Brother Cooper's House

I clearly remember the hours I spent as a child, staring at the closet door from the vantage of my bed, too scared to close my eyes, wondering if it would be safe to cross to my bedroom door and make a break for my mother's room. Sure, I was young, imaginative, prone to nightmares. But there was something in that closet.

Twenty years later, I still watch for monsters in the closet. I shouldn't be afraid of the dark anymore, but these monsters find me anyway. They haunt the closets of almost any house I enter. They wait for me, fangs dripping, mangled fur pressed against my coats and shoes. They are the specters of internal fears, of threats levied against my fragile sense of belonging. They bring with them a lifetime of fear and insecurity, of never knowing when the next blow would fall, the next safety net vanish.

And so, among the other gifts you gave to me, the advice, the blessing, the bed large enough to stretch my full length upon, I've one more thing to thank you for.

I lived in your house for six full months, and there were no monsters in your closets.

How I found God in the temple of the Goddess.

I distinctly remember the worst day I had in India. I am certain I always will. For reasons I have struggled with but ultimately forgiven, on that hot day in Tamil Nadu I found myself alone, heartbroken, and lost in a city of almost two million people. On that day I had no familiar members of my own faith to turn to. For that one day I was alone, outside of anything familiar or comforting, and devastated. 

But I wasn't alone, after all. All unbidden a handful of total strangers reached out and held me up. A man on a motorcycle noticed a lost girl and helped her find her way. A business man at the temple approached a strange girl to share the blessings of his religion with her and led her into a circle of faith otherwise closed to her. A woman with problems and pains of her own spent the afternoon speaking in broken sentences and strange new gestures to a girl who, though visiting in that country, did not speak the local dialect and could not communicate with anyone else there.  

While I do not believe, as my Hindu friends have told me, that all roads lead to God. I do believe, that decency is at the heart of humanity. And maybe, just maybe, we're talking about the same thing.

Resolutionativity

The thing about New Year's Resolutions is that a year always seems like the wrong time-frame for a truly effective goal. For example, you want to be more patient and less easily provoked this year? Awesome, but why only for a year? Isn't that more of a life long goal? And if you are using this year just as a sort of measuring device for that goal, well, you can bet you'll forget if you don't break it down into more manageable bites of time. Or, let's say you want to get a gym membership. Umm...if that takes you a whole year to do, you are using the wrong gym. In general, signing up for a membership takes about half an hour or less. Now, they'll take money directly from your bank account every month for a year (at least) but that's more a goal for them than for you, isn't it? I like my goals to fit into one of three categories: weekly, monthly, and lifely (so totally a word, right?). But, if you're the type to set a New Year Resolution, well, I won't look down on you for it. (I'll laugh at you behind your back, for sure, but look down? Never.)

And for the time being, here is my resolution, which I like to think of as a lifely goal:

Eat more fresh produce.

What, you were expecting something deeper and more pensive? Vegetables are the fa-shizzle people. The fa-shizzle.