Maren's Musings

                     There’s an unopened sack of flour, and an unopened jar of active dry yeast. And there’s the dried hibiscus powder, the vanilla syrup, and another can of coconut milk.  Used only once in an attempt to make a copycat Starbucks Pink Drink. But the copycat version was not as good as the real thing, try as we might. Copycat versions rarely are.  Better to try and make something original. Sometimes when my eyes fall to that pantry, the mishmash of stuff waiting to be used, It takes my self-esteem down a few notches. “Why haven’t you gotten around to using that yet?” “What a waste of money,” my inner critic says. The evidence of my neglect, all staring me in the face. But the truth is, none of these ingredients have expired. They are not mad at me, or disappointed. They’re all just sitting patiently on the shelf, content to wait. They do not care that they are not immaculately organi...

It’s hard being a human these days. Maybe it’s hard being an animal too (Have you watched Penguin Town yet?! If not, go find it on Netflix!) But we humans have to contend with sensory overload. We simply know too much, and too little at the same time. Without some sort of a filter, everything coming at us can quickly lead to feeling overwhelmed. Too much, going on too fast. Climate change. Wars and chaos. Laws changing to the detriment of women and voters. It can make your head spin. Like one of those tops that start off centered, but then progressively wobbles until it eventually stops and lays down on its side. I don’t want us all to drop down like that top, out of pure exhaustion. The world has need of you and me, more than ever. The world has need of our clear-headedness. The world needs us to wake up and be our best self, or as close to our best self as we can. The world needs us to be open, compassionate, flexible. But here’s the million-dollar question: How...

 Friends! It's been a while, but I've gotten back to the blog! Here's a writing I did yesterday, inspired by the poem "Normal Day" by Mary Jean Irion. Bless this ordinary day… Bless the coffee, which is such an ordinary part of so many of our lives, yet has travelled great distances to cheer our cup. Bless the high lands and steep mountainsides where the beans grow. Bless Tanzania, Costa Rica, Jamaica, Sumatra, Guatemala. Bless the workers who pick and who roast. Bless Fair Trade organizations who ensure these workers are paid fairly for all their labors. Bless the shelf stockers, organizing and reorganizing the shelves so we can easily find our coffee, our cereals, our daily bread. Then bless the water. Bless the first sips of the morning, the ones that rehydrate your parched body. Bless the water, so easily accessible to us, that flows from our faucets, our showerheads, our spigots. And bless the wells and the rain barrels. Bless all those ...

So I was going to write an “end-of-2020” blog. But I didn’t want it to be full of doom and gloom, as not everything was bad! Even in the worst of times, I believe we can still find some things to be thankful for.   Anne Frank once wrote, “ I don’t think of all the misery, but of the beauty that still remains. ”   If she could write that in the midst of the Holocaust, I think I can certainly find some beauty that remains in these times too. Yet I also didn’t want to write something that might come off sounding overly optimistic, as we are not out of the woods yet. Not by any measure. We’ve got many dense forests ahead of us to navigate through. For all the signs of hope, for the signaling of a transfer of power… it always seemed like it was “one step forward, two steps back.”   There was no way 2020 could be wrapped up neatly with a bow.   If 2020 taught us anything, maybe one of those things was not to be so certain of certainty.   “Hold things loosely,” “...

“I don’t know what to say, except it’s Christmas and we’re all in misery.” If you’re a Christmas Vacation superfan, you’ll recognize this quote which Ellen Griswold spoke to her daughter Audrey. The extended family had all shown up for a big Griswold Family Christmas, and Audrey was complaining about having to share a room with her brother. The stress also leads Ellen to light up a cigarette. “We’re all in misery.” Any one of us probably could have said this at some point in 2020. I could list all the ways that this year has been challenging, but I don’t really want to write that list, and I don’t think you need a reminder either! We’ve all been living with the challenges – both those that have affected us all, and those that may have been very particular to you.   We’re making it through, and we can see some light at the end of the tunnel. Yet as we make our way through, we might feel like an old car which has seen its fair share of dings, dents and scratches. We might wonder...

This blessing knew it would find you here. Here- on your couch. Or here- in the woods. Or here- in an empty sanctuary. This blessing doesn’t need to wait for priestly vestments. (Although it can be found there too. Don't leave until you have been blessed; don't miss your benediction!) The blessing knows where to go to find the altars in the world. The blessing speaks to you through women, men, children, animals, nature. This blessing catches you off guard; sometimes you are amazed that you are the intended recipient. This blessing tells you to sit down while she puts on a pot of tea. This blessing comes to you disguised as a cozy quilt pulled up over your lap. The blessing comes as you look up to the tree branches, barren of their leaves now. These dark branches that stand out against the setting sun remind you to stand tall and reach high, even as you remain firmly rooted in the soil. The blessing comes in the gentle, soft notes played on a piano. The bless...

There is a poem by Mark Nepo entitled “Adrift.” (Google search it and you can read the whole thing!) One line in particular stuck out for me: “This is how the heart makes a duet of wonder and grief.” These times certainly feel like a duet of wonder and grief. It’s as if these times are a round, wonder and grief singing over one another. Which one will complete the song? With these two emotions singing through our lives, singing through these days… we kinda just want to know how it will end. Will wonder or grief win the day? The grief… How much we took for granted. The ability to go out and linger at a restaurant, celebrating a birthday, gathered around a table with those you love. The ability to go to a concert, or a live performance, or cheer on your favorite team at the ballpark. The ability to visit with relatives worry-free. Who knows when we’ll be able to do that again. Thanksgiving, then Christmas will pass - without all the usual festivities and gatherings. ...

  How did we get here ? Where the president of the United States is calling Dr. Fauci an “idiot,” and an entire news organization “bastards?” It’s not really surprising coming from DT, but damn… the rhetoric seems to get worse and worse by the day. Insults like this are never o.k. It’s unacceptable talk coming from a “leader,” but perhaps worse yet, he is giving his followers the green light to also talk and act in such despicable ways. This isn’t just election cycle nastiness; it’s a pattern that mustn’t be normalized or accepted. (Side note: if you haven’t already voted… make your plan!) Thank God it is Fall, because at least here in the Midwest, we can look out our windows and marvel at scenes of beauty. The trees in all their autumnal glory, the way the leaves crunch under your feet as you walk down the street. (Minnesotans - that early snowfall, not so nice, but it can be beautiful too, can it not?!!) The cinnamon-laced sweet smell of an apple pie baking in the oven. These...

It was a recent morning, and I was nearing the end of walk on a glorious Fall day. As I walked alone in silence, I took in all the leaves as they turned their brilliant shades of red, orange and yellow. Fall - my favorite time of year. Yet as I walked my mind inevitably turned to current events. The muck of this world we have been slogging through lately. As I walked past political sign after political sign, it felt hard to get away from the tensions that are so thick in the air. On a few streets, there were back-to-back neighbors with opposing yard signs, and not just one! I wondered how these neighbors get along (or not) with each other. Maybe they get along perfectly fine. After all, even Ruth Bader Ginsburg and Antonin Scalia could vigorously disagree and still be friends outside the court. Yet I think all too often our relationships are NOT like that. People these days seem more likely to demean, discount, talk over and past those who hold differing views. Rather than “working acr...

This is a piece I wrote and submitted to  Another Mother Runner  in response to their call for essays entitled "Seven Months In: Life and Running Amidst the Pandemic."  So of course it's a bit more autobiographical and about running... but also about the ups and downs of life during the pandemic. Enjoy!  In these strange times, my emotions have run the gamut from grief to gratefulness and everything in-between. March 13 th . Friday the 13 t h . When hand sanitizer and Clorox wipes became our new best friends. The weekend when most everything changed, running remained a constant. I could still lace up and head outside for some mind-clearing and stress-busting miles.   I was slated to run a half-marathon in June. I imagined it as my “comeback” after a few years off from that distance. But late spring when my depression worsened and my energy dipped, I questioned whether I still had it in me to run that far. Yet I managed to follow a training plan. I ran th...

“People don’t like to talk about it.” It was almost like a triple-dog-dare… I dare you to talk about it! “People don’t like to talk about it.” This was the writing prompt I was recently given from a practice I’m engaged in called “Wild Writing.”   The practice is quite simple – writing coach Laurie Wagner sends out three short videos per week, reads us a poem twice, gives us a few “jump off" lines, and has us write “as quickly and as poorly as possible” for 15 minutes.   The idea is to just write and block out the perfectionistic voice in our heads that tells us we have to “get it right.”    With some practice, it gets easier to tune out that voice.   That makes room for what our “creative unconscious” is trying to tell us, and then write that down.   (Side note: If you’d like learn more, or to give this practice a try yourself, go to www.27powers.org ). The power is in the telling of the true stories. Some stories are easy to share; others re...

"Our Real Work" - Wendell Berry It may be that when we no longer know what to do we have come to our real work. And that when we no longer know which way to go we have come to our real journey. The mind that is not baffled is not employed. The impeded stream is the one that sings. The writing below was based off the above poem, and the writing prompt, "We've come to our real work."  We’ve come to our real work. Now is the time to learn the history. The history that was always there… but maybe we didn’t learn because it got whitewashed in all the textbooks and curriculum. Now is the time to learn the history. The history that was deemed too controversial for a high school. The history that would “ruffle feathers” or make us too uncomfortable.  Instead, we got the cursory introductory course. Now is the time to study our own history. The books, the documentaries, the articles, the memoirs that tell it straight. Thank God for these ...

“Melting Pot” Before May 25th… Before the name George Floyd tragically joined the list of names, the list that should not even exist… Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor, Eric Garner, Treyvon Martin, The list that goes on, and on, and on. Before the nation witnessed the horrific killing of yet another black person at the hands of a racist wielding too much power, harboring too much hate… Before… the racial tensions were already there, make no mistake. The heat on the “melting pot” had been turned up so high, for so many years, so many decades, so many centuries. It was only a matter of time before something was going to burn. Too long in the pot. Too long have we thrown those black and brown bodies in the pot and tried to melt them into “American.” What does it mean to be “American” anyway? “American” like Velveeta cheese? Moldable and meltable? But like this “cheese,” we know deep down that the “melting pot” is not the real deal. The “melting pot” is a dange...