Mystical Murmurs: My Interfaith Life

I took a day off earlier this week, and went to the beach with one of my dearest friends, who dates back to college. The last time we were there together was the summer of 1977, another hot one right before I left town for grad school. I'm sure we were a picture, among the thong-bikini-clad high-school girls: two women, well into middle age, wading in the surf in their shorts. Oh well, youth fades, but friendships remain. And I learned something I hadn't counted on. My friend has known for years how involved I am at church, but she's a former Catholic, and I haven't wanted to go overboard talking about religion. But we did start talking about it on the way home, and I told her about my association with the Order of Julian of Norwich, and how much it has meant to me to find a group of like-minded people. I also told her about this blog, and that I'd started it because I had no one at home with whom I could discuss religion. "I haven't got anyone either,&qu

Today was the feast of Lammas Day in medieval England. The word lammas is probably derived from the Anglo-Saxon hlaef-maesse, or "loaf-mass, " a celebration of first-fruits. On this day, August 1, it was customary to bring a newly-baked loaf to church, so that the first wheat harvest could be blessed. Lammas was originally a pagan feast, and, falling between the summer solstice and the autumn equinox, signalled the beginning of autumn in early England. After Lammastide, people expected the days to become shorter as the year waned. Winter actually began on October 31! It's 90 degress or so here, and will be even hotter during the next few days -- not very autumnal! Nevertheless, I always feel more cheerful when August arrives. It's the beginning of the end of summer. There's something different about the light, somehow, as we move through August; and, of course, the days get slowly shorter. It won't be fall here for quite awhile, but never mind ... I'l

The Mardi Gras scene to the left is one I did not see on my recent trip to New Orleans but would love to return for. I had a lot of fun, though we had tropical downpours nearly every day, and the occasional thunderstorm in the morning. The food was great, and I got a really lovely piece of needlepoint canvas at a shop called the Quarter Stitch -- where I went in a cab because it was, as usual, raining. The New Orleanians I met were glad to see us. One of our convention bus drivers expressed his relief that conventions have begun to return to the city in significant numbers. So we were glad to be able to help with that. Now, back at home, we are in the dog days of summer, which I have just learned extend from July 3 to August 11 -- we are nearly halfway through. That should be some consolation. But I have no energy and no focus, and am longing for fall!

Tomorrow morning I'm heading off to New Orleans for a library conference, so I probably won't be blogging for a bit. I feel guilty going out in the evenings for a good time in a city that has suffered so much, especially since I know I probably won't even leave the relatively undamaged French Quarter. On the other hand, I will be spending considerable amounts of my employer's money, and some of my own, while I'm there, and I know the area needs tourism. Still, I feel uneasy about the whole trip. So I might be letting the good times roll, but I'll be saying a lot of prayers, too, especially if I can find a nearby Episcopal Church.

OK, I'll admit it. I've been slacking. I know I should be blogging about spiritual matters, but the fact is, I'm tapped out. I really struggle to get through summer. Now, I know how silly that sounds! My dad suffered in the winter from seasonal affective disorder (SAD), but I don't think there's an equivalent diagnosis for those who find summer days tediously endless. But that describes me. I loathe heat and humidity, both of which we normally have in abundance here. I love the beach, but never seem to get there. I come home from work and sit on the porch in a funk, reading pulp fiction to pass the time. I don't think I'm depressed; I'm just not inspired. It's also true that the Church on the Pike cycles way back during this time of year. The Rector takes a long vacation; while he's gone, we either have supply priests, if they're available, or we do Morning Prayer. Small groups also tend to go on hiatus. The choir is having a rest. I had a