Writings

I was reading this article and it referenced the creation of our moon. It said that our current moon was formed when a Mars-sized object crashed into Earth and send the huge debris that became our moon into orbit.

The first thing that came to my mind was the creation story, of how woman was created out of a part of man, and how people have traditionally associated the moon with women. 

Of course, the comparison ends there, because the crash actually created two moons, and then the moons crashed into each other, and the moon was probably more tied to the menstrual cycle than its creation of women as a part of man.

***Update! One of my friends on facebook added this comment: Actually I am going to take shaman out of it all together. There are comparisons in some earlier Pre-Judeo-Christian to Lilith as a second dark moon. More tribal Judaism. It’s a reference that a lot of modern earth-centered religions have adopted.

Always glad of a multi-theological perspective in making religious meaning out of natural events!

Tonight I was chatting with a friend and remarked to her how at peace I am in this moment and these past few months being the happiest that I can remember. She was a little surprised - how could I be? Last year we lost all of our belongings in a flood (including precious baby albums), I was arrested, my husband’s parents died within two months of each other, and my daughter and I lived through the great earthquake of Japan.

She’s right to be surprised. Each of those things, in their moment, were terrifying and sad. Each of those moments are equal in weight to any other moment, and the good moments outweigh the bad. People pitched in and got us new belongings after the flood. My arrest in Arizona serves as an important part of my formation and understanding of justice. My husband’s parents died so close together because they deeply loved each other, and our family got to say good bye to each of them. People in Japan reacted as calmly as they could and reached out for each other. 

It is by keeping things in their moments, and living in this moment, that I am able to keep bad things from connecting to each other to form a deceptive web of a continual bad luck and constantly relive negative emotions. Accepting them for what they are and in that time they happen, and allowing myself to feel sad has been important. All of the things are loss that can be let go as I am ready, and all of them require transformation. That is what makes me happy to enjoy each moment, like when my four year old son falls asleep in my lap. 

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I am 16 years old when Stacey falls back into my classroom. She had already left that morning to get her braces off, but came back to say one thing. “Turn on the television, D. Just do it.”

Television isn’t allowed this hour for students, but my teacher, D, turned on the tv without hesitation. A plane hit a tower in New York. Stunned, she turned to Stacey, who shrugged and left for her appointment. She did not know what it meant either.

Nine years and six months later, to the day, an old man shuffles into the Tsubaki Grand shrine office in Yamamoto, Japan, where I am studying Shinto. Though I speak no Japanese, the exchange is the same. The old man tells the head priest to turn on the television. A map of Japan in the corner blinked with Tsunami warnings four minutes after an 8.4 magnitude earthquake struck northeast Honshu. Stunned, the priest turned to the old man, who shrugged and shuffled off. Silently, five robed Shinto priests stared at the television. I did too, though I barely understood. I did not want to pester my hosts with questions - where is that fire? Who is that making an announcement on the screen? Why is there a blinking map of Japan? - and so on. They tell me quickly it is far worse than the 1995 earthquake that killed 6,000.

I try to call for my daughter, but cell phone networks are down. The priests tell me she is safe in Kyoto, where I hadn’t felt a tremor when the earthquake struck. I try to pre-empt concern for my safety back home by calling, but ‘my world’ is asleep. Finally the BBC starts live coverage of the quake, which is different from the national networks of Japan. I see a tsunami rush over farmland, become black with earth but still foam white with seawater; it engulfs cars and houses. Ochiai sees what is on my computer screen and asks me where that is. “Sendai,” I say. “Sendai….that is one of the most beautiful places…” he trails off, staring at the monstrous wave destroy the countryside. There is immediate concern about the Fukishima Daichi power plant, which can’t cool down. “It is so terrible because the shaking won’t stop!” says Ochiai, checking the computer for updates the television may not have yet.

It is the day for Misogi, the water purification ceremony. The style of cutting away negative energies before entering a cold mountain waterfall is unique to Tsubaki Grand National Shrine. Conducted on the 11th of every month, every priest at the shrine does the ritual as well as some 400 followers. Women in their 80s dress in white robes alongside me. The ritual is conducted at 10 o’clock at night, because night is the time when the Kami (there 8 million of these deities, and there is a bit of us that is kami too, to over generalize) are about. Misogi is still performed the day of the earthquake, though many are missing because the intricate transportation systems that connect Japan’s cities are stalled. The cold and natural disaster notwithstanding, 200 people are eager to perform Misogi, including myself. There was no fire ritual afterwards, however, as people wanted to get home to watch the news. There was no proclamation about the divine and the earthquake from the shrine or a moment of silence. A curt acknowledgement from the leader and a quiet nod from all around sufficed. There was no pontification on this national tragedy from the Kami, perhaps because everyone has a part of the Kami in themselves, and already knew what they had to say. There was no blessing or curse from the shrine, even as the head priest’s mother was stranded in Tokyo. Even the Shinto Association official from Tokyo, who happened to be at the shrine for Misogi, futilely called each branch that day, gave an aura of quiet acceptance.

Japanese people know about the danger of earthquakes and prepared for a long time. This far away from it, there was nothing to do but to watch and wait. To be sure, the stoicism was human. There was grave concern, a fixation on the news, fervent discussion of the events, and even humor as a junior priest brought out his earthquake helmet. In my books I read that it’s a bit unwise to ask for specific positions in the light of Shinto to get a response, because a priest will shrug and give only their opinion, if they have one, and qualify it as such. They had gone into priesthood to become priests of shrines, nothing else. They thought America had separation of church and state, like they did after the disaster of State Shinto. They did not know politicians were judged on their religious faith or lack of it, of being a Jew or Catholic or Muslim, of the rise of the religious political right. I was asked why ministers do things like military chaplaincy, student ministry, addictions counseling or form a non-profit to help society’s ills. The government does these things in Japan. I pointed out a Tsubaki flower, fallen on the gravel. Everyday the rocks are raked over when the shrine closes. Instead raking over the flower someone had drawn circles around it, and purified it with salt. Why, I asked, do that, instead of getting rid of the flower? It would be much easier to show it less respect. It is just a flower, and will be thrown away in a few days. To me, people are like these flowers. They deserve respect, and ministry is the last profession in the United States to exude this principle, to respect the intrinsic worth of people, individually and collectively. Sure, other professions have this as something they ‘should’ do, and there is plenty of ministry that fails. But this is why I am called. I have seen joyful humanity, and am dedicated to ensuring all are a part of it. I think my hosts understood.

The earthquake, tsunami, and subsequent nuclear failures define an era for Japan, much as September 11th did for me in the United States. They say the revolution will not be televised, but watching the events in Bahrain happen alongside the earthquake relief efforts makes me think otherwise. I know this will not be the last time someone says to turn on the television, that we are not going believe what we are about to see, and that the messenger will not know more than we do. Still, there is always hope. The next day after the earthquake, all of the shrines reported in. The head priest’s family arrived safely from Tokyo, and I finally got ahold of my daughter.

My case dismissal has invoked many emotions. Initially, I am relieved that I do not have to go back to Arizona and risk jail time by pleading not guilty. In addition to my studies, I have a four year old son and a six year old daughter and an amazing partner who need me at home. And then I feel guilty, because I wonder if my skin color and affluence are a part of what allowed me to be arrested and “get off easy”. So many are needlessly arrested, so many are torn away from their families, and it happens to so many who disappear without a word. I, on the other hand, chose to be arrested, had an entire congregation cheering me when I got home, and an organized national network tracking my every move while inside jail. When I flew down to Arizona, I was not so convinced by Rev. Susan Fredrick-Gray that everything was as horrible in Arizona as she made it sound. Had I not been arrested I would never have seen that her words were merely the tip of iceberg. I would have found it hard to believe UUA President Peter Morales when he said that the situation in Arizona is the start of ethic cleansing. Being arrested allowed me to see how depraved Joe Arpaio and the Arizonan laws have become, and awakened me to a whole new level of social justice. It also allowed me to see a true solidarity effort, a model of what social justice can be like for Unitarian Universalist congregations. In not having to go back, I will not have an opportunity to see how this solidarity effort continues firsthand.  In light of all these considerations I feel determined. My experience in Arizona is only the beginning. There is a suggested law here in Nebraska written by the same racist who wrote SB 1070. Instead of flying down to Phoenix to plead not guilty, I will be traveling to the Nebraska state legislature to speak with my own senators here this Thursday (January 27th), and I will be urging them to Stand on the Side of Love.

Spin kicking the face of evil,

Shawna