UUHoulton Support Page
May 13, 2023
Spring colors for Mother’s Day (2023)
Happy Mother’s Day everyone! Spring is in full swing and the momentum of a fresh new season carries us forward. Rev. Mary Blocher leads this Sunday’s Mother’s Day Service with a reflection on feminine energy titled “The Divine Feminine.”
During coffee hour this week we will conduct our second session of “UU101; A Brief History of Unitarian Universalism and Who We Are Today.” We had great turnout for our first session which was history and background. In the second session we look at covenant and UU ideas in the modern world. “UU101″ is a a good introduction for new comers and a good review for those who have been a part of our group for years. There will be ample time for Q&A. Please consider becoming a member of our modest UU group of friends and seekers. More information about how to become a member is included on the church website uuhoulton.org under “about us – new members.”
The YouTube Channel service for this week
is themed on material from Neil deGrasse Tyson’s latest book,Starry Messenger; Cosmic Perspectives on Civilization.
This is the second of two books that we have featured this year on our topic of Belongingness. In a world this large, what is our sense of belonging? In a universe this immense, the question of belonging becomes even more interesting. The title of the message is “Cosmic Perspectives.” Ira Dyer is our special music guest.
Here is a short excerpt from the talk:
Here we are, sitting on this most amazing planet floating in space like a blue marble just the right distance away from our nearest sun, and in most cases we are barely aware that it is happening. Since we are busy with the everyday demands of our life it doesn’t leave much available mental space for thinking about our physical address in the universe. Yet, when we do pause and reflect on our advantageous placement we feel a sense of wonder and appreciation for everything and everyone that is here.
Initially when people started talking about “the overview effect” it was a new and “first time experience.” Now, after 50 years, we’ve been exposed to the concept and watched numerous high resolution video footages and documentaries, so perhaps, it’s lost some of its “wow effect.” I like to think, now that more and more people have been exposed to the overview effect concept, perhaps we’re starting to get used to the idea and we will make it a part of our day to day philosophy when we make decisions about sustainability, economic models and what kind of vehicle we might buy next. You will find the link for YouTube listed below. Please join us for one of the services this weekend.
https://youtu.be/qDqPmNeaxNI
We are currently updating our church directory (we haven’t had an update since Covid) and hope to have it ready by our annual meeting on May 21st. Typical info includes name, address, phone number and email address. Additional information can include pets (name and species) and your birthday (optional). If there have been changes in your info or if you are new, please send the information to dave@backwoodsblog.com and we will include it in the new directory. Thank you for your cooperation.
Have a great weekend!
In Ministry,
Dave
Our Spring concert is tonight on the sanctuary stage. We hope to see you there!!!Unitarian Concert Series May 13, Saturday Night 7PM
THE PELLETIER & LOVEJOY JAZZ ENSEMBLEON THE SANCTUARY STAGE
The Pelletier & Lovejoy Jazz Ensemble
Shelby Pelletier: Lead Vocalist
Cori Lovejoy: Keyboard/Vocals
Carl Gallagher: Soprano/Alto Saxophone/Vocals
David Wells: Tenor Saxophone
Jon Simonoff: Bass
Christopher Pelletier: Percussion
Make plans now to attend The Pelletier & Lovejoy Jazz Ensemble on Saturday evening, May 13th on the Unitarian Sanctuary Stage. This promises to be an amazing show. The group has expanded their lineup since they appeared at the Houlton Coffeehouse earlier this year and we’re excited to have them perform upstairs on the sanctuary stage (where the acoustics are much improved!). Houlton’s very own David Wells also joins the ensemble, although his photo doesn’t appear on the poster. Dancing is encouraged during the show as the parlor space lends itself to movement. When the Pelletier & Lovejoy Jazz Ensemble starts to groove it may be difficult to sit still.
The show starts at 7PM. The Cup Cafe will be open before the show with specialty desserts and will also be open during intermission downstairs and on the main floor. The menu is included below. Advanced tickets are available at the Cup Cafe or The County Co-op & Farm Store in Houlton. See you at the show and bring a friend! It’s also Mother’s Day weekend so keep that in mind.
In Celebration of Music, Poetry and the Arts…
Concessions @The Cup
Tiramisu
Vanilla Bean Cheesecake Bites
Dark Chocolate torte (flour-less)
Hazelnut LattesFull Line of Espresso Drinks
Ticket Prices
$20 at the door
$18 advance
$10 student
children under 12 free
THIS WEEK’S YOUTUBE SERVICE:
HERE IS THE SERVICE LINK FOR THIS WEEK’S YOUTUBE SERVICE
(Please note it won’t be active until 10AM on Sunday morning)
HERE IS THE ZOOM LINK FOR SUNDAY COFFEE HOUR:
Topic: UUHoulton coffee hour & check-in
Time: May 14, 2023 11:00 AM Eastern Time (US and Canada)Join Zoom Meeting https://us06web.zoom.us/j/83679671411?pwd=TWJtK2IrSnFmQ0RUQVBueGVsQjAvdz09
Meeting ID: 836 7967 1411
Passcode: 423001
Calendar of Events @UUHoultonMay 13 Spring Concert in the sanctuary 7PM The Pelletier & Lovejoy Jazz EnsembleMay 13 Sunday Service: Rev. Mary Blocher May 14 UU101 session after coffee hour in the parlorMay 17 Meditation Group 4PM (online)May 21 Sunday Service (abbreviated service) Annual Meeting and potluck downstairsMay 28 Sunday Service: Dr. Bill WhiteMay 31 Meditation Group 4PM (online)June 4 Flower Communion Service Welcoming New Members Ceremony BBQ & Barn Party at the Blocher’s Live music with Bertrand Laurence Special Event: May 23 Tuesday Evening 6:30PMChurch of the Good Shepherd
SAVE THE DATE! Osihkiyol “Zeke” Crofton-Macdonald, Ambassador of the Houlton Band of Maliseet Indians will speak at Church of the Good Shepherd at 6:30 pm on Tuesday May 23. He will speak about the history, current relations, and possibilities for cooperation for the tribe and surrounding towns. This event is open to the public and is a good chance to get to know our neighbors!
Virtual Offering Plate
If you would like to send in your pledge or donation simply drop an envelope in the mail. The address is listed below. You can also send your donation electronically with our new payment system on the church website. Simply go to uuhoulton.org and click “Donate” on the menu and it will explain how the system works. You can set up a regular monthly payment plan or donate in single transactions. Thank you for your generous support!
UU Church of Houlton 61 Military Street
Fragrant
A smell could take Marianna Pogosyan back in time, or she could stay present to this precious, fleeting moment.
The last time I had used my time machine was one year ago, on some Tuesday morning in early March. My husband and I often shared the drive to work, and it was one of my favorite hours of the day. He’d dream about free highways and self-driving electric cars. I’d fret about the kids going to bed too late. Sometimes, he’d watch me in his rear-view mirror as I smeared color on my lips. Finally, I’d pull out my time machine, pop open its coral lid, and bring it to my neck.
One spritz on the left.
One spritz on the right.
Suddenly, the air around me would bloom with notes of jasmine and gardenia, and in a Proustian instant, I would be transported across decades and continents.
And there I am, age fifteen, lounging on a Hawaiian beach. My bronzed feet are sticking out from the white sand my younger brother is piling on me. My father is in the water, lecturing a family of tiny fish assembled around his giant legs. My mother is next to me, with a towel over her shoulders, thumbing through the magazine she bought at the airport. Quivers of ukulele merge with the purr of the waves. The air smells of delicate flowers, just like the ones in my time machine.
Neurobiologically, smell and memory are a well-traveled road. Which means that in some post-pandemic future, thanks to our olfactory-hippocampus superhighways, a whiff of alcohol sanitizers could send us back here. Again.
“What do you think?” My husband’s voice dispelled my mirage of perfect happiness on that Tuesday.
“About what?”
“About why I have this weird feeling that I can’t get enough air?” he grimaced, rubbing his hand on his chest.
I offered my guesses—stress? bad night? cafeteria curry?—the remembered sun still warm on my skin.
But he had his own hypothesis.
“It’s your perfume!” he blurted, opening the windows around me. “You can’t spray that thing in the car anymore. It gives me asthma.”
There was not a trace of my perfume left in the car when we saw each other again. But he still could not breathe. On our way home, we stopped at the ER. He had no fever, so they sent us home, where we pulled the kids out of school and locked our doors. A few days later, frail and shaking, we woke up to a new world of pandemic.
A year on, it’s still the same new world outside our windows.
I bring the silver tip of my time machine to my neck.
One spritz on the left.
One spritz on the right.
And there I go again, tumbling through time and space.
But instead of lying next to my parents on a Hawaiian beach, I am standing in front of my Tuesday morning Cultural Psychology class. We are discussing “untranslatables”—words from different languages with no exact equivalents in English.
The magic of odor-induced time travel comes down to evolution. According to recent research, as our sensory apparatus rerouted to accommodate our growing brains, olfaction appears to have escaped the great rearrangement.
As a result, our sense of smell—unlike the rest of our senses—maintained a direct access to the hippocampus, the memory seat of the brain. Neurobiologically, smell and memory are a well-traveled road. Which means that in some post-pandemic future, thanks to our olfactory-hippocampal superhighways, a whiff of alcohol sanitizers could send us back here. Again.
Which moments, from a year of loss, would you wish to revisit?
Given the choice, I’d plot my time–space coordinates to when my grandmother’s words would finally reach me from across the planet.
“Don’t let your heart get narrow,” Grandmother would conclude our Zoom conversations about war and love, food and grief, everything and nothing. “Make a ring from my words and hang them on your ears,” her halo of white hair nodding on my screen. “Keep your heart wide.”
Grandmother, who in her nine decades had become a reluctant expert in loss, was not specific on the how of her insistent counsel. Apparently, I had to come to it myself.
It wasn’t difficult to keep things wide and spacious when skies were Hawaiian blue. Human hearts opened to joy.
Like heliotropic plants following the sun, they turned toward light.
But when the skies darkened and gales howled, hearts preferred to stay unabashedly narrow, with their locks
intact and guards at the ready.
Last year, the gales didn’t stop. I made peace with the increasingly fragile disarmament treaty I had with my own heart and went for a walk.
In the stretch of woods behind our house, the air smelled of fresh rain. The trees, with their straight backs and curved limbs, were reaching toward the clouds. Some of their trunks looked like the legs of elephants, ancient and stable. Others looked like young storks, nimble and restless, ready to flee with the first kiss of wind. The red-breasted robins had volumes to sing about. The woodpecker didn’t bother with their spring tales.
He had bark to drum on, lunch to secure. Life spewed forth from the pores of the forest floor. My eyes stumbled on color. Purple crocuses, lime moss, white snowdrops, yellow daffodils had overpowered the thawing carpet of dead leaves to announce the change of seasons.
A child giggled. A young labradoodle, blissful for no reason, ran up to me, his caramel-colored ears flapping all around him. He had the same trusting brown eyes as the dog we had just lost.
He bumped his wet nose against my hand, just as Teddy liked to do. He must have smelled the treats that were still in my winter coat pockets. Even his isn’t-this-day-marvelous bark sounded familiar. I swallowed through my smile and wondered if it was possible to love someone at first and last sight. Yes, I decided.
As I watched him bolt toward his owner, the “untranslatables” from my classroom board suddenly swam into the tasty forest air. There it was, the Greek word charmolypi that married happiness and sorrow; there it was, the Japanese mono no aware that alluded to the pathos of impermanence; there it was, the Latin memento mori, the reminder of death and hence, the reminder that as long as breath danced in and out of your lungs as you went about your Tuesday mornings, leaving your footprints on Earth’s four-billion-year-old skin, you were one with the miracle of life. A precious and rare life. And while it is nothing short of miraculous that a network of 86 billion neurons could send us flying to the past on a whiff of a scent, perhaps the greatest gift was in staying put with the fleeting moments in real time.
Because it’s here where we discovered that even the most imperfect of years teemed with micro-bursts of eucatastrophe (English: a sudden happy resolution of events).
Even the queens of the heliotropic flora know how to stay put. At each dusk, mature sunflowers saluted the sun’s
first rays, and kept their majestic heads facing east, once and for all. It’s as if a childhood of tracking the rise and fall of light had them convinced that the sun was always there, whether they saw it or not.
There is a ransom life demands for the proof that the good we seek, just like the sun, is all around us.
The same humble ransom that helped Grandmother survive her gales of unspeakable grief.
The heart, again and again, was to be beckoned to open.
If not as wide as the world itself, then wide enough for any wonders strolling idly, looking for things to do, to slip quietly in.
ABOUT MARIANNA POGOSYAN
Born in Armenia and raised in Japan, Marianna Pogosyan currently lives in the Netherlands, where she is a lecturer in cultural psychology. She is a consultant to international executives and their families on psychological adaptation to life far from home.
The Sunlight of Awareness
BY THICH NHAT HANH
Shine the warm light of awareness on your thoughts and feelings, says Thich Nhat Hanh.
Observe the changes that take place in your mind under the light of awareness. Even your breathing has changed and become “not-two” (I don’t want to say “one”) with your observing self. This is true of all your thoughts, feelings and habits, which, together with their effects, are suddenly transformed.
From time to time you may become restless, and the restlessness will not go away. At such times, just sit quietly, follow your breathing, smile a half-smile, and shine your awareness on the restlessness. Don’t judge it or try to destroy it, because this restlessness is you yourself. It is born, has some period of existence, and fades away, quite naturally. Don’t be in too big a hurry to find its source. Don’t try too hard to make it disappear. Just illuminate it. You will see that little by little it will change, merge, become connected with you, the observer. Any psychological state that you subject to this illumination will eventually soften and acquire the same nature as the observing mind.
Throughout your meditation, keep the sun of your awareness shining. Like the physical sun, which lights every leaf and every blade of grass, our awareness lights our every thought and feeling, allowing us to recognize them, be aware of their birth, duration, and dissolution, without judging or evaluating, welcoming or banishing them.
It is important that you do not consider awareness to be your “ally,” called on to suppress the “enemies” that are your unruly thoughts. Do not turn your mind into a battlefield. Opposition between good and bad is often compared to light and dark, but if we look at it in a different way, we will see that when light shines, darkness does not disappear. It doesn’t leave; it merges with the light. It becomes the light.
To meditate does not mean to fight with a problem. To meditate means to observe. Your smile proves it. It proves that you are being gentle with yourself, that the sun of awareness is shining in you, that you have control of your situation. You are yourself, and you have acquired some peace. It is this peace that makes a child love to be near you.
Adapted from “The Sun, My Heart: Reflections on Mindfulness, Concentration and Insight,” published by Parallax Press.Dr. Bill White recently repaired and
reupholstered the arm rests on one of our favorite chairsin the Unitarian parlor. A BIG THANK YOU BILL!!
Prayer List
For those working for social justice and societal changePray for peaceful action and democratic process in our nationThe war in Ukraine is now in its second yearPrayers for those recovering from the recent earthquakes in Turkey and Syria Prayers for those affected by the mass shooting at the University of Michigan
Prayers for those in California experiencing extreme weatherPrayers for those affected by the mass shooting in Nashville
Prayers to ease the political unrest in the Middle EastPrayers for those affected by the recent violence in the West Bank, the Dome of the Rock and political protests in IsraelPrayers for those affected by the two mass shootings in Louisville
Prayers for those affected by the recent mass shootings in AlabamaPrayers for those affected by the mass shooting in Texas Prayers for Mary Cowperthwaite who lost her brother Neil last week
The Four Limitless Ones Prayer
May all sentient beings enjoy happiness and the root of happiness.
May we be free from suffering and the root of suffering.
May we not be separated from the great happiness devoid of suffering.
May we dwell in the great equanimity free from anger, aggression and exclusion.
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