Bulletin Board

Some reactions to Let the Bones Dance

This book is so hopeful. It has given me a new way of seeing and being–I just never looked, thought, or came at life in this way. It opened up what seemed like a new language in relation to words like embodiment, interrelatedness, connection, mystery, creativity, pain, tragedy, healing, dance. It was especially helpful to think about redemption, healing and the flow of life.

I really liked the way Marcia respected the reader by letting the reader break out on the journey, into new ground through experiencing her words and experiences. It is like she trusts the reader by leaving space, creating space, for us to experience mystery and the image of God in the body. – Mary Norris Oglesby, University Presbyterian

I thought Marcia did a remarkable job of presenting a fairly complex concept in a way that our members could understand and relate to. It seems that so much of what we experience, including faith development and spiritual growth, dwells deep within our bodies. I could tell this message was connecting with class members as they started sharing their personal experiences. – John Peterson, Church of Reconciliation

Poems from 2011 Winter UPC Book Class

unexpected comment
intimate moment
not like mom’s norm
of not touching  not sharing
but that day  in the upstairs bath
between two rooms
we were waiting for my little home perm to set
when she said  ”you have really nice legs”
time stopped  with her honesty
I knew how to be strong
but I hadn’t yet learned  how to receive

— Ann Ehringhaus

First words I remember someone saying to me
About my body then so free
“Watch your weight”
Not the trees, not the birds, not the water
“Watch your weight”
Then the bough broke from the great trunk
Shrill notes escaped falling birds
A culvert from the flowing river
This comment
Meant for my good
My body
A weight to be watched by me
by everyone
The center tried to hold
I broke away
Then the long journey back
to watching trees.

— Mary Norris Ogelsby

What I learned from my mother

Mom the Care Taker
Cared for her brother while her mother works
No Father to help
No time to play
Cared for her daughters while husband works to provide
No time for herself
Cared for her neighbor who had no family around
No time for fun
Cared for her husband suffering with Alzheimer
No time to relax
Who cares for the caretaker that won’t accept care?
God cares

— Cass Swon

Mother, my sister
Aunts and cousins
All in wonder
How very different am I
The younger.
They have blue eyes
Blond hair and fair skin
But I could another
Mother’s been.

— Myra Scott

Locks, Tresses and Braids

“That hair, your hair,” she said a lot,
“That stringy mess. I’m going to cut it off.”
Except she didn’t. She washed and brushed,
Plaited my hair into pigtails, tied bows
On the ends to match my dresses. Hold still.
Don’t wiggle. You pull. Tender headed.
French braids took so long and made my head
Hurt she pulled so tight. ”If you’d sit still,
It wouldn’t hurt. I’m going to cut off
This hair.” My hair that never waved
Nor curled unless she wound it
Into whorls the size of quarters,
Slid in bobby pins to hold it, pinched
My sleep.

So, one summer day, when my mother
Was away, I quietly, quickly, slipped
Into her bedroom, found the scissors
In her dresser drawer, and cut, cut, cut
With a whisk, whisk, whack, off
my wounded, worrisome
Hair. When my mother saw, she gasp,
Then cried, “Why, why, why? What
On earth did you do that for?”

I didn’t know, still don’t, except
I remember even now
How clean, how cool, air felt
On the back of my neck.

— Ruth Moose

Two Poems written collectively at the “Beginning of the Birth Pangs” Workshop sponsored by the Resource Center for Women in Ministry in the South (RCWMS)

Birth

breathing, dancing, shadows
I must loosen the bonds
The anticipatory joy gives way to the expected unknown
only to return again or to morph into the what will be.
patience, strength, fortitude, grace
swirl round and down from mind and will to opening flesh
The blood of life coursing through her veins through the cord into a new life
Your blood no longer joins with mine but each cell of my body remembers your presence
and leaps at your first cry.
Listen to your body’s pain it will show you the way to receive comfort
and knowledge beyond this time
gifted from generation upon generation
who came before you

— Written by a circle of women

Motherhood is

Motherhood is like mysterious nectar
sweet tasting, dangerous, fluid of life
Motherhood is the oldest profession.
Motherhood is a vulnerability to being taught by a child’s wisdom.
Motherhood is reinvention, recreation, and remembrance.
Motherhood is bringing into herself love’s fiercest passion,
bearing love’s hopes and hurts
embracing still an all for the sake of life.
Motherhood is a language spoken by stomachs, hearts, hands, and feet.
Motherhood is the hood I moved to. I was going to be a community organizer but it saved me
from myself.

— Written by a circle of women