Holiness in our Midst

May 2024

Story Circle Prompt: What was your experience of the April 8, 2024 eclipse…or a previous one?

My answer is in this essay, a version of which appeared in the Sunday, April 21 Ames Tribune: 

How, then, do I live? I live to neighbor

This was the juxtaposition of events: I had just witnessed the solar eclipse the Monday before and was approaching my morning rounds still filled with celestial wonder. On Friday, April 12, 2024, I finally had a pure day off, one free from work and other obligations.

I had recently finished the thoughtful book “How Do You Live?” by Japanese author Genzaburo Yoshino and translated by Bruno Navasky, a novel first published in 1937. As a teenage boy ponders life’s big questions, he is mentored by a young uncle, who employs history, geography, physics, and ethics to instruct him about living a great life.

First stop: Casey’s on Lincoln Way in Nevada. Talk still centered around the awesomeness of the eclipse, lending sacredness to my routine. The staff knows me as a “regular” and makes sure my wavy cheddar sour cream potato chips, zero sugar orange pop, and daily papers are stocked. We share ups and downs; life and death are constants in my work as a server in an assisted living center.

Then off to breakfast at LaFinquita (meaning “the little farm”), the Mexican restaurant on Highway 30 up the road near Colo. It had been at least five years since I frequented this space; most recently, it had been The Country House. Over a Chilango omelet (with extra pico de gallo), I pondered the next five years: Who will have won the 2024 Presidential election? What if the Party I Don’t Want to be in Power wins? Will rights be added or taken away? Will journalists be allowed to write freely? Will America be at war? (As a news junkie, I am all too aware that Ukraine and Gaza are relatively recent household words.) Will another virus go awry? Fortunately, my “what-iffing” was tempered by a good chat with my waiter Mario Flores, whose family from Honduras owns the restaurant.

Next stop: The Colo Public Library. Spending 15 minutes there, I witnessed true community as we loyal patrons engaged in book talk covering multiple genres. I shared about the book on my mind, which falls into the young adult category. “It has lots of parallels for our times,” I asserted. As I left with a big bundle of Amish novels (and an historical fiction novel recommended by library assistant Pam), librarian Joanie Jamison offered me a cookie in celebration of National Library Week. “They’re from Bricktown Bakery in Nevada,” she proclaimed. She, too, is a neighbor-er and promoter of good books, local places, and big ideas.

Back home in Nevada for lunch. My reflections were a variation on the title of my book-of-the-moment: How do I live my life? It seems I live to neighbor. As I munched on my library cookie, a miniature work of art featuring white icing and sprinkles with the word READ piped in red, I paused to be grateful for my daily rounds of precious stories. I realized the convenience store line, the restaurant booth, the library setting, and the prep station at work can be platforms for building community. The stories that wash up on the shores of the oceans of our minds each day are beautiful seashells meant to be shared. In the telling, neighborliness and goodwill can prevail.

I am eternally grateful to my co-worker Ray: On April 8, she met me at the door, thrust a pair of dark sunglasses with confetti-colored frames into my hands, and said: “I’ve been waiting for you. You have to see the eclipse.” I immediately fell under the solar eclipse’s primordial spell, knowing my Earth time would probably be used up by the time the next one rolls around in 2044. I can still feel the pull of forces and powers that measure time in eons, not just campaign seasons. There are spiritual mysteries that unite all of us, whatever lever we pull in the voting booth. I will still be transfixed for weeks and months, guided by this quote from “How Do You Live?”: “We are all human beings, so if we can’t all live a life that is truly human, something is wrong. A society that does not allow this is wrong.” 

FOR PERSONAL/JOURNAL REFLECTION:

1. Read the above reflection. In your journal, answer the question: Are you fascinated by outer space? Why or why not?

FOR GROUP STUDY:

1. Read aloud Session CXL.

2. Ask each person to answer the Story Circle Prompt.

April 2024

Story circle question: Where is your querencia?

The origin story of this question began last month at Café Diem, a true coffee house established in 2000, a mainstay in downtown Ames often frequented by Iowa State University students and faculty. A longtime friend and I were reminiscing about all the brunches and lunches we had savored in this place. Our interactions alone took quite some time to revisit: Books and poems exchanged. Smoothies and salads consumed. Community events planned. Ideas advanced to make the world a better place. If the walls could speak of all that has transpired in this place—including folk concerts and poetry slams—what would they say? we wondered. 

It was then that we noticed that patrons had tucked actual notes into the wall. What did the walls have to say? I took the closest one out. It was in French; I rolled it back up and put it back. I was a little hesitant to try again. Would it be a message of goodwill or possibly hate? But this is what the next note said:

Querencia (Spanish)

(Noun) a place from which one’s strength and character is drawn, where one feels at home, where one is their most authentic self.

I hope that you find your querencia!

Hmm! Upon reflection, my querencias are places where I can share without fear of judgment what is really going on in my life: what I am reading, thinking, dreaming, yearning for. This happens most often at retreat centers and restaurant tables where ideas are exchanged. Usually there is coffee involved! Café Diem and Perkins Family Restaurant in Ames, and Niland’s Café in Colo are a few of the places where I feel most at home, where meals with friends, functionally, become workshops! 

Since discovering this note, I’m less leery of passersby. I carry a newfound sense that strangers overwhelmingly want peace and love for all…and wish that I find safety in this world. 

And so, I pass the message of hope along and ask you: Where is your querencia?

FOR PERSONAL/JOURNAL REFLECTION:

1. Read the above reflection. Think of a place with walls that has deep meaning to you. If those walls could talk, what would they say. Answer in your journal.

FOR GROUP STUDY:

1. Reak aloud Session CXXXIX.

2. Ask each person to answer the Story Circle Prompt.