Invisible Work
Because no one could ever praise me enough,
because I don’t mean only these poems but the unseen
unbelievable effort it takes to live
the life that goes on between them,
I think all the time about invisible work,
about the single mother on welfare I talked to
years ago, who said, “It’s hard.
You bring him to the park, run rings
around yourself keeping him safe,
cut hot dogs into bite-sized pieces for dinner, and there’s no one
to say what a good job you’re doing, how you were
patient and loving for the ten
thousandth time, even though you had a headache.”
And I, who am used
to feeling sorry for myself because I am lonely
when all the while, as the Chippewa
poem says, I am being carried
by great winds across the sky,
think of the invisible work that stitches up the world
day and night, the slow, unglamorous
tunnel ceaselessly so the earth can breathe and bees
enter and leave their lovers like exhausted Don Juans while owls
and poets stalk shadows, our
loneliest labors under the moon. There are mothers
for everything, and the sea
is a mother too,
whispering and whispering to us long
after we have stopped
listening. I stop and let myself lean
a moment against the blue
shoulder of the air. The work
of my heart
is the work of the world’s
heart. There is no other art. ...Alison Luterman
To ask what MATTERS is to ask what is of utmost importance to a
being. If someone can’t tell you, you can find out, they say, by looking at
their checkbook or their calendar. I imagine today it would be their Smart
phone.
I would answer the question this way:
I would say both nothing matters AND everything matters.
The word matter is ancient and multi-layered.
Besides substance it also means potential.
It comes from the root as MATRIX and MOTHER
And matrix means, among other things, WOMB.
There is no sense in which we can divorce our theological and
philosophical understanding of life and death from the matrix into which we
were born. Even if we were to divorce ourselves from that matrix, we would
still have a theology based upon rejection, which is still a belief system.
Everyone believes in something, or as Dylan sang, you have to serve
somebody.
So: matter.
For me, when I am practicing contemplation and mindfulness,
what does NOT matter is winning the lottery, what kind of car someone drives,
titles and honorifics.
What matters is the tear on the cheek of one child, the fate of
even one child going hungry or separated from their mother, or getting killed
in a school shooting or a bomb blast, being abused or neglected, be it in
Syria, at the Mexico border, or here in Tennessee. The well-being of creatures,
the worms in the garden, the bees and the owls, one moment of connection, one
second of peace. Love matters. Truth matters.
But that is when I am disciplined and diligent. Other times, I go
on the web and buy a new sweater.
What matters to you?
Because no one could ever praise me enough,
because I don’t mean only these poems but the unseen
unbelievable effort it takes to live
the life that goes on between them,
I think all the time about invisible work,
Who does this invisible work?
Here’s an example from our own Unitarian heritage:
The day he was taken by the Nazis in Prague, Dr.
Norbert Capek preached as usual to his congregation, using metaphor as many
Unitarian ministers did in Hungary, Romania and Czechoslovakia. He preached as
storm troopers stood in the back of his church.
We all know that this is the worst winter
in our history and the ground is terribly frozen. We also know that Spring must
come and the seeds now buried will sprout and bloom again.
Of course, the Nazis knew this was code, as it was not
Winter but Spring, and the 72-year-old man was arrested and sent to Dachau
where he was the victim of cruel medical experiments as well as the gas
chamber. For practicing this faith, our faith of freedom and humanitarianism.
He never gave up. Even in the camp, he led church services and continued to
compose hymns for his fellow. Invisible work.
What we do, and refuse to do, matters. Our attention
becomes intention. Our attention is what moves us from intention to action.
Bumper sticker: What you do matters. (Holocaust Museum)
What do you do?
And I, who am used
to feeling sorry for myself because I am lonely
when all the while, as the Chippewa
poem says, I am being carried
by great winds across the sky,
think of the invisible work that stitches up the world
day and night, the slow, unglamorous
work
of healing…
And,
words matter.
Words.
Like “though” and “intimidated”.
Words
like “bad news” and “investigate”.
One
word can cause deep wounds, another word can heal and repair.
The
word “matter” matters.
Black
Lives matter. This movement was brilliant in many ways. The opposite of
black lives MATTER is not All Lives Matter. The opposite is Black
Lives Don’t Matter. I will tell you that black lives didn’t matter to me
for my first few decades of life. I neither lived near nor knew any person of
color, other than our housekeeper, Emma, almost nothing was taught us in school
even though it was at the height of the Civil Rights movement, nor did my family
of origin affirm black lives in any way. I lived about two miles away from the
AME church where the impetus for the Mt. Laurel decision was formed. Attention
became intention which became ontological results. Nearby is Jacob's Chapel, a stop on the Underground RR as I suspect my family home may have been.
Click here for more on the Mt. Laurel Doctrine.
Click here for more on the Mt. Laurel Doctrine.
 |
| Jacob's Chapel AME Church. Genesis of Mt. Laurel Decision |
The
phrase and the movement Black Lives Matter pleads with us to see the
myriad ways in which the institutions of this society, this matrix in
which we exist, education, government, real estate, religion, law enforcement,
justice, health and wellness, even entertainment and the arts, have neglected,
trampled over, and treated as less than human persons of color. I find it hard
to believe that any educated white person could review their life and not see
this, not comprehend the privilege which they have been granted, the doors that
were open to them and closed to others, the suspicions placed on others but not
on them. We have been trained and have trained ourselves to neither review nor
acknowledge these things. Again, only a discipline and a mindfulness will
keep us alert to this
pleading.
pleading.
 |
| Cain Family Home 1940-2018 |
There are mothers
for everything, and the sea
is a mother too,
whispering and whispering to us long
after we have stopped
listening. I stop and let myself lean
a moment against the blue
shoulder
of the air
What
this small congregation does matters. Our intention to love and heal comes
through when intention becomes attention and the invisible work of housing,
feeding and caring for the least among us. Our attention turns what matters
into substances, food, mattresses, conversation, socks and toothbrushes.
Listening
matters. Giving our full attention to the other.
How can you pay attention?
The
work
of
my heart
is
the work of the world’s heart
There
is no other art.
What is the work of your heart? Will you stop long enough to hear
it?
