tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37300715955902056252024-03-13T02:26:20.213-06:00More Meredith GouldQuirky wit and wisdom from award-winning author and mixed media mosaic artist, Meredith Gould. Posts about art, creativity, faith, and practical spirituality.Meredith Gouldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16260267368064065843noreply@blogger.comBlogger769125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3730071595590205625.post-9068278970080456902020-04-21T14:50:00.000-06:002020-04-21T14:53:06.864-06:00I'm Back. Sorta. Maybe.<h3 style="text-align: center;">
<i>See the headline?</i></h3>
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That's the post.</h3>
Meredith Gouldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16260267368064065843noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3730071595590205625.post-16505244905315178912018-12-26T15:23:00.000-07:002018-12-26T23:46:14.702-07:00Pop-Up Gallery RevelationsIf "pop-up" galleries and shops were a thing during the early 1970s, I was too busy mangling mechanicals with Letraset transfer lettering to know about them. And after being laid off (<i>aka</i>, fired) from that job, I took a 40+ year break from artwork to explore the Life of the Mind.<span style="color: orange;"><b>*</b></span><br />
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As it turns out, pop-up or flash retailing first arrived on the scene in 1997 when Patrick Corrielche created <i>The Ritual Expo</i> in Los Angeles. I didn't know any of this before artist Amy Baca Lopez invited me to join a lunch-time pop-up during November and December.<br />
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Among its many enchantments, Albuquerque has a mayor, Tim Keller, who understands how the arts can play a vital role in urban redevelopment. Amy and designer Danny Hart were organizing <i>The Goods</i> at a prime downtown location donated by the city. How cool was that? Very.<br />
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Had it been since 1970 or 1971 that I'd hung artwork publically? Weep-worthy to contemplate in either case, which is exactly what I did when they said, "Sure, hang your stuff."<br />
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Good thing I consider myself a lifelong learner. I had a lot to learn and learned a lot. We closed down <i>The Goods</i> on Sunday, December 23 so I'm still processing the experience. More will be revealed but here's what I've discovered thus far: <i>Pop-ups require loads of energy on all levels—body, mind, and spirit.</i><br />
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<li><i>Hauling, setting up, and dismantling displays are super-physical.</i> My mosaics are small and light enough to haul in smallish boxes (H/T Chewy.com!). Revelation: Think carefully about the practical consequences of working larger and heavier. Also, tools, tags, tape, and packing materials are essential. Fortuitously, I prefer working small and already own tools.</li>
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<li><i>Figuring out where and how to arrange artwork involves strategic as well as tactical thinking. </i>Revelation: The visibility of (some) wall art could be enhanced by being displayed on a table. Also, consider traffic patterns and who else is showing what-all before choosing display space. I probably should've brought in a table and avoided hanging anything near the side door.</li>
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<li><i>Predicting who will like and buy anything is </i>almost <i>unpredictable. </i>Revelation: Be grateful for the thick skin developed as a working writer and published author. Also, be grateful that pop-ups provide an opportunity for market intel. Turns out I'm more grateful than I give myself credit for being. I loved noticing who walked right by my work (N=too many to count) and who made a beeline for it (N=5). I've used these data to figure out my probable niche. </li>
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Will I participate in another pop-up any time soon? Time will tell. For now, I'm feeling called to refocus on what I'm creating. I <i>do </i>know that I'm looking forward to wandering through future pop-ups to meet other artists, chat with people I would not otherwise meet, and to fall even more in love with my new home.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXAJJJ43l4KuCmBk4WZyoY_MYVH9gSHoBrThUVF-0xvfp3oORd3SIdx-CqxkN-zOKVdWH_gxiagmCb75pOvDHRSokRUNX5vrzikHBYBOAtuwBbm8_J9y5B_keTpf3LyG3QMJGOM_V7FIoH/s1600/Me%2526Amy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXAJJJ43l4KuCmBk4WZyoY_MYVH9gSHoBrThUVF-0xvfp3oORd3SIdx-CqxkN-zOKVdWH_gxiagmCb75pOvDHRSokRUNX5vrzikHBYBOAtuwBbm8_J9y5B_keTpf3LyG3QMJGOM_V7FIoH/s320/Me%2526Amy.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me & Amy Baca Lopez</td></tr>
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<i style="font-size: small;">Learn more about:</i><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">> <a href="http://bit.ly/2ER81TQ" target="_blank">Patrick Corrielche</a></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">> <a href="http://bit.ly/2EOiQWM" target="_blank">Pop-up Retail</a></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">> <a href="http://bit.ly/2EMje8k" target="_blank">Amy Baca Lopez</a></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">> <a href="https://dannyhartdesign.com/" target="_blank">Danny Hart Design</a></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">> Albuquerque </span><a href="http://bit.ly/2EOg588" style="font-size: small;" target="_blank">Mayor Tim Keller</a><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">> The </span><a href="http://bit.ly/2qlOQdu" style="font-size: small;" target="_blank">distinction between writing and authorship</a><span style="font-size: x-small;">.</span><br />
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<b><span style="color: orange;">*</span></b>Not<i> </i>to be confused with "Mindful Living."Meredith Gouldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16260267368064065843noreply@blogger.comAlbuquerque, NM, USA35.0843859 -106.6504219999999934.6685819 -107.295869 35.5001899 -106.00497499999999tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3730071595590205625.post-44050069388006505392018-12-10T00:01:00.002-07:002018-12-11T10:06:00.283-07:00Work In Progress Right Here and NowMany changes for me within the past two years.<br />
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I seriously doubt anyone would've guessed I'd move to Albuquerque in June after visiting in May. I certainly didn't see <i>that </i>one coming.<br />
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As for my two most significant life changes since 2016, <i>viz.</i> returning to core identities as artist and Jew, those were probably predictable. By psychotherapists over the years. But maybe also by you? After all, I did write about <a href="https://meredithgould.blogspot.com/2017/08/what-now-mixed-media-mosaics.html">the mosaic thing</a> and got three posts about "<a href="https://meredithgould.blogspot.com/search/label/activism">Politics, Identity, and Activism</a>" up here in May 2017.<br />
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Since then, crickets and that, too, is about to change.<br />
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Refocusing and redesigning this blog is on my list of things to do before we get too much further into 5779 and 2019 C.E. begins--in three weeks!<br />
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Meanwhile, if you have the time and inclination, here's a lengthy conversation (read: soliloquy) I had with artist and teacher, <a href="https://www.facebook.com/SadelleWiltshireArt/?__tn__=kCH-R&eid=ARB1kRpSj1n3V5UhblHBLi4nTQa_WLYkWb_luks7MH2mNaFqL8ecxCr4RfeWRCIvHDTZzVuV9jpAyOkm&hc_ref=ARRmZo_1L6KPh1LG_y7j9eRYX08ED_3b24H8x0gb_yqCaNZA6S0YgxSGNFecilQPsA8&fref=nf">Sadelle Wiltshire</a> for her series about <i>Creativity and Faith:</i><br />
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<iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/u-7P3nO6Zl8" width="460"></iframe></div>
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<i>To see what I'm up to with mixed media mosaics, visit: </i><a href="http://www.meditativemosaics.com/">http://www.meditativemosaics.com</a><br />
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<i>To see artwork in progress plus pictures of cats and food, follow me on</i> <a href="https://www.instagram.com/themeredithgould/">Instagram</a>.<br />
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More will be revealed here but it's already pushing midnight (Mountain Time) and I've promised myself to get to sleep by 1:30am instead of 3:00am.Meredith Gouldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16260267368064065843noreply@blogger.comAlbuquerque, NM 87104, USA35.1029697 -106.670396335.0510072 -106.75107729999999 35.154932200000005 -106.5897153tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3730071595590205625.post-46217006683016629502017-08-15T15:15:00.000-06:002017-08-15T15:15:09.528-06:00What Now? Mixed Media Mosaics!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
When and for how long I studied art and created artwork is another story for another time.<span style="color: #134f5c;"><b>*</b> </span>Let the record show that this, the summer of 2017, is when I came under the thrall of mixed media mosaics. </div>
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Working with tiles, glass, beads, and assorted goodies I've collected over the years, I'm focused on creating (small) labyrinths and hamsas. Why those images? That, too, is another story for another time but these foci should come as no news to anyone who has followed me on Pinterest for years. Or visited my website. Or noticed my Facebook profile headers, at least ones posted before last November's election.</div>
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So this is what's happening now. Here are some substandard images that look better on Instagram. The mosaics will look a lot better when I reshoot them with a good camera.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR-RHSyvIyf4FSuALOj6OfczPuNU8Sf0goPxK9LQVa7j9B_p0kHvnMe_XGZX07b5LVfSMrswoda-peXYEmFbuOnn1IAbz5c2WW1kSFaGtvhfdVp1DLg8Ua6_zU2TKw9cx9pzigiSJUSmfG/s1600/1stLabyrinthCollage.July2017.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="514" data-original-width="1560" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR-RHSyvIyf4FSuALOj6OfczPuNU8Sf0goPxK9LQVa7j9B_p0kHvnMe_XGZX07b5LVfSMrswoda-peXYEmFbuOnn1IAbz5c2WW1kSFaGtvhfdVp1DLg8Ua6_zU2TKw9cx9pzigiSJUSmfG/s400/1stLabyrinthCollage.July2017.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>5"x 5" Square</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_KKha2wTtiDhVlk6foYSvLxxBiQAa4OJnZMc_7SbRFBwK4BywOEkRryzN6v93lW83G0nALdXNf1BFUxrkfurM-qy1Qr3qe4wFIVOROeMRw5TBiQUvGR5i2ToLVthQKE3-4yDESzjG6DzK/s1600/2ndLabyrinthCollage.August2017.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="362" data-original-width="1560" height="91" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_KKha2wTtiDhVlk6foYSvLxxBiQAa4OJnZMc_7SbRFBwK4BywOEkRryzN6v93lW83G0nALdXNf1BFUxrkfurM-qy1Qr3qe4wFIVOROeMRw5TBiQUvGR5i2ToLVthQKE3-4yDESzjG6DzK/s400/2ndLabyrinthCollage.August2017.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>6" Circle</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT39Ng0LcJmo2o4ulreARgZHBm1jkSr8okEZxDA9sKpZaf-d25R0TXzZxQzrAaNeDOVEJapd-dKXzOpfONljO0gY_gy6h9SB4GfN9UKKjsLJY3mZg5BONkYe5C2zEYjsZ99vSS2gJ05PRB/s1600/2ndHamsa.Collage.600x300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="600" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT39Ng0LcJmo2o4ulreARgZHBm1jkSr8okEZxDA9sKpZaf-d25R0TXzZxQzrAaNeDOVEJapd-dKXzOpfONljO0gY_gy6h9SB4GfN9UKKjsLJY3mZg5BONkYe5C2zEYjsZ99vSS2gJ05PRB/s400/2ndHamsa.Collage.600x300.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">4.5"x 6"</td></tr>
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<b><span style="color: #134f5c;">*</span></b> <span style="font-weight: normal;"><i>Short answer: From age seven through age 23. </i></span></div>
Meredith Gouldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16260267368064065843noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3730071595590205625.post-53850915002636826562017-05-30T15:25:00.001-06:002017-05-30T21:52:20.308-06:00Politics, Activism, and Identity (Part III: Activism)<i><a href="http://bit.ly/2qrvEYk">Continued from Part II: Identity</a></i><br />
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Trump's election compelled me to recall my identity as an activist. Oh joy, I get to wander down the memory lane of young adulthood, something I'm doing a lot lately, so at least there's that economy of self-inquiry.<br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Activism</span><br />
From my late teens through my late thirties, I was outraged about prejudice and discrimination in every possible form. The big systemic social inequality "isms" for sure, but that's not all. During the mid-1980s I was, for example, also enraged by things like pitiful menu choices for vegans. Equal opportunity outrage! When it came to activism, I was at times simultaneously fearless and naive but nevertheless coachable...about activism. Maybe not so naive, given what I learned from my parents.<br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">For one thing, I was raised to support labor strikes. My father's grandfather, Rabbi Moses Gold, was a founder of the <a href="http://circle.org/">Workmen's Circle</a>. My mother boycotted grapes from 1965 through 1971, even though the <a href="http://bit.ly/2qCztKv">Delano Grape Strike </a>was settled in 1970. Looking back, I'm surprised we didn't have a portrait of Cesar Chavez in our dining room. Crossing a line of picketing workers was unthinkable. Of course, I became the only clerical worker to ever walk with AT&T linemen during a wildcat strike in 1973. I also discovered Saul Alinsky.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: inherit;">You didn't have to persuade <i>me </i>that black lives mattered, either during the 1960s or in 2013 when the <a href="http://blacklivesmatter.com/">#blacklivesmatter Movement</a> was founded. The coalition between blacks and Jews was strong and seemingly unbreakable during the 1950s and for much of the 1960s. My parents belonged to the <a href="http://www.naacp.org/">NAACP </a>which, in case you don't already know, had long worked in coalition with the <a href="http://www.adl.org/">ADL </a>(aka, Jewish Anti-Defamation League). Looking back, I'm surprised we didn't have a portrait of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. in our living room. Of course, I became a non-voting member of my (first) college's Black Student Union in 1971.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: inherit;">Long before Trump arrived on the political scene with his white nationalist storm troopers, I'd realized this history of shared causes and activism, not to mention the <a href="http://bit.ly/2r7p64Y">resurgence of black antisemitism during the late 1960s</a>, was either lost or being studiously ignored. What, if anything, did I want to do about that? Or, more accurately, what would I need to do <i>before </i>I could do anything about that?</span><br />
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Next on my list of activist passions? The Vietnam War. Like everyone else in my generational cohort, the Vietnam War was intensely personal. Protests at the Democratic National Convention in 1968, draft number lotteries in 1969, and the Kent State Massacre in 1970 contributed to my formation as a student activist. Of course, I organized a teach-in instead of blowing up buildings on my (first) college campus.<br />
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By the time I returned to another college after dropping out of the first one, Nixon had been elected, his impeachment hearings had begun, and he had resigned the presidency. Like so many outraged Sociology majors and wannabe Leftist intellectual-activists, I went from liberal Democrat to Marxist, with a side helping of Bakunin.<br />
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Women's rights and gay rights<b><span style="color: #38761d;">*</span></b> arrived on my personal radar through the gateway of employment discrimination. Getting fired for organizing women clerical workers and suing a small multinational company was one glorious wake-up call in 1976. Of course, that involved the New York District Office of the EEOC (U.S. Equal Employment Opportunity Commission). Of course, I handled the case pro se for the first two years.<br />
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The focus of <a href="http://independent.academia.edu/MeredithGould">my scholarly work</a> during and after graduate school would provide another wake-up call. Like so many women in graduate school at that time, I went from Marxist to Socialist Feminist to Radical Feminist to Lesbian Feminist to something I couldn't and wouldn't shove into a category. Later, in response to anyone's shock and awe, I'd quip that my intellectual-activist world was zoned for lavender. Of course, I was denied tenure in 1985.<span style="color: #38761d; font-weight: bold;">** </span><span style="color: #38761d; font-weight: bold;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">I didn't fight it. I was exhausted and would eventually ditch everything to focus on my nascent spiritual life. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="color: #38761d; font-weight: bold;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: inherit;">Ah, memories...those memories. </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Lots of righteous anger but also lots of exuberance and joyful exhaustion, especially after protest marches monitored by SWAT teams. </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">All great and groovy, but now it's 2017. Now what? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: inherit;">There will always be more for me to remember and think about, </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">but I'm having T(hat)F(eeling)W(hen) time is of the essence. It's time to brush-up hard-learned and hard-earned skills. Time to infuse activism with faith and what I discovered during the spiritual journey of middle adulthood. While I'm ready to tell more stories and believe storytelling is necessary, I'm </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">also aware that it's insufficient. Storytelling must inspire action</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">—</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;">starting with </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;">mine, of course. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMZN2nnoB-9FImY-1BQLoMKB4Ktu7wVkOfAdvf2KNqUMPAOK9C7s84MdslY62oxf_Utw2gnvra_4bzIlZEZWLaNLFfd9C35ee_JeWpRqLNJ5KlUYOYKqKIzAyJYC9w9tB6T9s7bAFhyphenhyphenH0v/s1600/ProtestAgain.743x711.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="711" data-original-width="743" height="306" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMZN2nnoB-9FImY-1BQLoMKB4Ktu7wVkOfAdvf2KNqUMPAOK9C7s84MdslY62oxf_Utw2gnvra_4bzIlZEZWLaNLFfd9C35ee_JeWpRqLNJ5KlUYOYKqKIzAyJYC9w9tB6T9s7bAFhyphenhyphenH0v/s320/ProtestAgain.743x711.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>Posted to Twitter by @CarolSnowBooks</i></span></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilECKuONZ0LXMPMpyOsuljB7a3-U02nxxueizSZLeQq4j-sOe7yOaJRn0GZk3BBdC2ctQzMwEuO587HCn_IBGoy_z5QhMdqJfe-1JTAhdc7XLWU7P7zL68zqfdzgz7gtHDCEOsysjd2See/s1600/PoliticalPosts.5-8-17.500x352.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="352" data-original-width="500" height="281" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilECKuONZ0LXMPMpyOsuljB7a3-U02nxxueizSZLeQq4j-sOe7yOaJRn0GZk3BBdC2ctQzMwEuO587HCn_IBGoy_z5QhMdqJfe-1JTAhdc7XLWU7P7zL68zqfdzgz7gtHDCEOsysjd2See/s400/PoliticalPosts.5-8-17.500x352.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<b><span style="color: #38761d;"><br /></span></b> <b><span style="color: #38761d;"><br /><br /><br />~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</span></b><br />
<b><span style="color: #38761d;"><br /></span></b> <b><span style="color: #38761d;">*</span></b><i>Do not </i>send hate mail, that's what it was called during the 1970s. Also, transgender people were called transsexuals; "dyke" and "queer" were considered epithets with the "n" word and "lipstick lesbians" were regarded with disdain. <i>Do </i>feel free to ask me about in-group bickering among organizers of the NYC Gay Pride March 1976.<br />
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<span style="color: #38761d;"><b>**</b></span> I literally laugh-snorted when, circa 1998, I stumbled upon a paper copy of my curriculum vitae. How had I ever imagined I'd receive academic tenure? Almost every publication had some combination of the words sexism, heterosexism, homophobia, and patriarchy in its title.<br />
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Meredith Gouldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16260267368064065843noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3730071595590205625.post-79104212492226533552017-05-26T12:02:00.001-06:002017-05-30T21:45:54.449-06:00Politics, Identity, and Activism (Part II: Identity)<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst">
<i><a href="http://bit.ly/2qNdVOG">Continuing from Part I: Politics</a></i></div>
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What happened next was feeling an unexpectedly visceral need to reexamine my multiple and often competing identities in the domain of faith.</div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Identity</span></div>
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That one of my favorite hymns is the Shaker classic, "Tis the Gift to be Simple" demonstrates my ability to infuse wishful thinking with irony. When it comes to faith-based identity, mine is anything but simple and involves the dubious gift of head-spinning turning, turning.</div>
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Longtime readers already know this about me because every book I've published includes peeking into the varieties of my religious experiences and spiritual encounters.<b><span style="color: #38761d;">*</span></b> Still, here's a synopsis of my identities:</div>
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<li>I'm a Jew who follows the Way of Jesus because of its emphasis on repairing the world through acts of social justice and gathering in <i>chavurot </i>(fellowship).</li>
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<li>I'm a church communications consultant who was spiritual but not religious long before SBNR became a recognized acronym circa 2001.</li>
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<li>I'm becoming one of "the Dones" (<i>aka</i>, been there, done that, and done with the institutional church as a result) while also welcoming almost every opportunity to make the church better.</li>
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<li>I'm an author whose books with Catholic publishers get bragworthy endorsements from leadership in mainline Protestant churches.</li>
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With one exception, nothing new here. The exception? Becoming one of the Dones. But when it comes to that, I seem to be in good and sacred, albeit agonized, company. Pretty soon I'll lose count of how many clergy have confessed, usually through private channels (e.g., DM on Twitter), their feelings of being done with church-the-building.</div>
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These clerics are typically ones who have served in pulpit ministry for eight to fifteen years. Many are what's known as "late vocation" clergy because they had previous careers in the secular world. Almost without exception, they tell me how they encourage wannabe pastors to explore other ways to fulfill a felt call to ministry. (To be written at another time and place: my own story about discerning what I initially thought was a call to ordination.)</div>
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So if I've been managing these multiple identities for decades, what's the problem? My problem seems to be handling my identities a lot more gracefully these days, but I'm not convinced that I can—or should.</div>
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Turns out that during this time of unbridled anti-Semitism, Islamophobia, misogyny, racism, and xenophobia what gets posted by <i>some </i>Christian clergy and <i>most </i>Jewish clergy often differs radically in content and tone. I didn't expect that, nor did I expect my gut-level reaction to noticing those differences.<br />
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Other than <a href="http://bit.ly/2peyinV">reconfiguring who shows up</a> in my Tweetdeck columns, what to do about this latest challenge to identity?</div>
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I typically introduce myself during faith (church) community Twitter chats as having a "multiple spirituality disorder" and as being "fiercely ecumenical." Is it time to add "less Jew-ish and more Jew" or will that become evident by my activism? And what does it matter anyway? Aren't oppressors, not allies, the ones who keep track?<br />
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To be continued but meanwhile, let us pray...</div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span> <span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>To bow and to bend, we will not be ashamed</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>To turn, turn, will be our delight</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>'Til by turning, turning, we come round right</i></span></div>
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Why-There-Menorah-Altar-Christian-ebook/dp/B00DOOFL12/ref=as_li_ss_il?ie=UTF8&qid=1495817459&sr=8-1&keywords=Why+is+there+a+menorah+on+the+altar&linkCode=li3&tag=meredithgould-20&linkId=0e494b4ebedfe45cce04599395f2f51a" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="https://ws-na.amazon-adsystem.com/widgets/q?_encoding=UTF8&ASIN=B00DOOFL12&Format=_SL250_&ID=AsinImage&MarketPlace=US&ServiceVersion=20070822&WS=1&tag=meredithgould-20" /></a><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span> <span style="color: #38761d;"><b>*</b></span> <span style="font-family: inherit;">As I often quip, "Don't get mad, get published." Being irked by the woeful lack of knowledge about Judaism among (some/too many) Christians, led to me writing, <i><a href="http://amzn.to/2r5B3bK">Why Is There a Menorah On The Altar: The Jewish Roots of Christian Worship</a></i>. Further irked to report that this book never quite found an audience of readers.</span><br />
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<img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="https://ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=meredithgould-20&l=li3&o=1&a=B00DOOFL12" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important;" width="1" />
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<br />Meredith Gouldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16260267368064065843noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3730071595590205625.post-89537681643559192402017-05-23T12:41:00.000-06:002017-05-30T21:39:01.277-06:00Politics, Identity, and Activism (Part I: Politics)Since the 2016 U.S. presidential election, I've been spending much of my contemplative time thinking about politics, identity, and activism<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">—</span>mine. <i>What do I believe? Who am I? What is my life's purpose? </i>These core questions are not new to me. I've been exploring them for decades and, depending on the impetus, more or less willingly. Inward Ho, etcetera.<br />
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So what's different this time? To the best of my current awareness, it's the impetus. Current political events have revived memories that have, in turn, reactivated questions about identity. Once again, I'm reminded how the work of self, of being and doing, is the work of a lifetime<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">—</span>mine. Some comfort in knowing that this is just the latest iteration of something that, too, shall pass. Less comfort in suspecting that this round of inner spelunking isn't going to pass anytime soon.<br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Politics</span><br />
My parents were politically active the way Jews have been active throughout history, thanks to a powerful combination of ethics and necessity. Their political activism was also typical of American Jews during the 1950s whose desire for assimilation was anchored in complex and often competing motivations.<b><span style="color: #38761d;">*</span></b><br />
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I was raised to evaluate every political event by whether it was "good for the Jews." In almost all instances this question was purely rhetorical because I was also raised to know that the answer would almost always be "no." It's a deeply embedded question I'd revisit over the years, but rarely to the extent I started asking it during the third and final presidential debate between Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump.<br />
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To refresh your memory, that debate included Clinton's frighteningly instructive commentary about Russia's interest in and interference with U.S. politics. A <a href="http://cnn.it/2qgraUB">CNN/ORC poll</a> declared Hillary Clinton the winner. Want to revisit the audio and visuals? Here's a link to "<a href="http://abcn.ws/2qglYjx">Third Presidential Debate: 7 Moments That Mattered</a>."<br />
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Meanwhile, since June 2016, I'd been tweeting, "no one should be surprised if Trump wins" and getting a fair amount of pushback. Oh well! I self-soothed by making "I love being a sociologist" my new mantra. Still relatively dormant? Any urge to reboot the political activism of my young adulthood.<br />
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As it became apparent that Donald Trump would win the Republican party's nomination, I tweaked the key question a bit to ask <i>how bad</i> his presidency would be for the Jews, especially given his bloviating about having Jewish grandchildren. When Trump won the Electoral College vote, I managed my anxiety by quipping, "I'm sewing diamonds I don't have into the hems of dresses I don't wear."<br />
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Hahaha, right? My plunge into collective and personal memory about identity and activism became real. I didn't expect what would happen next and maybe that's a good thing?<br />
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To be continued...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH4flGnBEeFxnQNoAnW5byWzwFidm-hMYaRID988kMvg7gYdEPKzM5rH9b4GpZAYe9htS6-VRSt6V2djSC8w6K88ZeOD3eui1ste06uJEenJisBSaGxIaCtaLg1r4x-pxMnvpqEaQwumU4/s1600/NoOneShouldBeSurprised.AllTweets.625x595.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="380" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH4flGnBEeFxnQNoAnW5byWzwFidm-hMYaRID988kMvg7gYdEPKzM5rH9b4GpZAYe9htS6-VRSt6V2djSC8w6K88ZeOD3eui1ste06uJEenJisBSaGxIaCtaLg1r4x-pxMnvpqEaQwumU4/s400/NoOneShouldBeSurprised.AllTweets.625x595.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">Because Nothing Ever Dies on the Internet</span></i></td></tr>
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Jew-Vs-Struggle-American-Jewry/dp/0684859440/ref=as_li_ss_il?ie=UTF8&qid=1495563146&sr=8-1&keywords=jew+vs+jew&linkCode=li3&tag=meredithgould-20&linkId=b60b34681b644b6697b1b02e59339524" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="https://ws-na.amazon-adsystem.com/widgets/q?_encoding=UTF8&ASIN=0684859440&Format=_SL250_&ID=AsinImage&MarketPlace=US&ServiceVersion=20070822&WS=1&tag=meredithgould-20" /></a><b><span style="color: #6aa84f; font-size: large;">*</span></b>I recommend reading National Jewish Book Award winner, <i><a href="http://amzn.to/2qT6uUl">Jew vs. Jew: The Struggle for the Soul of American Jewry</a> </i>by Samuel G. Freedman, especially if you're a non-Jew. Or, Jewish and under age 62-ish.<br />
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<br />Meredith Gouldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16260267368064065843noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3730071595590205625.post-9535473106305414382017-04-09T11:44:00.001-06:002017-04-09T11:44:18.165-06:00Why I'm Back to Blogging (On a Personal Blog)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio0_KEmWww_XsUany5Y9sHu1_MzLTIBZr19lxg_7PZrwaGwIkSHsAvBQtng96jVoLDkWv8b8EKczclLMoSGEyJA7thKkmlIypxK2qSmV0rFe6L7CVmAIJEOYfiCczofVuEHcxEv3C7z6g4/s1600/BacktoBloggingPost.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio0_KEmWww_XsUany5Y9sHu1_MzLTIBZr19lxg_7PZrwaGwIkSHsAvBQtng96jVoLDkWv8b8EKczclLMoSGEyJA7thKkmlIypxK2qSmV0rFe6L7CVmAIJEOYfiCczofVuEHcxEv3C7z6g4/s200/BacktoBloggingPost.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hello again!</span><br />
When last we heard from me back in 2015, I was <a href="http://bit.ly/2pgZIWo" target="">explaining my decision to ditch blogging</a>. I thought it would be a permanent hiatus. It's not because here I am, back to blogging.<br />
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Most of my reasons for going on hiatus remain true, albeit slightly tweaked. Read on.<br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Twitter is still my go-to platform for news and conversation.</span><br />
If you follow me on Twitter (<a href="http://www.twitter.com/meredithgould">@meredithgould</a>) you've probably noticed a gradual shift in focus. Since the presidential election, I've become more focused on #digitalactivism and #deliberatekindness. (I'll write more about my call to digital activism in another post.) I still specialize in curating content with (and without) commentary.<br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Medium has become my primary place for writing about writing.</span><br />
On Medium (<a href="http://medium.com/@meredithgould">http://medium.com/@meredithgould</a>) I write about writing. After experimenting with a few other topics, I discovered my sweet spot and contribute to <a href="http://medium.com/@WritingCoop">The Writing Cooperative</a>.<br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As for blogging...</span><br />
Turns out I was simultaneously right <i>and </i>wrong about the value--to me--of actively maintaining a personal blogging. But ever the empiricist, I needed to test this hypothesis.<br />
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<i>I was right because:</i> Since 2015, I've written two books for Liturgical Press. <i>Desperately Seeking Spirituality: A Field Guide to Practice</i> was published in 2016. The publication date for <i>Transcending Generations: A Field Guide to Collaboration in Church</i> is August 15, 2017. Last month, a new edition of <i>Deliberate Acts of Kindness: A Field Guide to Service as a Spiritual Practice</i> was published by Clear Faith Publishing. I managed to accomplish this without futzing with ideas and content on my personal blog.<br />
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<i>I was wrong because:</i> I underestimated the value of blogging to keep my writing pump primed. Standard advice to writers is to write every day. I do, in fact, write every day but not always the type of writing that builds book-writing muscles. Yippee! A new hypothesis to test. Hence, back to blogging.<br />
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<i>I still believe I'm right about group blogs for organizations because: </i>They're a labor intensive nightmare for whoever is charged with maintaing editorial quality control.<br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And so here I am, back to blogging. Because I always have more to say. </span>Meredith Gouldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16260267368064065843noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3730071595590205625.post-11006144704354855332015-05-06T10:30:00.000-06:002017-03-27T19:51:38.763-06:00About this blog and shifting the conversation elsewhere online...<span style="font-family: inherit;">Oh right, I have a blog. This one. The one I haven't posted any written content to since January 4th. And the only reason I know <i>that </i>is because I just looked it up. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I looked for the last post with text, read it, and saw that</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> I wrote about "being </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 21.5599994659424px;">present one day at a time...each hour or moment-to-moment, if that's all I can muster." </span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21.5599994659424px;">Clearly, all that <i>being present</i> did not include blogging. Now on my mind, this question: When will it?</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21.5599994659424px;">At this juncture I'm not sure when I'll get back to this social media platform. If ever. So much has changed since I started blogging in 2007. Blogging platforms have died (e.g., Typepad) and others have emerged (e.g., Tumblr). </span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21.5599994659424px;">Blogging itself has gone through some changes. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21.5599994659424px;">Years ago, long form posts, sometimes pushing 2,000 words were acceptable if not normative. By 2010-ish, micro-blogging platforms like Facebook and Twitter, plus changes in hardware, eventually rendered massive word counts as intolerable as they were unreadable on certain digital devices. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21.5599994659424px;">I was fine with all these changes, including the ascendency of visual social media like Pinterest and Instagram. Having started out as a visual artist, I became a very happy camper indeed when it became perfectly acceptable to have blog posts dominated by images rather than text. Tumblr is the blogging platform responsible for that shift. I set up a Tumblr blog and then did exactly nothing with it because I had this one.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21.5599994659424px;">There's more to this transition from blogging, including but not limited to these current realities:</span></div>
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<li><span style="line-height: 21.5599994659424px;">Twitter allows swift access to and the possibility of conversation with more people than my blog could ever generate.</span></li>
<li><span style="line-height: 21.5599994659424px;">Facebook provides a platform for sharing thoughts, insights, and ridiculousness with even more space than allowed via Twitter, plus see first point above.</span></li>
<li><span style="line-height: 21.5599994659424px;">Both Twitter and Facebook allow me to choose when and how to share my Instagram pics with a slightly different group of connections.</span></li>
<li><span style="line-height: 21.5599994659424px;"><a href="http://www.meredithgould.com/books.html" target="_blank">Books </a>are my long form, a revelation I've finally arrived at as I begin my tenth and another with Liturgical Press. </span></li>
<li><span style="line-height: 21.5599994659424px;">Public blogging no longer functions well, for me, as the place to futz around with book content.</span></li>
<li><span style="line-height: 21.5599994659424px;">Any future quasi-long form writing I might want to do online would probably be better launched from <a href="https://medium.com/" target="_blank">Medium</a>.</span></li>
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Still, I'm loathe to completely shut down this online diary (the original point of blogging) of my interior and exterior meanderings over the years, so I won't. Instead, here's where you'll find me:</div>
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<li>I'm sticking with Twitter as my personal comedy club and go-to place for marketing communications intel in the worlds of healthcare and church. Follow me on Twitter (<a href="http://www.twitter.com/meredithgould" target="_blank">@meredithgould</a>) to find curated content about #chsocm (Church Social Media), #hlthsp (Health and Spirituality), and lively exchanges with tweeps from my overlapping worlds of interest.</li>
<li>I've set up a <a href="https://www.facebook.com/Meredith.Gould.Author" target="_blank">Facebook Author Page</a> to update readers about book releases and events, with occasional whining about the process of book writing and the world of publishing. Please "Like" me there.</li>
<li>For all other longer-than-Twitter observations plus other stuff (but rarely links to articles because those I post on Twitter), "Friend/Follow" <a href="https://www.facebook.com/meredith.gould" target="_blank">my Meredith Gould profile</a>.</li>
<li>To see what the "eye" cultivated by decades of formal art training zooms in on, follow me on <a href="https://instagram.com/themeredithgould" target="_blank">my Instagram account</a>.</li>
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Next Advent (November 29-December 24, 2015), Schlep of the Magi will show up on FB and possibly on Instagram.</div>
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So there you have it, dear readers. I do hope you'll connect with me via other social networking platforms. Your comments and support over the years have been a blessing that, not to be greedy, I'd love to continue receiving.</div>
Meredith Gouldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16260267368064065843noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3730071595590205625.post-28319112301811416682015-02-17T15:06:00.000-07:002017-03-27T15:25:42.729-06:00The Magi Enter the Season of Lent (2015)<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #073763; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>Schlepping home in time for</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #073763; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>Shrove Tuesday pancakes.</b></span></div>
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<br />Meredith Gouldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16260267368064065843noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3730071595590205625.post-25708905770638013342015-01-05T23:00:00.000-07:002017-03-28T10:11:14.871-06:00The Magi Arrive at Long Last<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #990000; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><b>The Magi didn't expect the Holy Family to be </b></span><br />
<span style="color: #990000; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><b>so much </b></span><b style="color: #990000; font-family: verdana, sans-serif;"><i>larger than life</i>. Quite the Epiphany! </b><br />
<b style="color: #990000; font-family: verdana, sans-serif;">And the trip was such a schlep, </b><br />
<b style="color: #990000; font-family: verdana, sans-serif;">they decided </b><b style="color: #990000; font-family: verdana, sans-serif;">to head home another way.</b></div>
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Meredith Gouldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16260267368064065843noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3730071595590205625.post-54485723096641322432015-01-04T10:27:00.003-07:002017-03-27T15:27:39.805-06:00New Year's Resolutions? Why Bother?By the time January 1st rolls around I've already celebrated Rosh Hashonah (Jewish New Year) and Advent (beginning the Christian liturgical year). Plus, it doesn't matter for how long I've been away from academia, its rhythms thrum deep, so I always welcome September as yet another new year.<br />
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Add my sloppy but well-intentioned practice of a daily Examen and nightly 10th Step, and creating new or strengthening ongoing resolutions on January 1st seems redundant. Still, as a chronic maker-of-lists and begin-again-er, I do exactly that on the first of January, knowing full well the absurdity of characterizing these intentions as resolutions.<br />
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In reality, such as it ever is, I create a list of hopes and wishes. Some come to pass and most don't, which has finally got me asking, "Whose will is it anyway?" And so during morning (written) prayers on the first day of 2015, I found myself scrawling, "Why bother?"<br />
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Turns out I'm not alone, something I know enough to assume but was happy to discover empirically while reading Fran Rossi Szpylczyn's first post for 2015, "<a href="http://bit.ly/17bbKrp" target="_blank">#Why not? A New Year's reflection</a>." Four paragraphs into her post, "<i>So why bother setting up some unrealistic expectations that will only send me swooshing down some giant slide o' shame by January 10th anyway? Why bother?</i>" Please read the entire post to see how she's embracing the spiritual practice of curiosity in 2015.<br />
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As for me, enough with the grandiose plans. I'm inviting myself to be present one day at a time...each hour or moment-to-moment, if that's all I can muster. Amen to that and, while I'm at it, dayenu.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnu_RAwpbTNlrUPdFPloHT2dli-kpadGioBqeK0AYyuuEYqpMBs4Cstlkp7FcKng7swZcVOzH9xKesQqZqMhFVDPlATkH9HncG7F8QvxORMIbjxTiPU3eucb9ZvjfVpjNkghDZntJ4rLXc/s1600/WhyBother.EDITED.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnu_RAwpbTNlrUPdFPloHT2dli-kpadGioBqeK0AYyuuEYqpMBs4Cstlkp7FcKng7swZcVOzH9xKesQqZqMhFVDPlATkH9HncG7F8QvxORMIbjxTiPU3eucb9ZvjfVpjNkghDZntJ4rLXc/s1600/WhyBother.EDITED.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><b><span style="color: #351c75; font-size: small;">Take a page from my book...</span></b></i></td></tr>
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<br />Meredith Gouldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16260267368064065843noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3730071595590205625.post-10814050454612545812015-01-03T01:00:00.000-07:002017-03-27T15:28:09.336-06:00Schlep of the Magi into 2015: Bleak Midwinter<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #990000; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>The final approach </b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b>to the </b></span><b style="color: #990000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">manger becomes </b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #990000; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>more-than-slightly catastrophic.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEENYr9vdCavUdEeER2D38yTkWGjNO4x76Ll1dGi3DRYjNjpvjxjV1FZVDsgJ1pI1HE3xQwpWCN87oFHnT8SzyOkPagqJuH9zwxnTPUv-7lR0_L36RQljsaEx216A1wz-X89S5erBaKBZ-/s1600/Catastrophic.2014.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEENYr9vdCavUdEeER2D38yTkWGjNO4x76Ll1dGi3DRYjNjpvjxjV1FZVDsgJ1pI1HE3xQwpWCN87oFHnT8SzyOkPagqJuH9zwxnTPUv-7lR0_L36RQljsaEx216A1wz-X89S5erBaKBZ-/s1600/Catastrophic.2014.png" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />Meredith Gouldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16260267368064065843noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3730071595590205625.post-71003270293848304982014-12-31T16:45:00.000-07:002017-03-27T15:28:28.088-06:00Schlep of the Magi (2014): Starry Night 1<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #7f6000; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>The directions mention </b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #7f6000; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>something about stars...somewhere.</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Qk8D3Ab9g1gUsEiTnVgmdiKr9dy54CzLYUA9aCRBdZpZkUssqhFxk1FVzXMCIx_xKFvStLXzaCaTUDXcD4nWCXjZ8RJm4Pt2Bu3XZSBSSVGBpLBV2nhLcRS76Ug3ouYegaZd3CQSTucj/s1600/MagiStar.2014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Qk8D3Ab9g1gUsEiTnVgmdiKr9dy54CzLYUA9aCRBdZpZkUssqhFxk1FVzXMCIx_xKFvStLXzaCaTUDXcD4nWCXjZ8RJm4Pt2Bu3XZSBSSVGBpLBV2nhLcRS76Ug3ouYegaZd3CQSTucj/s1600/MagiStar.2014.jpg" width="388" /></a></div>
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<br />Meredith Gouldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16260267368064065843noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3730071595590205625.post-78402124916241954222014-12-27T01:11:00.000-07:002017-03-27T15:28:45.470-06:00Schlep of the Magi (2014): Boatload of Lost<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>The Magi finally start fishing </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b>around </b></span><b style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">for directions.</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9wfp-ARzWc9l-WX_EiBl0zjdxiAJHXb2SfZN7zYvqUtDgYV2mjGzMntf3Mdb-WC5TrFAzYa0zlc6e_kd1tSZtvsbKQZ1BPIeUIgTj62v2dv3HUba_Wxe_VUNFW0RCnh_6E1GRPtNOOdmQ/s1600/FishingDirections.2014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="303" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9wfp-ARzWc9l-WX_EiBl0zjdxiAJHXb2SfZN7zYvqUtDgYV2mjGzMntf3Mdb-WC5TrFAzYa0zlc6e_kd1tSZtvsbKQZ1BPIeUIgTj62v2dv3HUba_Wxe_VUNFW0RCnh_6E1GRPtNOOdmQ/s1600/FishingDirections.2014.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Meredith Gouldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16260267368064065843noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3730071595590205625.post-76615268302127580992014-12-20T22:03:00.000-07:002017-03-27T15:31:24.077-06:00Life as a Clergy Wife (Christmas Edition): You Don't Hear What I Hear<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMvZ9G4Q39HxZW2a5SgE4FcmBxGFAZPOu8uJUAu_S4VRxNkinySvKbddpefE1ezSlIjfzeMlRnLpJ7ekie4JADkjD2qUmh6HVRSfByCnb_PdmvpyKiErJTUE84WEO01ra2D27apqYT7EN4/s1600/certified-stamp.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMvZ9G4Q39HxZW2a5SgE4FcmBxGFAZPOu8uJUAu_S4VRxNkinySvKbddpefE1ezSlIjfzeMlRnLpJ7ekie4JADkjD2qUmh6HVRSfByCnb_PdmvpyKiErJTUE84WEO01ra2D27apqYT7EN4/s1600/certified-stamp.gif" /></a></div>
Yes, I was eavesdropping, how could I not? If I've said it once, I've said it gazillion times, "Inside voice, please."<b><span style="color: #cc0000;">*</span></b> But to be fair, certain types of the Clergy Voice will forever trump the Inside Voice.<br />
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And so it came to pass that I heard my husband's conversation with the puppeteer-ventriloquist the Vestry had booked for the Christmas Eve <s>show</s> worship service. He thinks this might possibly be an annual thing at the church where he has been serving as interim Interim.<b><span style="color: #cc0000;">**</span></b><br />
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I was in the kitchen making an East Indian curried cabbage dish, so sauteing was going on. Still, through the sound of mustard seeds a-popping, I could hear him say, "<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Jesus loves you, no matter what.</span>"<br />
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While I could easily come up with several reasons to say this to a puppeteer-ventriloquist whose gigs include churches, why was he?<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">She wanted to know what message I'd be delivering on Christmas Eve.</span>"</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"<i><span style="color: #990000;">Jesus loves you...no matter what?</span></i>"</blockquote>
Turns out I hadn't heard the lead-in, his framework for delivering on Christmas Eve, this core Christian message about Jesus' abiding love, mercy, and grace.<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Santa is the only one who cares if you're naughty or nice, but Jesus loves you no matter what.</span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"</span> </blockquote>
I treasured all these words and pondered them in my heart, wondering out loud if this might mean that Santa, not Jesus, was Jewish. Also, why would the puppet be a goose? Given the Anglican tradition of tucking into roasted goose for Christmas, wasn't that just a wee bit weird and possibly traumatizing for the little ones?<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">You don't have to go.</span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"</span></blockquote>
I'm thinking I should probably thank Santa for that.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirFwK_OOKoNdLTP9jiItFiZQ4b1Uwo0CaayKX8r9VYvpVCBBochyphenhyphenp_x5wP3bKvM-YxFfhN0OxkUonLwFb8eJktSqjKixAVETZwOk3IIzElWh15EU9H2Ir4uFP46G0lsZzqKIObYtR2-3iu/s1600/christmas_goose.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirFwK_OOKoNdLTP9jiItFiZQ4b1Uwo0CaayKX8r9VYvpVCBBochyphenhyphenp_x5wP3bKvM-YxFfhN0OxkUonLwFb8eJktSqjKixAVETZwOk3IIzElWh15EU9H2Ir4uFP46G0lsZzqKIObYtR2-3iu/s1600/christmas_goose.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="color: #783f04;">Christmas Hamper by Robert Braithwaite Martineau</span></i></td></tr>
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<b><span style="color: #cc0000;">*</span></b><i>Around here, "inside voice" refers to being inside our home, not inside a church whose sound system is at best iffy.</i><br />
<i><b><span style="color: #cc0000;">**</span></b> interim Interim is not a typo.</i><br />
<br />Meredith Gouldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16260267368064065843noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3730071595590205625.post-26085295475167875452014-12-20T08:36:00.000-07:002017-03-27T15:41:57.609-06:00Schlep of the Magi (2014): 4th Sunday in Advent<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="color: #073763; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b>The Magi don't even consider stopping</b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">to find rooms at an inn.</b></span></div>
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<br />Meredith Gouldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16260267368064065843noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3730071595590205625.post-65787662943293006812014-12-15T23:00:00.000-07:002017-03-30T13:07:12.988-06:00Schlep of the Magi (2014): Miracles Abound<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>The Magi stop to behold </b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>yet another great miracle.*</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0wOoQ77IHrXClYOEUE1CWOKumFt20ZzmP5Tp8dsk9A4uVZKs9CWvxmzVhei1XRbUv3HKKSpfYkgVXE83-3CU5CsgjfOOpyPz4GhpUYqMxH2Sp45p3nO9FETFg1WI0TSQ3aRdaUuuOzujO/s1600/MagiMiracle.Edited.2014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0wOoQ77IHrXClYOEUE1CWOKumFt20ZzmP5Tp8dsk9A4uVZKs9CWvxmzVhei1XRbUv3HKKSpfYkgVXE83-3CU5CsgjfOOpyPz4GhpUYqMxH2Sp45p3nO9FETFg1WI0TSQ3aRdaUuuOzujO/s1600/MagiMiracle.Edited.2014.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #783f04; font-size: large;">*</span><span style="font-family: inherit;">"A dreidel has one Hebrew letter on each side. Outside of Israel, those letters are: נ (Nun), ג (Gimmel), ה (Hay) and ש (Shin), which stand for the Hebrew phrase "Nes Gadol Haya Sham." This phrase means "A great miracle happened there [in Israel]."After the State of Israel was founded in 1948 the Hebrew letters were changed for dreidels used in Israel. They became: נ (Nun), ג (Gimmel), ה (Hay) and פ (Pey), which stand for the Hebrew phrase "Nes Gadol Haya Po." This means "A great miracle happened here."The miracle referred to in both versions of the Hebrew phrase is the miracle of the Hanukkah oil, which lasted for eight days instead of one." From: <a href="http://abt.cm/1yJV8lQ" target="_blank">What Is a Dreidel?</a></span>Meredith Gouldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16260267368064065843noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3730071595590205625.post-51401911369208109292014-12-13T01:00:00.000-07:002017-03-27T15:42:47.019-06:00Schlep of the Magi (2014): Gaudete Sunday J(Oy)<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>On the 3rd Sunday of Advent, </b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>the Magi get stuck in
seasonal OY
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkRlEp1ym-1qobQOjH3Yxdw4IALZCpOXP0up06RCmHN3sIpX4yoJdd-AnfpQYgt_tsTFHQmbSIt-89in4f8eb46u_KKDq6E1VIiEAK7M8nZoezu0AwrZjMjAtdXrIu4CRPfTMmJ022eG-p/s1600/MagiOy.Edited.2014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkRlEp1ym-1qobQOjH3Yxdw4IALZCpOXP0up06RCmHN3sIpX4yoJdd-AnfpQYgt_tsTFHQmbSIt-89in4f8eb46u_KKDq6E1VIiEAK7M8nZoezu0AwrZjMjAtdXrIu4CRPfTMmJ022eG-p/s1600/MagiOy.Edited.2014.jpg" width="508" /></a></div>
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<b><span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">And yet...</span></b><br />
<b><span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></b>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="215" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/videoseries?list=PLM5ofgGCczvOfUSQnJNVUYD5sPbMX6KCp" width="460"></iframe></div>
Meredith Gouldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16260267368064065843noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3730071595590205625.post-90189066084497167512014-12-06T01:00:00.000-07:002017-03-27T15:43:13.950-06:00Schlep of the Magi (2014): Pause on the Journey<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>The 2nd Sunday of Advent Comes</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b>on </b></span><b style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Little Cat Feet*</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPiAq0LNfbxeBItsSHL2McmbkZMZogzhU7tOPVHFG6GL4gnRSpgieKeVPU7Ojle-wiJVG3EPYo7pOXO0Kfx8ANuhtoC1Wi9E7l-ZYO239Lt2F6ohSLXltHUMMlmQFGHzmSF4nalV3GSQny/s1600/BigCats.2014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPiAq0LNfbxeBItsSHL2McmbkZMZogzhU7tOPVHFG6GL4gnRSpgieKeVPU7Ojle-wiJVG3EPYo7pOXO0Kfx8ANuhtoC1Wi9E7l-ZYO239Lt2F6ohSLXltHUMMlmQFGHzmSF4nalV3GSQny/s1600/BigCats.2014.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b><span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: large;">*</span></b>Ok, who among you gets this reference? Hint: poetry.Meredith Gouldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16260267368064065843noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3730071595590205625.post-36528546203936692712014-12-04T18:43:00.003-07:002017-03-27T15:44:15.329-06:00An Author's Life: How to Tell Fact From FictionOh let's not call it procrastination. Instead, let's call it creative warm-ups. Jumping jacks in place. While slumped in a desk chair and staring at a computer monitor.<br />
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To be a bit more accurate and only slightly less dramatic, I was sorting through seven years of blog posts to...oh, what the hell does it matter? I wasn't writing what I'm supposed to be writing, although I <i>was </i>thinking about it. No news there, because I'll be thinking about <a href="http://bit.ly/1sqILbX" target="_blank">the damn thing</a> (<i>aka</i>, manuscript) until I turn it in. Of course, I do need to write it first. There <i>is </i>that.<br />
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I digress. See? Not procrastinating! Digressing! A creative detour...sorting through blog posts and stumbling upon a virtual pile of unpublished posts. Some happen to be exactly what I'm supposed to be writing, evidence that I've been thinking about this stuff for ages upon ages.<br />
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Along the way I rediscovered this quote from an interview with Hilary Mantel. Mantel, who won the Booker Prize twice, is best known for her historical novels about Thomas Cromwell: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0312429983/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=0312429983&linkCode=as2&tag=meredithgould-20&linkId=CJ7Y7CIHVETSXSBT"><i>Wolf Hall</i></a> and <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/125002417X/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=125002417X&linkCode=as2&tag=meredithgould-20&linkId=TYHK226MWOAAROAF"><i>Bring Up the Bodies (Wolf Hall, Book 2)</i></a>. I loved both, but loved even more her novel about the French Revolution, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0312426399/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=0312426399&linkCode=as2&tag=meredithgould-20&linkId=V2OFLV76XCHFSD64"><i>A Place of Greater Safety: A Novel</i></a>. It's<i> </i>so complex and dark that it makes what Alexandre Dumas and Charles Dickens wrote seem like light-hearted Disneyfied fairy tales about the best and worst of times.<br />
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I digress...again! But not really, because here's how I tie it all together: I write nonfiction. I've always written nonfiction (plus dismal adolescent poetry) for two major reasons. First, I simply don't "get" the process of writing a novel. Second, I've learned that I simply cannot make up the stuff that I have and continue to experience.<br />
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And so, imagine my delight to stumble upon what Mantel said about distinguishing fact from fiction. Not kidding, imagine my delight. Whatever you're able to imagine is a probably a true fact.<br />
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Meredith Gouldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16260267368064065843noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3730071595590205625.post-29542113303335735422014-11-29T01:30:00.000-07:002017-03-27T15:46:10.541-06:00Schlep of the Magi Begins Again (2014)<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #073763; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b>The Magi start their journey with a simple math problem:</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #073763; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b><i>If </i>Three Wise Men </b></span><b style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">schlep for 37 days,</b></div>
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<span style="color: #073763; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b><i>and </i>have a total of 51 flushable cleansing cloths, </b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #073763; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b><i>then</i> to how many flushable cleansing cloths </b></span><b style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">is each Magi entitled?</b></div>
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<br />Meredith Gouldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16260267368064065843noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3730071595590205625.post-35393247673377441192014-11-23T22:14:00.000-07:002017-03-27T15:45:18.952-06:00Life as a Clergy Wife: My Most Excellent Sunday Adventure<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE-OkBV6h4Nqg8oHdzG4ZOdp0Wd-PYEeysHrMNMAJGwlgMyWJlX_KACvJamtX2E06UwGUN8PuyQA_dDfk_N7NxYRtnZy8vKDXphtkwkpcD_feLcE59jA71zDfydTby0h6q_1H6hza214FC/s1600/certified-stamp.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE-OkBV6h4Nqg8oHdzG4ZOdp0Wd-PYEeysHrMNMAJGwlgMyWJlX_KACvJamtX2E06UwGUN8PuyQA_dDfk_N7NxYRtnZy8vKDXphtkwkpcD_feLcE59jA71zDfydTby0h6q_1H6hza214FC/s1600/certified-stamp.gif" /></a><br />
Other than waking up to God strongly suggesting that I go to church with my husband, I'm a little fuzzy on the exact sequence of this morning's events.<br />
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Let's just say that between the time we arrived and liturgy began, I somehow ended up singing with the choir. Singing soprano! Singing Rutter's "<a href="http://bit.ly/1yK98IJ" target="_blank">Look at the World</a>" for the offertory! Wearing an outfit!<br />
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Don't I look happy?<br />
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I was! And many hours later, I still am, even though I had to leave the outfit at church.<br />
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<br />Meredith Gouldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16260267368064065843noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3730071595590205625.post-33934729739405772722014-09-20T10:21:00.000-06:002017-03-27T15:46:55.317-06:00Life as a Clergy Wife: Doing That Priest-y Thing?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I was having a rough Friday exacerbated, no doubt, by having been in five different time zones and multiple airports over the past two weeks. (This kind of schedule does <i>not </i>play well with <a href="http://bit.ly/w4M8Yu" target="_blank">fibromyalgia</a>, something I do know but often pretend isn't true.)<br />
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I'd already had a meltdown that included crying. I'd also had a rapid-fire exchange of direct messages on Twitter with someone who was feeling my pain along with her own. I watched a #SharkCat video (see below). And then I called my husband at work, something I don't make a habit (<i>habit</i>, hahah, get it?) of doing.<br />
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During these early years of our marriage we've spent an incalculable amount of time trying to figure out how to identify, establish, and maintain reasonably healthy boundaries relative to work. We tried calling it "vocation." Using the word "vocation" underscored the sacred dimension and obscured the fact that most ministers work like dray horses. Maybe other couples can do it well, but having both of us in active ministry -- full time for him and nearly full time for me -- was trashing our marriage. And our friendship wasn't doing so well, either.<br />
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We talked near-constantly about about polity weirdness, rubrics, open Communion, the tyranny of combative church committees, <i>ad orientem</i> altars, crappy church signage, ecumenism gone bad, dysfunctional church websites, and the persistent resistance among some clergy to recognize the value of social media. This went on during the workday and at home after work.<br />
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<i>We</i>? Okay, mostly me. Honestly, if bitching about institutionalized religion were a spiritual practice, I'd be viewed as a diligent disciplined practitioner.<br />
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So not only did <i>we </i>agree to stop talking about church work, but that I'd rebalance my healthcare-church consulting portfolio. Along the way, I think I decided that I wouldn't call my husband, the priest, at work for anything more substantive than finding out if he was stopping off at the supermarket on his way home.<br />
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But I was a mess, so I called him at (church) work.<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"<i><span style="color: #990000;">You busy doing priest-y things?</span></i>"</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">No.</span>"</blockquote>
His other phone ringing in the background, but I knew he was absolutely present to and for me. He could tell I was upset. He listened. He said some stuff. He listened some more. I could feel my energy shift and lift.<br />
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Later, I realized that I'd called him not at his work, but really at his vocation.<br />
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Yes, he was being my husband, but he was indeed doing a priest-y thing. For that I was, and am, graced and grateful.<br />
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Meredith Gouldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16260267368064065843noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3730071595590205625.post-40135885655552132052014-08-16T17:26:00.002-06:002017-03-27T15:48:32.149-06:00An Author's Life: I'm Declaring the Arrival of Autumn. Right Now.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Earlier this summer, my whimpering and whinging about not quite hunkering down to write my new book was met with sympathetic clucking from some and derisive-yet-loving laugh snorts by others.<br />
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Easy to distinguish between the cluckers and laugh-snorters. The laugh-snorters are those who have known me for many years; hardy souls who have observed my writing process throughout the course of writing -- or not writing and bitching about not writing -- previous books.<br />
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I thank God for these dearly beloved friends whose <a href="http://bit.ly/1rF1lYQ" target="_blank">FFS </a>response yanks me back to this reality: I have never never ever ever written book stuff during the summer months. Never. Ever. Never ever. These friends remind me that I've always spent the summer gardening (or did, when I had a garden), reading novels, binge watching mindless crap, avoiding sunlight, and praying for cloudy days.<br />
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You'd think I'd know this, but apparently it takes a mini-village to calm me the F down, to remind me how summer is my fallow season, that I come to life during the Fall when everything else starts dying. It's true. I perk right up when I see the green-gold of twilight happening earlier; when I hear cicadas chirr at a slower pace. Instead of searching for a cave to crawl into for the winter, I stumble out of the one I've created to escape summer.<br />
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There are several official ways to mark the beginning of Autumn. For most (in the USofA) it's Labor Day (September 1) and when the school year begins, even if school hasn't been attended for decades. Purists (of some sort) might insist on waiting for the Autumnal equinox on September 23.<br />
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But the air has been cool with crisp edges for many consecutive days. My Thai basil has gone to flower. The plane trees have been shedding bark for weeks. This morning I woke up feeling words forming sentences and paragraphs, which I welcomed as yet another sign that this ghastly season known as summer is finally coming to an end. Also, I suddenly have a hankering for meatloaf and baked potatoes.<br />
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So that's it, then. I'm declaring the arrival of Autumn and will stop bitching about not writing. Laugh snorts? Anyone?Meredith Gouldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16260267368064065843noreply@blogger.com