Forgive me if I'm jumping the gun on anybody, but coffee hour is usually up by 6 pm EST and I don't see it anywhere else, so come on in and pour yourself a beverage! I've got decaf coffee brewing, and there's cocoa powder, too, if you fancy a mocha. I also have juice and sparkling water if you prefer something cold.

I usually don't have caffeine later than 4 pm or so, although I'm not sure if it makes much of a difference for me, because I'm what you might call an anti-insomniac -- I can usually sleep on command. I wish I could give this ability to Dr. VM -- the combination of trouble sleeping and a constantly shifting work schedule really take a toll on him sometimes.

I lived in New York City from 1992 to 1996, and one of the many things I still carry with me from that time is a subscription to the New York Times on Sundays. (The Sunday edition provides me with plenty of reading material to stretch out over the week!) Every so often I consider canceling the subscription on the grounds that 1) it's expensive, as newspaper subscriptions go, 2) I don't live in New York anymore -- maybe I should pay more attention to my local news, and 3) I can read it online anyway.

But just about the time I'm thinking those thoughts, I open up the paper and find something that moves me to tears. That happened this morning. A full-page ad appeared in the Week in Review section with the heading: Loving God and Neighbor Together: A Christian Response to A Common Word Between Us and You.

The ad contains a response to an open letter to Christian leaders signed by 138 Muslim scholars and clerics, sent on October 13, 2007. Follow me over the jump for links to the open letter and the response.

I just moved to the Detroit metro area a week ago, so I thought it would be good to check out the local media. I found this article on the front page of the Detroit Free Press yesterday: "Druids to mark solstice -- late"

I thought to myself, "Cool, they're presenting Druids as the ordinary everyday folks that they are, in a cute little seasonal human interest story." Then I got to this paragraph:

In ancient Europe, druids were a mysterious religious class of people who revered nature, worshipped many gods and were eventually wiped out by Christians. In the Bible, they're called pagans and cast as the bad guys who favored gold idols and liked a good human sacrifice from time to time.

I talked to my Dad on the phone last night. He's a healthy and active 74-year-old widower, a Republican and a Missouri Synod Lutheran, but pretty open-minded for all that. He read one of my books on Buddhism and was cool with it, and, in a move that both shocked and delighted me, he sent me Conservatives Without Conscience shortly after it came out.

Last night, Dad mentioned that he's thinking of curtailing his activities with a community organization he's involved in (I won't name it for privacy reasons, but it's similar to the Rotary Club). One of his reasons is that a Jewish woman who belongs to the group has requested that the prayers they say to open and close their meetings be made inclusive rather than specifically Christian. This led to a high-spirited debate between Dad and me about religion and society. Join me over the jump to find out what ensued!

I have a simple theological question.

To me, the answer is obvious, but I'm not a theologian by any means. I'm a shy but opinionated heretic, and I believe what I believe but I often lact the rhetorical ammunition to defend my beliefs should it become necessary. I'm confident that many of my fellow Street Prophets will be able to help! Follow me!

I'm really good at holding a grudge - how about you?

I'm still p.o'ed at my 6th grade teacher for the stupid punishment he imposed on me for passing a note in class.

In 9th grade, my best friend arrived at school one day with a new haircut that made her eligible to join the "cool kids" group, and she unceremoniously dropped me like a hot potato. To this day, when her name pops up in my mind, an unflattering word pops up along with it.

During my first year of grad school, I had a relationship with a fellow grad student that ended badly. I didn't speak to him for 2 years, even though we were in the same program. (We're good friends now - I've made some progress. :))

We all know the drill. Anger hurts me more than the person I'm angry at. Forgiveness liberates me at least as much as the person I forgive. Holding a grudge is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die. Just let it go. Forgive others as God forgives us. It's so simple.

Simple, but not easy.

I attended a production of Godspell this evening. A couple of students from the high school where I teach part-time were in it, and I wanted to support them. I also have a soft spot in my heart for the show, because I was in a production of it myself when I was in high school (I played Robin, and got to sing "Day by Day"). I was a tiny bit apprehensive about what the evening would be like, because it was a Christian-themed show being put on by a company called Christian Community Theatre. I was hoping the production wouldn't be too heavy-handed in a fundamentalist/evangelical way. I don't think the original production was that way, and I don't think the show demands it, but like Matthew's gospel on which it was based, the show could be interpreted in many different ways.

One of the ten basic Buddhist precepts goes like this: "I will transform suffering into wisdom. This is the practice of Not Being Angry. I will not harbor resentment, rage or revenge. I will roll all negative experience into my practice."

I am struggling with this right now.

A couple of months ago I asked my meditation teacher to give me the Zen prescription for a broken heart. He told me to meditate on it (duh!), and he suggested a particular way of doing it. There is a technique called tonglen, during which you imagine you are taking in others' suffering as you breathe in, and you send out healing as you breathe out. My teacher told me to think of everyone who has ever had a broken heart -- past, present and future -- and to imagine healing for all. I tried it and it was very powerful. Then I went home and wrote the following, a poem/prayer/thingy. Please enjoy.

I've been procrastinating about setting this up, but I really want to go, and I'm looking for an economical way to do it.

My great-grandma worked in a candy factory as a chocolate dipper.
(Perhaps this explains why I'm such a hard-core chocoholic - it's
hereditary!) When I was a little girl, my mom showed me how you could
tell what was inside a piece of chocolate by the tiny swirled design
on top, as her grandma had showed her.

When I was a teenager, I loved Good Friday. The hormone poisoning that accompanies adolescence hit me particularly hard, and as a result, I took advantage of any opportunity to revel in melodrama. I was emo when emo wasn't cool.