A New Year's Affirmation
My affirmation for the new year is to more fully know my true nature.
My True nature enables me, as Emerson said:
“To laugh often and much,
to win the respect of intelligent people and
the affection of children, to earn the appreciation of
ones critics and endure the betrayal of false friends.
To appreciate beauty, to find the best in others,
to leave the world a bit better,
whether by a healthy child, a garden patch…
To know even one life has breathed easier because I have lived.
This is to have succeeded!”
I would love to know what your affrimation is for the new year.
Click on the comment option below and let me know!
Happy new year! - Jack
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Monday, December 29, 2008
Our Voices Must Remain Raised!
It is a myth that domestic partners (even in California) have the same rights as traditional married couples. In fact there are 1138 rights that domestic partners do not have. More importantly, I invite you to ponder this: I did not join the “No on 8” campaign because I was seeking permission to “be allowed” to marry the one I love. I joined the cause to raise my voice to say: You have no right to tell me that I can not marry the one that I love. I will not be marginalized, nor will I willingly surrender my civil rights to anyone.
I invite everyone to check out www.equalitymatters.org .
I invite everyone to check out www.equalitymatters.org .
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Tin-foil Lessons for Aluninum-foil times
“8,420; 8,440; 8,460; 8,480 . . . ah, sir I don’t think I should count any more – these last bills are disintegrating. Shall I deposit what we have so far?”
That was the last “surprise” my step father left my mother and me after his death. Nearly $8,500, all in twenty dollars bills – stacked neatly into an empty “Wonder Bread” wrapper.
Surviving the great depression taught my parents some interesting values. Lessons regretfully I didn’t fully learn, now as I and many others face the challenges of a mere “recession.”
I was helping my host tidy up after Thanksgiving when he commented. “Now remember we recycle – think of the planet!” I noticed the aluminum foil wasn’t soiled, so I neatly spread it out and folded it into nice squares for easy keeping. A task I had done a thousand times as a child. In fact, my mother had a “special drawer” dedicated to washed-out zip lock bags, margarine tubs and lids, and aluminum “tin foil” squares that could be used again.
“What are you doing? I’m not going to keep it. I just want you to put it into the “blue” bin out in the garage for the recycle guys.” I made a trip to the garage, but not to put the aluminum foil into the recycle bin. Instead I put the nicely folded squares into my jacket pocket.
As I drove home I reminisced about some of my parents other frugal habits. My parents were not rich. In fact – barely middle class. However, they always had money. They each owned a brand new car every other year. Owned their home and when I say “owned” I mean paid cash for it, never financed it. My college was “paid for” from their savings account. They never had a “debt” of any kind.
Yeah, it was a different time, but not really. Not when you watched how they managed their funds. Every Friday when my Dad received his weekly pay check from the local “glass factory” he’d go directly to the bank and cash the check. He’d bring all the money home and lay it out on the kitchen table.
If the Electric bill was $45.00 dollars, he’d count out two twenties and a five dollar bill and place it into the envelope the bill had arrived in. He’d then count out the cash for every other bill that had arrived. Once all the bills had been “handled” he’d give my mom $60.00 for groceries. He would write into his “ledger” each bill that had been paid.
The rest of the money would go back to the bank after he’d gone downtown to pay each bill – in person. But before he left the house, he’d hustle me out of the kitchen. “I’m going to set a little something aside just in case you need it. Your Mother will remember where it is – if she ever needs it to - put me away.” I can honestly say, I never really understood what he meant.
Several years later, my mom and I came home after making his funeral arrangements. His funeral was going to cost $8500.00. I was stunned at the expense. I asked my mom if that was going to be a burden. And of course her response was – “Well no. We planned for this.” And then her eyes widen. “Oh, the drawer! Jack, go to the “tin foil” drawer and pull it out.”
I went to the kitchen and opened the drawer. I saw nothing but aluminum foil squares, zip lock bags and margarine tubs. “What am I looking for?”
“Pull the drawer entirely out of the counter.”
When I did, I noticed that the drawer was only about ½ as long what I expected it to be. When I looked into the cavity I noticed a Wonder Bread bag. I reached in and pulled the bag out. It was filled with twenty dollar bills.
When the teller stopped counting at $8,480 dollars, I was so touched by the irony that I reached into my pocket and handed her another twenty.
“This makes it $8500. Even. Just enough to “put him away” as he had planned.”
That was the last “surprise” my step father left my mother and me after his death. Nearly $8,500, all in twenty dollars bills – stacked neatly into an empty “Wonder Bread” wrapper.
Surviving the great depression taught my parents some interesting values. Lessons regretfully I didn’t fully learn, now as I and many others face the challenges of a mere “recession.”
I was helping my host tidy up after Thanksgiving when he commented. “Now remember we recycle – think of the planet!” I noticed the aluminum foil wasn’t soiled, so I neatly spread it out and folded it into nice squares for easy keeping. A task I had done a thousand times as a child. In fact, my mother had a “special drawer” dedicated to washed-out zip lock bags, margarine tubs and lids, and aluminum “tin foil” squares that could be used again.
“What are you doing? I’m not going to keep it. I just want you to put it into the “blue” bin out in the garage for the recycle guys.” I made a trip to the garage, but not to put the aluminum foil into the recycle bin. Instead I put the nicely folded squares into my jacket pocket.
As I drove home I reminisced about some of my parents other frugal habits. My parents were not rich. In fact – barely middle class. However, they always had money. They each owned a brand new car every other year. Owned their home and when I say “owned” I mean paid cash for it, never financed it. My college was “paid for” from their savings account. They never had a “debt” of any kind.
Yeah, it was a different time, but not really. Not when you watched how they managed their funds. Every Friday when my Dad received his weekly pay check from the local “glass factory” he’d go directly to the bank and cash the check. He’d bring all the money home and lay it out on the kitchen table.
If the Electric bill was $45.00 dollars, he’d count out two twenties and a five dollar bill and place it into the envelope the bill had arrived in. He’d then count out the cash for every other bill that had arrived. Once all the bills had been “handled” he’d give my mom $60.00 for groceries. He would write into his “ledger” each bill that had been paid.
The rest of the money would go back to the bank after he’d gone downtown to pay each bill – in person. But before he left the house, he’d hustle me out of the kitchen. “I’m going to set a little something aside just in case you need it. Your Mother will remember where it is – if she ever needs it to - put me away.” I can honestly say, I never really understood what he meant.
Several years later, my mom and I came home after making his funeral arrangements. His funeral was going to cost $8500.00. I was stunned at the expense. I asked my mom if that was going to be a burden. And of course her response was – “Well no. We planned for this.” And then her eyes widen. “Oh, the drawer! Jack, go to the “tin foil” drawer and pull it out.”
I went to the kitchen and opened the drawer. I saw nothing but aluminum foil squares, zip lock bags and margarine tubs. “What am I looking for?”
“Pull the drawer entirely out of the counter.”
When I did, I noticed that the drawer was only about ½ as long what I expected it to be. When I looked into the cavity I noticed a Wonder Bread bag. I reached in and pulled the bag out. It was filled with twenty dollar bills.
When the teller stopped counting at $8,480 dollars, I was so touched by the irony that I reached into my pocket and handed her another twenty.
“This makes it $8500. Even. Just enough to “put him away” as he had planned.”
Thursday, November 27, 2008
What are you thankful for today?
In Thanksgiving:
Today, I am grateful for the gift of community. The search toward discovering my “true nature” has been a magnificent journey “within”. But I now get it. I now understand that the journey within is the direct route to the shared journey that we are all traveling together – out there – from the door steps of our soul to the ends of the Universe.
This time I, and I dare say, WE clearly see, and absolutely claim, that the catalyst for change – came from within. Not only have “we” been called – but we’ve been called “together” as a community. We each have unique and tremendous gifts to offer. Together we will weave the most magnificent tapestry of diversity, love and power. Thank you for sharing this journey with me. Thank you to all the friends, family, associates, colleagues, teachers, guides, oracles, and the One Power, One Mind and One Universe that is our community.
And so it is! - Rev. Jack
Looking Back To See Ahead - Rev. Jack Elliott
[From "Thinking Out Loud", Published by The Tracy Press, Wednesday November 20, 2008]
Another Saturday, another cup of Pete’s coffee and another burst of enthusiasm to put pen to paper – ok fingers to keyboard, to write another column.
Each column I write comes from the heart, and for many of you that really know me – know that it comes from some place more divinely inspired.
I rarely know what I’m going to say when I start typing – Spirit leads me to write – whatever I write. But somehow the words flow and somehow my “point of view, gets communicated within the required 750 words.
Typically, when I write, it’s as if I’m writing to my friends. I have a causal style – that of a “storyteller” rather than a “journalist”. It’s a style that works for me, and I think others enjoy it. Often I hear: “Did that really happen to you?” Or, “I can’t believe you were that honest – I could never say that.”
I especially like confronting myths, stereotypes and contradictions that I notice in society and in our community. And I use my own life experiences and relationships to illustrate such realities. Doing so send a message to those facing the same struggle to – keep the faith – keep your head up – keep a smile on your face, because you’re not going through this alone. I believe that God does not present us any challenge that we cannot push through, go around or rise above.
My intention is to make you think, so you can see things from another person’s point of view. I love the conversations that follow my column on the website. I love to see that my words provoke hearty conversations. I’m inspired that people, who once had a quieted voice, feel empowered to join the conversation.
All of this has been possible, because it has always been safe to “tell the truth” here in Tracy. In the six short years that I’ve lived here, I have truly felt – that I’m a part of the fabric of our community. So it’s in that spirit that I have to share my observations regarding the past election.
In my “His Voice” column (published on October 29th, in the Tracy Press) I made a heartfelt plea for you to support the No. on 8 Proposition. Again, I shared a person story hoping it would plant the seed of empathy. I received many wonderful supportive emails and notes and I received many emails from folks that absolutely refuse to see things from another point of view. That’s okay. It provoked conversation.
When the measure failed, many wrote to say: “Don’t despair Jack, it will be okay.” So, I want you to understand this: I’m not sad, or all disappointed that the No. on 8 Proposition failed. I’m motivated. The cause was only about 500,000 votes shy of passing, which means, there is just a few more folks to educate, to inspire and soon the tide will turn.
In the words of Minster's Joel Olsteen, and Amos Brown (as well as many others that have claimed it as their own...) "A set back, is just a set up for the most magnificent ultimate outcome."
I know for certain, that in time, gay marriage WILL BE. It’s just a matter of time. It will take just a little more time for the bigotry to be subdued by education and the clarity of insight from a younger generation that is tired of hearing the trite old lies told over and over again.
A younger GLBT generation will reap the benefits of being able to marry “whomever” they want to marry and they will not tolerate anyone telling them no. Why? Because of this:
On November 4th, the ceiling of “No, you are not entitled” was forever broken in the USA. Now, any child can say, “Yes I can!” Martin Luther King had a vision. He absolutely would not allow anyone to deny him his dream of an African American President and a world where “all of” God’s children would live in Unity – not as a “melting pot” but as a beautifully woven tapestry of diversity. Just over 40 years ago, contemplating an African American as President would have seemed – delusionary.
Therefore, I know with certainly that in a few years, someone will be reading the archives of Tracy's daily newspaper and will be amazed that there was a time in this little town, a black person could not legally marry a white person; Latinos (“the Nationals”) had to attend a separate movie theatre; and when someone was couldn’t marry the one they loved, just because they were of the same sex. They will shake their head in amazement that such a time once existed in such a loving little community.
Friday, October 17, 2008
Move One Rock
In August of 2008, I had published over 100 columns with the Tracy Press. The following article received the most email, phone calls and comments from folks I've run into. In these tough economic times it seemed to touch a cord with many many people. Many of you have asked that I post it here. Enjoy! - Rev. J
“If you want to change the direction of a waterfall –all you have to do is change (move) one rock.“
For me this metaphor offered by my mentor and psychologist, ignited an “ah ha” moment. It reminded me that when it feels like life is “out of control” we can shift the momentum by changing just one thing. Anything – the secret is to take action – just move one rock. Do something - anything. Then observe.
Using the analogy of the waterfall consider what might happen if the rock you move causes the waterfall to split and to go in two different directions. Perhaps the volume of water will be more “manageable” when the force of its delivery is cut in half. Perhaps the water now cascading off to the left is directed to a reservoir that will adequately contain and preserve it for a time when it is needed.
Perhaps, once the water fall is split into two, the void in the middle will reveal the valves and levers that control the pump, thrust, volume and the amount of water released – so you can now shut it off.
For many of us that last couple of years has been like that waterfall. Life (call it recession, real estate crisis, gas prices and/or job downsizing) has been coming at us like a torrent. Some of us have been swept away when we took our eye off our task – for others, the change came out of no where.
Many of us believe we are powerless and surrender to the current and let go and proclaiming “what will be - will be.” Others of us fight the good fight, but learn to late that they were fighting with brawn rather than with brain.
During the last couple of years, I have been drenched by the waterfall. I thought I had a plan. I thought I had life all figured out. But then the water came, I found my plan was obsolete and that I had no “plan B”.
The first wave to hit me was the reality that my 12-year, long-term relationship, was unraveling and coming to an end. I wasn’t prepared – I nearly drowned. Then a good buddy had a major stroke – wave two. I had not anticipated being a caretaker, but I took on the challenge – besides it distracted me from the pain of the first wave.
Wave three came when it was time to refinance the home I’d purchased for my partner and me. Values dropped and it would be impossible to refinance for the amount owed. For the first time in my life I was stunned by realities thrust upon me. Nothing was going to plan and I found myself isolating. I couldn’t preach, teach or write now – my life’s a mess!
When I found myself hovering near the same state of depression that enveloped my life right after 9/11/01, I immediately took action. I call my mentor and psychologist. In the very first session he reminded me of a teaching he’s used as a metaphor time after time: “If you want to change the direction of the waterfall –all you have to do is change one rock. “ Calling him was the demonstration of moving that first rock.
The second rock I moved was to call my mortgage holder. My broker and I laid out the facts. If she called the note due, she’d be getting a house back that she would not be able to sell for anything close to what was owed on it. She decided to “freeze” the note for two years.
Emotionally, I decided I needed to lease the house out for that two year period. I’d purchased the house for “us”, if it ever is to be “my” house – I needed some emotional distance - rock three. I called the landlady that owned the one place I’ve lived in Tracy where I felt good. It was vacant. Moving back was like coming home – rock four.
Now, in a testament of honesty, I must say the waterfall of life is still cascading my way faster than I want, but now I’m endeavoring to use my brain rather than my brawn to calculate which rock to move next. Everything in my life must be re-examined. What was true 18 months ago is not be true anymore. There’s a new reality. There are new rocks to be moved.
If you are experiencing a new reality yourself, know that even in the mist of ciaos you can still effect change. Don’t give up; don’t surrender; don’t let go - Just move one rock.
“If you want to change the direction of a waterfall –all you have to do is change (move) one rock.“
For me this metaphor offered by my mentor and psychologist, ignited an “ah ha” moment. It reminded me that when it feels like life is “out of control” we can shift the momentum by changing just one thing. Anything – the secret is to take action – just move one rock. Do something - anything. Then observe.
Using the analogy of the waterfall consider what might happen if the rock you move causes the waterfall to split and to go in two different directions. Perhaps the volume of water will be more “manageable” when the force of its delivery is cut in half. Perhaps the water now cascading off to the left is directed to a reservoir that will adequately contain and preserve it for a time when it is needed.
Perhaps, once the water fall is split into two, the void in the middle will reveal the valves and levers that control the pump, thrust, volume and the amount of water released – so you can now shut it off.
For many of us that last couple of years has been like that waterfall. Life (call it recession, real estate crisis, gas prices and/or job downsizing) has been coming at us like a torrent. Some of us have been swept away when we took our eye off our task – for others, the change came out of no where.
Many of us believe we are powerless and surrender to the current and let go and proclaiming “what will be - will be.” Others of us fight the good fight, but learn to late that they were fighting with brawn rather than with brain.
During the last couple of years, I have been drenched by the waterfall. I thought I had a plan. I thought I had life all figured out. But then the water came, I found my plan was obsolete and that I had no “plan B”.
The first wave to hit me was the reality that my 12-year, long-term relationship, was unraveling and coming to an end. I wasn’t prepared – I nearly drowned. Then a good buddy had a major stroke – wave two. I had not anticipated being a caretaker, but I took on the challenge – besides it distracted me from the pain of the first wave.
Wave three came when it was time to refinance the home I’d purchased for my partner and me. Values dropped and it would be impossible to refinance for the amount owed. For the first time in my life I was stunned by realities thrust upon me. Nothing was going to plan and I found myself isolating. I couldn’t preach, teach or write now – my life’s a mess!
When I found myself hovering near the same state of depression that enveloped my life right after 9/11/01, I immediately took action. I call my mentor and psychologist. In the very first session he reminded me of a teaching he’s used as a metaphor time after time: “If you want to change the direction of the waterfall –all you have to do is change one rock. “ Calling him was the demonstration of moving that first rock.
The second rock I moved was to call my mortgage holder. My broker and I laid out the facts. If she called the note due, she’d be getting a house back that she would not be able to sell for anything close to what was owed on it. She decided to “freeze” the note for two years.
Emotionally, I decided I needed to lease the house out for that two year period. I’d purchased the house for “us”, if it ever is to be “my” house – I needed some emotional distance - rock three. I called the landlady that owned the one place I’ve lived in Tracy where I felt good. It was vacant. Moving back was like coming home – rock four.
Now, in a testament of honesty, I must say the waterfall of life is still cascading my way faster than I want, but now I’m endeavoring to use my brain rather than my brawn to calculate which rock to move next. Everything in my life must be re-examined. What was true 18 months ago is not be true anymore. There’s a new reality. There are new rocks to be moved.
If you are experiencing a new reality yourself, know that even in the mist of ciaos you can still effect change. Don’t give up; don’t surrender; don’t let go - Just move one rock.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Keep Moving
My blackberry beeped at 11:15 p.m. indicating a new email message had just arrived. I was just preparing to plug the phone into the charger for the night and decided to look at the message – to see who I’d have to call back the following morning. I knew far well, I wouldn’t be responding now since I had been ignoring calls all weekend.
The email read: “I can’t take it anymore. The pills, the stress, and the financial burden of working and being sick at the same time - it’s just too much. Do you know anyone – anyone at all that can help me? – I’m thinking about ending it all.”
Instantly, my fatigue was gone. I quickly dashed to the computer and opened the email on the computer. Regretfully, I didn’t recognize the screen name. I responded back by saying: “If it is this bad – it can only get better. Write me back and tell me more about your situation, so I can address it or refer you to someone who can help.”
Instantly, I received an email back: “It’s all just too much.”
“No – keep talking to me!” But that was it - nothing more. The writer remained anonymous. Was it someone that had read my column? Was it someone I knew – and they just assumed I’d recognize there screen name? Did they know that I was clergy? Why me? Why did I receive this message?
Two hours passed then came another “beep” on my Blackberry. I had now taken the phone under the covers with me and while I had been asleep, I was immediately alert.
“What do you know about terminal illness – why would you care?”
That was it. Still not a clue as to who was writing me. I texted back the following:“I know that you are in pain. I know that you’ve reached out for help – but now you must help me – help you. At least send me your name.” With that, I hit send.
I waited for a response. Nothing. I starred at the phone for twenty minutes. “Come on – write me – let me know who you are!” I kept saying that over and over in my mind.
I woke with a jolt at 5:30 a.m. I quickly glanced at the phone. The red light was blinking. I had a new message. All it said was “Tony”.
“Tony, you must let me know more about your situation. Please let me help.” I hit send once again.
As I showered and prepared for the day ahead, I wondered what it must be like to have no one to reach out too. I’m blessed. I have a varied circle of friends and professional colleagues to reach out too when I’m depressed (even though I rarely do) - What must it be like to have no one?
“Beep” – another message: “I live in Concord. I have HIV. – I can’t take it anymore.”
Finally, information I could use. I immediately referred him to the Contra Costa County’s Department of health’s AIDS Services Program. I forwarded the emails to a social worker that I knew there so she could keep the contact alive. For now, my work was done. I was the “bridge”. Hopefully, I had helped.
I said a prayer, thanking God for allowing me to be a conduit for my anonymous emailer. As I prayed, I also wondered – why me? And why did I suddenly no longer feel depressed?
Then it hit me. I had spent the entire weekend – isolating. It’s what I do when I get depressed. I have to get away from those I love; I have to be alone to wrestle my demons. To me, depression feels like an elephant on my chest. It renders me immoveable. In order to crawl out of it - I have to crawl into it.
Over the years I‘ve learned to cope with it by not denying it, but I’ve yet to conquer it. I have even learned to sense its approach. Whenever I feel that it’s about to show up - I endeavor to keep moving. If I keep moving, sometimes I can avoid it, or once it arrives, it leaves more quickly. However, this past weekend – I was too tired to move and it consumed me. But this time, something else intervened. This time, receiving that email jolted it right out of me. Once I received that email – it was gone.
Perhaps the old adage is true – the best way to help your self is to help someone else. As I left the house this morning, I felt good again. I felt like the Jack I know. And then I reflected – was that why I got that email? Did the universe do what I couldn’t do on my own? Maybe so – I know one thing for sure, I’m glad that something bigger than me, intervened. Tony was helped – and so was I. When all else fails – keep praying and keep moving – go do something for someone else!
The email read: “I can’t take it anymore. The pills, the stress, and the financial burden of working and being sick at the same time - it’s just too much. Do you know anyone – anyone at all that can help me? – I’m thinking about ending it all.”
Instantly, my fatigue was gone. I quickly dashed to the computer and opened the email on the computer. Regretfully, I didn’t recognize the screen name. I responded back by saying: “If it is this bad – it can only get better. Write me back and tell me more about your situation, so I can address it or refer you to someone who can help.”
Instantly, I received an email back: “It’s all just too much.”
“No – keep talking to me!” But that was it - nothing more. The writer remained anonymous. Was it someone that had read my column? Was it someone I knew – and they just assumed I’d recognize there screen name? Did they know that I was clergy? Why me? Why did I receive this message?
Two hours passed then came another “beep” on my Blackberry. I had now taken the phone under the covers with me and while I had been asleep, I was immediately alert.
“What do you know about terminal illness – why would you care?”
That was it. Still not a clue as to who was writing me. I texted back the following:“I know that you are in pain. I know that you’ve reached out for help – but now you must help me – help you. At least send me your name.” With that, I hit send.
I waited for a response. Nothing. I starred at the phone for twenty minutes. “Come on – write me – let me know who you are!” I kept saying that over and over in my mind.
I woke with a jolt at 5:30 a.m. I quickly glanced at the phone. The red light was blinking. I had a new message. All it said was “Tony”.
“Tony, you must let me know more about your situation. Please let me help.” I hit send once again.
As I showered and prepared for the day ahead, I wondered what it must be like to have no one to reach out too. I’m blessed. I have a varied circle of friends and professional colleagues to reach out too when I’m depressed (even though I rarely do) - What must it be like to have no one?
“Beep” – another message: “I live in Concord. I have HIV. – I can’t take it anymore.”
Finally, information I could use. I immediately referred him to the Contra Costa County’s Department of health’s AIDS Services Program. I forwarded the emails to a social worker that I knew there so she could keep the contact alive. For now, my work was done. I was the “bridge”. Hopefully, I had helped.
I said a prayer, thanking God for allowing me to be a conduit for my anonymous emailer. As I prayed, I also wondered – why me? And why did I suddenly no longer feel depressed?
Then it hit me. I had spent the entire weekend – isolating. It’s what I do when I get depressed. I have to get away from those I love; I have to be alone to wrestle my demons. To me, depression feels like an elephant on my chest. It renders me immoveable. In order to crawl out of it - I have to crawl into it.
Over the years I‘ve learned to cope with it by not denying it, but I’ve yet to conquer it. I have even learned to sense its approach. Whenever I feel that it’s about to show up - I endeavor to keep moving. If I keep moving, sometimes I can avoid it, or once it arrives, it leaves more quickly. However, this past weekend – I was too tired to move and it consumed me. But this time, something else intervened. This time, receiving that email jolted it right out of me. Once I received that email – it was gone.
Perhaps the old adage is true – the best way to help your self is to help someone else. As I left the house this morning, I felt good again. I felt like the Jack I know. And then I reflected – was that why I got that email? Did the universe do what I couldn’t do on my own? Maybe so – I know one thing for sure, I’m glad that something bigger than me, intervened. Tony was helped – and so was I. When all else fails – keep praying and keep moving – go do something for someone else!
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