect of our humanity that is to be celebrated rather than hidden. We are made to react to hurt and loss and pain with a release of our real feelings. Big girls really do cry and it is not just an okay thing to do, but a therapeutic release. When our minds and bodies urge us to set our tears free, we should feel comfortable responding to the instinct.

Of late I have been crying a great deal, but still not so much in front of other people. I’m in the process of becoming able to do that. It have been through a difficult three months as have so many. I find myself reliving the moment when my husband had his stroke, and I cry, mostly because I am relieved that he is still alive and thriving. I have cried almost every single day for the last month because invariably I see or hear something related to the horrible flood in my city, and I sense the struggles that so many are still enduring and will face for months to come. I can hardly watch the news reports of the conditions in Puerto Rico, a place that I recall being so friendly and beautiful. The images that flash across the screen are heartbreaking, and I feel helpless, so I cry. I have cried for my friends whose relatives have so recently died and for those who are reliving the anniversaries of such losses. I cried for my father-in-law who had an accident that has left him barely able to move. I shed twelve hours of tears while watching the Ken Burns series on Vietnam that ran for the last two weeks on PBS. The memories of that era of my life are still raw with emotion and the poignancy of the presentation brought long past feelings to the surface once again. I have cried for the state of our country today which seems as divided and angry and confused as it did back then. Problems that I believed to have been solved were evidently just festering beneath the surface. All of it has made me feel weary because I know of no magical solutions to make things better, and so I cry.

I am by nature a peacemaker. I have always wanted to help people to get along. I have loved living the role of a supporter, a motivator, an inspirer. I feel uncomfortable when people are angry and fighting. I suppose that this is because I learned so long ago that our lives are quite fragile. We simply do not know from one moment to the next how much more time we have on this earth, and so I believe that we must make the best of however many hours that we have. My heroes have been individuals like my Uncle William who was the epitome of kindness. I would be quite surprised to learn of even a single time when he purposely set out to hurt someone. He was a man who mostly set aside his own thoughts and did his very best to consider the wants and needs and dreams of everyone else around him. He was always willing to listen and to love. In that regard as a child I viewed him as the strongest person that I ever knew and my assessment of him has never changed.

I remember our neighbor Mr. Barry who everyone seemed to regard as a living saint. There was nothing wimpy about him. He had served in the Navy during World War II. He managed a large bank for years. He knew how to get things done, but he always accomplished them with an eye toward being sympathetic and good. He was one of those people who noticed the individual who was unseen by everyone else. He didn’t know it, but he was the male role model that I needed after my own father died.

There is a tendency these days to admire people who possess what I call a false bravado, individuals who bully, blame others for their mistakes and take pride in demeaning those who do not agree with them. I personally find such folks to be offensive and weak. They remind me of a student that I once had who found joy in hurting other kids. When he went after a blind girl in order to increase his own popularity I put him down with a vengeance that I never used on another student before or since. I was unwilling to allow him to parade like a champion when what he had done was so vile and cowardly. For that reason I have cried a  great deal of late, because our society appears to be mesmerized by those who behave the ugliest. It is something that I can’t understand.

Social media was a lifesaver during our Houston floods. I kept my sanity because I was able to stay in touch with friends and family members during the long days and nights when the waters filled our streets and homes. Unfortunately there is a negative aspect of that same wondrous means of communication that is hacking away at our decency. I suppose that it is simply too easy these days to dash off a quick and dirty reply to any person or situation that offends us. When we don’t have to look someone in the eye it is more likely that we will be willing to vent in ways that are hurtful. Too often we forget to think about how our comments may affect someone else. Too many among us don’t take the time to consider the impact of our words. When I see the fighting that ensues among people who were once friends and family members it makes me cry. There is simply no reason for any of us to be hateful, and yet even some of our leaders are not able to control their basest tendencies.

I am weary of hearing epithets about snowflakes, commies, ingrates, sons of bitches, entitled kids, abominable people, fascists, racists, homophobes, rednecks, ignoramuses. I listen as we devour one another with words and accusations that often have little or no basis in fact, and yet we speak as though they are gospel. I grow tired of seeing memes and tweets that trivialize serious situations or poke fun at entire groups of people. We seem intent on boiling a pot of furor, and so I cry.

I remember a time when I went on a civil rights tour with my students. We sat in the church in Birmingham where little girls were murdered because of hate. We crossed a bridge in Selma where fire hoses and snarling dogs had once been let lose on protestors whose only crime was asking for the same rights as their white counterparts. I walked down the street toward the capitol building in Montgomery and remembered the hateful rhetoric of  George Wallace. I cried as I looked at my students and remembered the violence and racism that I had witnessed when I was young. I stood in Dr. King’s kitchen and ran my hand across the very table where he sat and prayed for God’s guidance. I cried as I thought of his courage and wisdom and I knew that he too would always be one of my heroes.

I cry when I think of Jesus and the lessons He taught us, the sacrifices that He made. I wonder why it seems so difficult for us humans to follow His very simple message of love whether we believe He was God or not. What is it in our natures that makes us complicate and misinterpret His words? Why did we not learn how horrific hate can become from His death on the cross? What prevents us from being like my uncle or the man who was my neighbor?

As I grow older I find that I remember the kindnesses that were extended to me and I cry tears of joy and gratitude when I recall the people who touched my heart so beautifully. I also think of the ugly things that I have witnessed. They make me cry as well. I had hoped that we would be evolving toward a better way of living with one another by now. Unfortunately we are instead being taunted to take the low road, to dialogue with our fellow men and women with rancor rather than understanding. We give power to the rabble rousers instead of ignoring them and siding with those who would challenge us to bring out the good that resides in our souls. The fact that this is happening makes me cry.

I would so much rather cry over a beautiful sunrise or sunset. I want to shed tears when I see people helping people. I want to release those positive emotions when I watch a toddler so innocently embracing the world. I would prefer feeling a heave in my heart from listening to music or sharing a wonderful time with friends and family. I know that there will be uncontrollable events like natural disasters and deaths, but I am so tired of seeing the kind made by people. It really is up to all of us to begin to demonstrate the kind of understanding that was the hallmark of Uncle William’s and Mr. Barry’s lives. Those two men were so loved because they never hesitated to love.

Perhaps the most telling story about my uncle came when he was delivering mail along the route that had been his for years. He came upon the mother of a notorious serial killer and the emotion that he felt for her was unadulterated love. He spoke of how sad it must have been for her to lose her only son under such circumstances. He did not judge the woman nor consider that she might have somehow been responsible for how her son had become. Instead he simply cared for her, and worried about how she would be now that her son was condemned to prison for life. My uncle taught me how to love. I’m still trying to be as good as he always was, and while I am learning I sometimes cry.

The Ascent of Humankind

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

ad220478590first-lady-miche-e1474795934923I have always been a creature of habit. When I was still working I had to keep to a hard and fast routine or I would end up feeling overwhelmed. I told myself that when I finally retired I would become more easy going but found it almost impossible to live without daily parameters. I still generally follow a pattern of living not unlike the one that guided me for most of my adult life. I find myself measuring the quality of my day by the number of tasks that I accomplish. I follow the same steps both when I awake and during the waning hours before I retire for the night. There is comfort in the sameness at the beginning and end of each cycle of the sun. The things that I repeat over and over again provide me with a feeling of stability in a world that of late seems to have gone somewhat mad.

One of my morning quirks is to read the news while I eat my breakfast. I want to know what has happened in the world while I was slumbering. I know all too well what might take place in the dark of night. I have lived the nightmare of arising to learn that a loved one has died while I was blissfully dreaming. Waking to very bad news has happened to me and to my friends many times over. Perhaps it is one of the reasons that I have evolved into a restless sleeper, always on alert. I am thankful for each morning that I see the sun but also leery that I might learn of yet another tragic event.

Today I awoke to find that a shooter was firing at passersby at a strip center in my city. I am quite familiar with the area where the incident unfolded even though it is somewhat far from where I actually live. I have shopped and dined there. For many years I dreamed of living in the neighborhood near there. It is an upscale part of town, somewhere that always seemed safe and devoid of the problems that plague much of Houston.

The updates that kept pinging on my phone indicated that six people were transported to the hospital which luckily is only minutes away in one of the best medical centers in the world. The shooter was “neutralized.” The always very busy road where all of this played out was closed and there was a shelter in place for residents of an apartment complex located near the tragedy. In real time I learned all about an event about which I might have been ignorant in times past and I find myself wondering if all of this news to which we are privy is helping or hurting us. Do we actually have better lives because we are now able to be “eyewitnesses” to war and murder or is the continuous barrage of carnage somehow damaging our collective psyche? Are we becoming immune to the violence or is it frightening and inciting us? Is there a connection between the twenty four hour news cycle and the questionable character of the two people that we have nominated as the potential leaders of our nation? Are we indeed backed onto a dangerous precipice or is the continuous reality show to which the newscasters subject us merely hyperbole designed to keep our attention? How much do we really need to know and how much should we simply ignore?

I am as uncertain about such things as most people are these days. I take comfort in knowing that while we do indeed live in a brave new world that is fraught with uniquely modern day problems, mankind’s journey has wound its way through centuries and somehow we have managed time and again to continue moving slowly but surely forward. Time stretches so far back that it is unimaginable. Our history as people is recorded from thousands of years ago. Whether we take the Old Testament of the Bible for granted or view it as a kind of folktale we understand that murder, war and mistreatment have been a part of our natures for as long as we have walked on this earth but hope and promise of a better world have time and again guided us to the realization of our better natures.

I began watching a series on the history of India last night. It told of ancient Greek navigators who risked monsoons to sail to India in search of enchanting spices like pepper and cardamon. The narrator told of the development of the silk road from China and the earliest kingdoms that dominated what we now call the Middle East, Pakistan and India itself. Many of the places that became centers of invention, trade and religious pilgrimages still exist today much as they did thousands of years ago. Most of the progress and learning that prompted such adventures took place during long stretches of peace. When there was no war humans turned their talents and their interests to creativity and inventiveness. Sadly jealousies and hunger for power all too often overtook mankind’s better natures and brought violence that destroyed entire dynasties. Our collective story demonstrates a human pattern of renaissance and destruction that asserts itself over and over again.

We never seem to completely solve all of our problems even with our best intentions to do so. Sometimes events overwhelm us and we become swept up in realities that most of us would rather avoid. We become part of the cycles of both everyday living and history. Our hope is that somehow we will manage not just to survive the difficult times but also to become stronger and better because of our experiences. Our goal is to learn and improve and move forward, a dream that is at times easier to imagine that to execute. It requires the capacity and willingness to accept one another just as we are.

In a world that can seem cruel and unfeeling a breathtaking thing happened this past weekend at the opening of the new Smithsonian museum for African American history. A photographer captured a touching moment when First Lady Michelle Obama gave a big hug to a smiling former President George W. Bush. The photo shows a millisecond of unplanned, unrehearsed innocence and genuine friendship between two people who have often been scorned by the public at large. In that brief encounter lay the seeds of a better future, a time when we might become more capable of seeing each other not as philosophies or religions or nations but simply as the wonderfully beautiful human beings that we are. It is only when we can look past the slogans and posturing and opinion mongering that continually invade our space that we truly harness the potential for greatness that lies in each and every one of us. It is during the times that we grow weary of fighting and instead live and let live that our humanity most shines forth. That is when our most awe inspiring spirits have the room to soar and ascend.

I don’t know where we are in the unfolding our human history. I have seen both good and bad times in my almost seventy decades. In the grand scheme of things I am but an infant and yet I know enough about our human routines to believe like King Lear that we always circle back to peace and goodness even when we appear to be at our worst. No matter how bad things may look, we need to keep the faith. A new day will come. The sun will shine. A Leonardo da Vinci or an Albert Einstein will be born. The future lies somewhere in our midst, somewhere in each one of us, and it is good. 

Almost Heaven

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

autumn evening above Bear Lake

Nobody can say for certain what heaven is like or even if it exists in a physical sense. It is highly possible that it is just an eternal feeling of peace in which a soul happily resides. I’ve heard a number of different theories but my favorite is that each of us gets to create the imagery for heaven that makes us the happiest. If that happens to be so then I can’t think of any locale where I would rather spend forever than the area around Rocky Mountain National Park.

I return to that enchanted place again and again and never seem to grow weary of seeing the magnificent peaks, the rivers and lakes, or the variety of animals. Every drive along Trail Ridge Road is different from the last. Depending on the weather and the time of day or year the view changes. A ray of sunshine here and a shadow there create new colors and draw my eye to never before noticed characteristics. The beauty is so breathtaking that the human mind is only able to take in so much in a single moment. I would not mind at all having the opportunity to explore even the tiniest nooks and crannies for all time.

There is something quite spiritual about that part of the world. Each time that I visit I am renewed. My soul is filled with contentment and a newfound certainty that God is ever present in our world if only we look for Him in the wondrous gifts that He has created. The people that I encounter there are mostly smiling and happy as though all of their cares and woes have been lifted from their minds. Like me they are enchanted by the abundance and rare beauty of nature. Life is taken down to its bare minimum. There is no need for fancy clothes, expensive cars or the latest hairstyle. Mostly everyone meanders along the paths with little thought of pretense. It is a freeing experience to be where judgements are suspended and everyone is simply partaking of wondrous simplicity.

Somehow the animals seem to rule Rocky Mountain National Park rather than the humans. We only observe and enjoy. It’s a good feeling to be laid back and unconcerned with trying to bend the world to our wills. Somehow it seems right to only be in the moment in a way that is far more difficult in the cities and towns that require our constant attention to things that in the end matter very little. I love to sit quietly and listen to the wind and feel its caress on my face. I enjoy watching a flock of hummingbirds buzzing joyfully over my head. The haunting sound of the elk is as lovely as a symphony.

Of course I don’t actually have to go to heaven to immerse myself in Rocky Mountain National Park. It is already there for all of us to enjoy thanks to the forward thinking of men like John Muir and Theodore Roosevelt who so loved the natural world that they thought it wise to set aside swaths of it so that future generations might one day realize what our country was like before we planted our footprint so indelibly on what had once been wild and free.

So many of the forests are now gone, cut down to make way for ever more people. I can recall vast tracts of natural sanctuaries even in cities like Houston in a time before there had been millions of residents vying for a plot of land. Over the decades we have chopped and burned and evicted the creatures who once roamed right in our own backyards. We have dumped our refuse in the waters often without regard. We put toxins into the air never thinking about what their longterm effect might be. Slowly but surely we are changing our earth. It is good that there are still places where our imprint is not quite as noticeable as it might otherwise be.

I so love the mountains. I suspect that if my earthly responsibilities had not demanded my presence in another place I might have chosen to live there. As it is I have only been able to visit now and again. I often wonder if bringing all of my baggage there would have ultimately polluted the purity of the feelings that I have when I am only a visitor. Maybe it is indeed best that I am limited in the time that I might spend in the area that brings me such a sense of joy. Perhaps if I were always there, concerned more with making it from day to day, I would be blinded by worries and lose my ability to see the spectacular.

I’m feeling a sense of profound contentment right now that will no doubt sustain me during those times when life becomes overwhelming. I have just spent a week reveling in the place that I love best. I am returning to reality and all of the ups and downs that each of us experience. I know that the mountains will wait for my return. They have never failed me. Even here in this always imperfect world they are almost heaven and I have experienced their wondrously healing power again and again. Perhaps one day if my life has been judged to be worthy I will know that joy for all time.

Tribes

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

salad-bowl2We humans seem to naturally gather together in groups. Sometimes we are part of harmless cliques or clubs. Often we belong to a particular race or ethnicity. As long as we respect one another’s differences and don’t devolve into mistrust or envy of the other alliances we manage to live in harmony but the history of the world all too often demonstrates a tendency for people to choose up sides with disastrous consequences.

My grandparents came from a part of eastern Europe with a tribal mentality. The people there have squabbled with one another for centuries. The Austro-Hungarian empire was an attempt to forcefully unite a disparate group of people who for the most part despised one another. Treaties with this country and that led to full blown war when the heir to the throne was assassinated. World War I and the tragedy that it spawned came from the inability of the many ethnicities to find ways to share limited resources and land. The horror of that conflict was magnified a couple of decades later when Adolf Hitler went so far as to attempt to create a so called master race by ridding his country of all those considered to be undesirable.

Most of the civil wars and disagreements in the world today are between different religious sects, political philosophies, and tribes. From the South Sudan to Syria the human suffering that we see derives from groups who can’t get along. There are Suni Muslims fighting Shia Muslims and everyone in the Middle East seems to hate the Kurds and the Jews. Here at home we are becoming increasingly divided by political and religious philosophies. It’s not healthy. We don’t want to become Balkanized like the place from whence my grandfather fled over a hundred years ago.

We all have a sense of pride in who we are. I am first and foremost a human being  from the United States of America. I am also a native Texan. My DNA marks me as mostly British and Eastern European. I am a Catholic but that same DNA indicates that my chromosomes show traces of European Jew. I am a unique combination derived from thousands of years of movements across continents and oceans. Today I humbly stand as someone who is just me, no better nor worse than anyone else. Essentially my only desire is to live in harmony and be allowed to have my own points of view.

I once worked with a brilliant historian. She held advanced degrees from the University of Houston and Rice University. She herself had been a war orphan from Austria who was sent to a family in the United States. She had a particular interest in the European alliances of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. She also had a German car that often broke down so she needed rides home from time to time. Since her neighborhood was on the way to mine I usually offered to give her a lift. My motives didn’t always derive from generosity for I was fascinated by the conversations that I had with her. I used any excuse to hear her talk about the similarities that she saw between the Balkan states of Europe and the way she saw our own citizenry splintering into interest, religious and ethnic groups. She worried that we might one day be at one another’s throats and warned that we needed to find ways to resolve our differences or pay the consequences.

The age old argument is whether our American society should be a melting pot or a tossed salad. For years coming to the United States meant embracing the language, the culture and the beliefs. National pride meant loving America unconditionally. That was the melting pot. We set aside our differences and became as one. The problem is that such an idea was only minimally true. My own mother was taunted for being a Catholic and bearing the appearance of a foreigner. We all know that the Black citizens among us still struggle to be accepted as equals. There are those who would judge an individual based on color of skin, religion or language. Since we all like to celebrate our ancestry it seems more fitting to speak of being a gloriously beautiful salad in which each individual part mixes together to create a feast for the eyes and the palate. Such a theory only works if we agree to honor and respect one another and to share in a spirit of partnership. If we begin vying for power and resources the system begins to break down.

I believe in our capitalist republic. I think that it gives each of us the best opportunity to make something of ourselves but we have to be honest when it isn’t working as well as it should. We’ve often disagreed with one another on how to fix problems but the important thing is that we try. Of late we seem more inclined to turn our backs on anyone with whom we differ. Rather than attempting to find neutral ground we insult and push back on one another. Name calling has become a national pastime. As my old friend warned we are becoming increasingly divided and angry. Sadly I don’t believe that our tendencies will come to any good. I truly worry when I hear people say that if things don’t go their way they will move from the country rather than staying to work together. It is a sure sign that we are in grave danger of warring rather than finding solutions.

We certainly have our share of troublemakers all around us. They come from virtually every splinter group. They are rabble rousers who take delight in watching us fight among one another. Just as Osama Bin Laden and Nikita Khrushchev predicted we are in danger of being defeated from within. There are many people in the world who will celebrate if we fall. They are playing psychological games to make us feel unsafe. It is up to us to be better than they think we will.

We can all have good lives and still have plenty to share with others. We don’t have to fight unnecessary battles or follow those who would play on our fears. I would hate to think that my grandparents sailed all the way across the ocean to begin a new life here in the United States only to have this country end up much like the one that they left. We all love our children. We all want a bright future for them. It’s time that we began to work on accomplishing that without bashing those whose ideas differ from ours. We belong to the same tribe. It’s called mankind and underneath the superficialities that seem to define us is exactly the same flesh and blood.