End of Year

It's a time for remembering. This morning I read some of my journals from past years. I started writing a journal in 1966 when I was 19 and studying in Greece. I filled pages with the angst of not having a lover - something I did over and over again as relationships waxed and waned - but also with discoveries about myself. It was that year that I determined I wanted to spend my life educating for peace and justice. Guess what, I mostly have have had the privilege of doing that and I'm not done yet. My writing grows out of my need to communicate the need to love one another, see that of the Spirit in one another. I am full of stories about people who have done that.

So 2012 I will take more time to write, tell stories, educate toward a sustainable, human world. At 19 I thought we would have succeeded in that task long ago. It seemed attainable - just change the system. At 64 I know it doesn't work like that. It's a slow process. One heart and mind at a time.

I just finished our holiday letter - have yet to send it out to all those lovely people on my email list. You can see the letter and pictures by going to www.2quakers.net, our website, Terry and I, and clicking on the holiday letter and attachments. Pay particular attention to the "thinning" attachment. It's felt so good to eliminate tasks and responsibilities and free up more time for writing this year. And for reading old journals so that I can keep on keeping on educating for peace and justice.

And enjoy the poem about the meeting house our granddaughter Cassie wrote. She's only 11 but she's definitely a peace and justice educator already.

What's New?

I haven't posted since this time last year. I will post something significant soon. All is well with those close to me - the world keeps changing and not always for the better.

My new quote on my email says it all:

And learn but in quietness and stillness to retire… and wait upon the Spirit; in whom thou shalt feel peace and joy, in the midst of thy troubles from the cruel and vexatious spirit of this world.

~Isaac Pennington, 1675