Poetic Justice (Buddy Mondlock/Tom Kimmel)

I received a lovely card a few weeks ago from my former UU congregation (MollyL's handwriting, I'm pretty sure), wishing me a Happy Birthday and inviting me to their upcoming David Fisher Memorial Annual Poetry Service, via Zoom, which I had coordinated for the previous nine years.  I think I surprised everyone by showing up, and we were all mutually glad to see each other.  It was delightful to view everyone's faces, especially Rev. Susan, who is recovering from a tragic car accident, and the usual cast of poets/readers:  Alfredo, Gary, Sarah/Birch, Jerry... as well as a few newcomers.

As I had spoken from the pulpit for many years running, updating the math:

If you began attending or visiting the UU Church of Ft. Lauderdale after June 26, 2010 (the date of David Fisher’s passing, at the age of 81), you may be wondering who he was and why this service is a memorial to him.  During Coffee Hour after today’s service, you should approach one of our long-term members and ask them to tell you a David Fisher story.

In the meantime, here’s the 75-words-or-less answer:  David Fisher graduated college with a philosophy degree, he did two years of Army service, he was a doctor (practicing internal medicine), he was a minister, he was a college professor, he was a psychiatrist, he was a member of our Sunday Services Committee, and he was our choir director from 2003-2009.  He was a brother, a father, a grandfather… and he was in a long-term committed relationship with his partner Paul. 

Rev. Gail (our previous minister) said "he was one of the most graceful, gracious, grace-filled people I ever met” with the "unique ability to live lightly in the world and have great impact.  He was a minister in every aspect of his life.” 

David and I shared a love of verse… and his annual poetry service was always a spiritual experience.  I had volunteered to help coordinate the last one (April 2010) since David’s health issues were becoming a factor… and he had actually been in the hospital the week before the service. However, he pushed to be discharged the day prior, which made our collaboration even more inspiring and joyful… 

In his absence, this is my ninth year coordinating, and I am beyond honored to have taken up the baton, to make sure this service remains an annual event. 

However, this service is about so much more than poetry.  We here at the UUCFL are rich:  in tradition (remember Noralee’s cat poems?)… in community (look how many of you chose to attend and/or participate)… and in memories (David Fisher would be proud).

Here's/cheers to David, and to the many who carry on his legacy.  I certainly vow to continue!


SONG:  Poetic Justice by Buddy Mondlock and Tom Kimmel

BOOK:  The Carrying by Ada Limón (here's a wonderful interview with the poet, who was new to me before Sunday's service... 💖)

POEM:  This Day, O Soul by Walt Whitman

This day, O soul, I give you a wondrous mirror;
Long in the dark, in tarnish and cloud it lay—But the cloud
has pass'd, and the tarnish gone;
…Behold, O soul! it is now a clean and bright mirror,
Faithfully showing you all the things of the world.

QUOTE(S):  "Who knows anyway what it is, that wild, silky part of ourselves without which no poem can live?" ~ Mary Oliver

"Poetry is the journal of the sea animal living on land, wanting to fly in the air. Poetry is a search for syllables to shoot at the barriers of the unknown and the unknowable. Poetry is a phantom script telling how rainbows are made and why they go away." ~ by Carl Sandburg

Break the Cup (Buddy Mondlock)

My favorite chapter from the book below seems to sum up my attitude after this last week of struggle:

"See the Glass as Already Broken (and Everything Else Too)

This is a Buddhist teaching that I learned over twenty years ago. It has provided me, again and again, with greatly -needed perspective to guide me toward my goal of a more accepting self.

The essence of this teaching is that all of life is in a constant state of change. Everything has a beginning and everything has an end. Every tree begins with a seed and will eventually transform back into earth. Every rock is formed and every rock will vanish. In our modern world, this means that every car, every machine, every piece of clothing is created and all will wear out and crumble; it's only a matter of when. Our bodies are born and they will die. A glass is created and will eventually break.

There is peace to be found in this teaching. When you expect something to break, you're not surprised or disappointed when it does. Instead of becoming immobilized when something is destroyed, you feel grateful for the time you have had.

The easiest place to start is with the simple things, a glass of water, for example. Pull out your favorite drinking glass. Take a moment to look at and appreciate its beauty and all it does for you. Now, imagine that same glass as already broken, shattered all over the floor. Try to maintain the perspective that, in time, everything disintegrates and returns to its initial form.

Obviously, no one wants their favorite drinking glass, or anything else, to be broken. This philosophy is not a prescription for becoming passive or apathetic, but for making peace with the way things are. When your drinking glass does break, this philosophy allows you to maintain your perspective. Rather than thinking, "oh my god", you'll find yourself thinking, "ah, there it goes". Play with this awareness and you'll find yourself not only keeping your cool but appreciating life as never before."

P.S. I've googled myself silly and can't seem to find Buddy Mondlock's lyrics anywhere - do yourself a favor and go to his website to familiarize yourself with an extraordinary songwriter (soft voice, huge heart... :-)

SONG: Break the Cup by Buddy Mondlock

BOOK: Don't Sweat the Small Stuff--and it's all small stuff by Richard Carlson

POEM: Advice to Myself by Louise Erdich

Leave the dishes.

Let the celery rot in the bottom drawer of the refrigerator

and an earthen scum harden on the kitchen floor.

Leave the black crumbs in the bottom of the toaster.

Throw the cracked bowl out and don't patch the cup.

Don't patch anything. Don't mend. Buy safety pins.

Don't even sew on a button.

Let the wind have its way, then the earth

that invades as dust and then the dead

foaming up in gray rolls underneath the couch.

Talk to them. Tell them they are welcome.

Don't keep all the pieces of the puzzles

or the doll's tiny shoes in pairs, don't worry

who uses whose toothbrush or if anything

matches, at all.

Except one word to another. Or a thought.

Pursue the authentic - decide first

what is authentic,

then go after it with all your heart.

Your heart, that place

you don't even think of cleaning out.

That closet stuffed with savage mementos.

Don't sort the paper clips from screws from saved baby teeth

or worry if we're all eating cereal for dinner

again. Don't answer the telephone, ever,

or weep over anything at all that breaks.

Pink molds will grow within those sealed cartons

in the refrigerator. Accept new forms of life

and talk to the dead

who drift in though the screened windows, who collect

patiently on the tops of food jars and books.

Recycle the mail, don't read it, don't read anything

except what destroys

the insulation between yourself and your experience

or what pulls down or what strikes at or what shatters

this ruse you call necessity.

QUOTE: "My theory on housework is, if the item doesn't multiply, smell, catch fire, or block the refrigerator door, let it be. No one else cares. Why should you?" ~ Erma Bombeck