12 01 99

symbols

Tonight she sits alone in her car in the deserted parking lot. The engine is running but the headlights are off. She holds her hands up to the vents, warming her chilled fingers. Snowflakes slowly drift down from the night sky, alighting on the windshield and melting.

The radio is on. Some talk radio station. She doesn't know which one. It doesn't matter, though, because all she needs is the quiet drone of voices in the background.

Fishing beneath her shirt collar for a moment, she pulls out a pewter amulet and a silver pendant on the same black cord. They are warm from resting against her skin, and both are slightly worn on the edges from rubbing together. She gazes at them for a moment before clasping them tightly in her fist.

They are symbols, powerful symbols, of her beliefs and convictions. She wears them everyday, only taking them off when she sleeps. She is afraid of choking on the cord in her nocturnal tossings and turnings. She is afraid of many things.

The silver pendant is a simple rounded triangle surrounding a stylized chalice cup and flame. It is the symbol of a Unitarian Universalist. She does not attend church very often, because she is too lazy to rouse herself early on Sundays. But she identifies strongly with their beliefs, and in times of spiritual need she will seek out the comfort of her church.

There is no overwhelming dogma. There is nothing to memorize before being able to belong. There are no unseen persons who define what will save her soul and what will condemn her. There are only seven simple principles. Seven straightforward core beliefs around which she can build her own view of the spiritual world.

Justice, equity and compassion in human relations. Always. Acceptance of one another and encouragement to spiritual growth within our congregations. Everyone is welcome, no matter their history. She lives to learn. A free and responsible search for truth and meaning. She wonders who she is. They won't dictate this to her; she must discover it for herself. The right of conscience and the use of the democratic process within our congregations and in society at large. She whispers, "Aye." The goal of world community with peace, liberty and justice for all. Everyone. Respect for the interdependent web of all existence, of which we are a part. There is no place where she ends and you begin. The inherent worth and dignity of every person. From the world leaders to the homeless crack addict, everyone has worth.

She opens her hand. The round pewter amulet lies close to the silver pendant, their sides touching. The amulet is of a dragon, its wings and tail forming the circle. The dragon has a faint grin on its mouth. She smiles back.

The amulet was a gift from Dave. It arrived shortly before she met him for the first time, and she cried when she first laid eyes on it. Where the pendant symbolizes her freedom to choose her spiritual path, the dragon represents the path she has chosen. Dave knows her so well.

The physical church is only one place to go to worship. She prefers the raw power of the natural world. The soft call of songbirds is her organ. The arched canopy of tree boughs is her cathedral. The flat rock beside a stream is her pew. Solitude is her time for prayer.

She doesn't believe in a god. She doesn't believe in an all-powerful being who created the universe and everything in it. The simple majesty of nature and the cosmos is religion enough to her. When she watches a storm cloud roll over the landscape, she is awestruck. When she sees the yearly cycle of the seasons (a dance made possible by the landscape, the planet's orbit and tilt, and the whims of the winds), she can't help but feel insignificant. When she points out a planet or star or constellation to a coworker, she is witnessing her Good News to them. Whether they listen to what she doesn't say is up to them.

She runs a finger down the dragon's body. The dragon is a symbol of her beliefs. It is that and so much more. Much more. But she is tired.

Flicking on the headlights, she slides the car into gear and pulls out of the parking lot. As she leaves, the snow whirlwinds behind her before settling back to the ground in silence.

Looking Up

Spinning

"Thus Spoke Zoroaster" by Richard Strauss. AKA the theme to 2001.

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