A Weird Day

                                       Labyrinth at St Christopher's Episcopal Church, Pensacola, FL. 

Today is a weird day. It is the day that I went into a day surgery center and almost did not make it out alive. 

Apparently, several medical people informed me that I suffered a severe vasovagal syncope episode {otherwise known as fainting.} Fainting occurs when a person's blood pressure drops. Normally, someone who faints will come to consciousness in less than a minute.  It is rarely a medical emergency that can be life-threatening. 

However, this was not the case for me one year ago today. I was sitting in the prep area, cold, hungry, thirsty, and grumpy when a nurse stuck me with an IV needle. 

I blacked out, and what my soul experienced when my blood pressure dropped to dangerous levels Brian cannot seem to remember, but he said the bottom number was 45 or 50. 

 In other words, I was damn close to death. 

 I do not know what happened on this side, buy I do know what my soul experienced near the veil. 

 Soul life beyond the veil is perfect. At the risk of sounding crazier than people already believe me to be, I'm not sharing exactly what my soul experienced during this medical emergency.  This event only makes sense scientifically. I'm fully aware of the physiology of this emergency situation. My blood pressure dropped too low, and my heart rate plummeted. The team injected Epinephrine into my IV and I woke with a jolt. 

 Honestly, it was the rudest " awakening" I've experienced. I remember a male voice saying over and over " Stay with us, Sarah, Stay with us. "

 Once again, I was cold, hungry and grumpy. 

 I do know that I am still alive because there is unfinished business here on this plane. 

In the year since this event happened, I've made some changes. 

Life is short, and no one's tomorrow is a sure thing. 

I'm still here. 

Sarah Beth McCarren 

    
 

A Musical Family

                                                    Brian's new-to-him Gretsch guitar 

We are a musical family. 

I'm on the piano, and last week, we bought Brian a well-cared-for Gretsch guitar. He had played some as a much younger person and has been staring at the guitar displays every time we go into our local full-line {they do EVERYTHING, sales, repairs, lessons, audio, piano moving-- you name it!} and locally owned music store. I take lessons there, so he had plenty of time to drool at all the guitars. 

Shameless plug : Blues Angel Music . 

If COVID taught me anything, it is that Life Is Short  . We figured out that we could sell a few of his well-loved but very seldom used outdoor hobbyist gear and use that money to buy his guitar. Someone else can now afford a decent hunting rifle {I'm relieved he never got into that sport, as I am very nearly a total vegetarian.} and some of his heavy fishing tackle. {He still likes to fish, but not as often nor needing the strong rod-and-reel setups. }

You must have a room, or a certain hour or so a day, where you don’t know what was in the newspapers that morning, you don’t know who your friends are, you don’t know what you owe anybody, you don’t know what anybody owes to you. This is a place where you can simply experience and bring forth what you are and what you might be. ~Joseph Campbell

I actually DO have a room where I go at least once each day. My music room is a sacred space, a place where I go to leave the troubles of this messed-up world behind. A " sanctuary" need not be a place of worship, my music room is a safe place for me to go to just be-- even if I don't touch the piano keys. 

                               Pardon the " mess" , but this is my Music Room" As you can tell, it is Sarah."

Music is ' not " extra". Music is essential to maintain our humanity-- especially in this divided world. Music unites us-- there is a style of music that can suit anyone. 

Music education is also essential. I only have one regret: that I waited until middle age to start taking lessons. I'll never be a great pianist, and I am okay with this fact. I'm grateful now to have a small repertoire of songs that I am confident enough to play-- without much thinking on my part. 

Here is an interesting article on the therapeutic effects of playing piano. 

https://coltharppianoworld.com/why-piano-playing-is-therapeutic/

Even though private piano lessons are NOT " therapy: I've noticed a big improvement in my hand-eye coordination in the few months that I've been taking lessons. The hope is for my right-brain and left-brain halves to communicate better-- but that will take time. Using two hands at the same time is a big struggle for me, so I am grateful that there is no timeline. I'm learning at my own pace with a patient teacher. 

It is fun watching Brian play his guitar-- he remembers a lot from years ago and the gently used guitar has a GREAT sound. I enjoy listening to Brian play chords on his guitar as much as I enjoy sitting down at my piano and making my own music. 

I'm wishing everyone, peace, love and music this weekend. 

Amen. 

Sarah Beth McCarren

2 Easter 2023 

John's Gospel: Religious Trauma and Marginalized Persons

                                        
                                           As a cisgender woman, I enjoy some privilege that some of my siblings                                                do not. 

My name is Sarah, and my pronouns are she/her/hers. I'm in my late 40's and my pronouns have always been she/her/hers. 

  First of all, what the shooter in Nashville did was horrendous. Whatever reasons will come to light in the coming days, the fact is she murdered children. 

 Murder is never okay. 

 Yet I want to take a moment to talk about religious trauma and its effects on people. Certain stripes of Christianity has a long, sad history of violence towards people whom " they" deem unworthy, " demonic" or " wrong" according to their values. 

 In recent times, we are seeing a huge attack against our transgender siblings-- fueled by the theology of some Christians. One need look no further than my home state of Florida to see how anti-transgender laws and policies in PUBLIC, tax-supported institutions such as schools are becoming a reality. 

I wonder if religious trauma might have fueled some of the Nashville shooter's anger towards her former school? Again, this theory would not excuse her behavior, but perhaps would shine a light on a big problem in this country. 

Churches {and probably other religious institutions} can be cruel. To this day, I cringe when I hear The Gospel of John read and the writer says' the Jews' in what I imagine in a condescending tone. Knowing that John's otherwise beautiful message has been distorted and used to stoke the fires of antisemitism for centuries is the root of my complicated relationship with John's Gospel.  As an unchurched child growing up in rural Appalachia with a Jewish mother, I've heard some cruel comments directed at me and my interfaith family. The haters almost always John's Gospel as the basis for their hate. 

All this to say that my own experience with Christian hate makes me sensitive to how my faith{and it is a miracle that I became and am staying a Christian} has been weaponized against others. 

Our transgender siblings are especially vulnerable, as the science of gender is still relatively new. Other people who identify as a part of the LGBTQ+ alphabet soup share in this vulnerability, as do Black people, immigrants, Muslims and Jews. 

Religious trauma can happen when a person grows up in a faith community that will not accept them. I've heard stories from people who share how their churches rejected them for being _______. { Fill in the blank}and it saddens me. On a personal note, I know what its like when the established religion of your rural Appalachian culture marginalizes my entire family for being interfaith. 

Again, Christians can be cruel. Lately we've been especially cruel to transgender Americans. 

Violence is never the answer, and we DO need to reform laws concerning firearms. At the same time, we Christians need to take an honest look at ourselves and how the Way of Love, which was founded by one traveling Jewish rabbi so long ago has traumatized others in His name. 

Amen. 

Sarah Beth McCarren 

My " Room Of Her Own'

 

                                           Hand Selfie 

Brian bought me a gently used full electronic keyboard for an early birthday present. Although this one is older than my previous, 61-key electronic piano keyboard, it has WEIGHTED KEYS { its a big deal for me-- and a necessity for any serious beginning pianist} 

To accommodate the bigger, heavier instrument, I finally cleaned out my " junk room" and turned it into a Music Room/ Library. Brian is thrilled that the room is neat, and I am thrilled to have my own space in our small city cottage. 

I am pleased with the results! Check it out: 

                                           Sarah Beth's Room of Her Own 

I'm still waiting to get the adjustable piano bench-- one that will have a drawer for all my music and various music-related things{My birthday is in May}. When this happens, the unsightly pile of sheet music and music books will not be seen. 

I put my framed photo of Doc on my piano, where I can see her smiling at me, healthy and whole { as when I was in college}. I imagine she is shaking her head at my desire to learn popular and rock music over classical pieces, but I also imagine her smiling at me when I do well in my lessons.  It is not shown in this photo, but I placed a framed photo of myself with my piano teacher. 

I think Doc knew her professionally, and probably would agree that she is the " right" piano teacher for my needs and goals. For several reasons, I will never be a great pianist, but with a lot of work I can increase my skills and re-connect some damaged neural pathways. 

I'm happy with my " room of her own" , and will sign off with this quote from Virginia Woolf. 

" Women have sat indoors all these millions of years, so by this time the very walls are permeated by  their creative force, which has, indeed, so overcharged the capacity of bricks and mortar that it must needs harness itself to pens and brushes and business and politics. "

Preach it, sister! 

Namaste...

Sarah Beth McCarren 

Piano and Healing: Let It Be

 

                                              I re-visited " Let It Be" with my piano today. 

I'm making strides in my Piano Journey. My teacher was pleased with the progress I've made since my last lesson a couple weeks ago. My sight-reading skills have improved, I even played a new-to-me song 'sight unseen" for my teacher and am pleased at the results. 

 It has been a rough start to 2023 for me. Brian and I lost a dear friend suddenly to a cardiac arrest in February.  To be honest, I am still processing this loss: unlike most of the other losses in my life, this one caught me totally by surprise. He was 53 years old, and Brian and I have been friends with his entire family for well over a decade. Anthony was an older brother to me: We picked on each other as only siblings do but I loved him as one of my chosen family. I've known their eldest child since they were in kindergarten, and now they will soon graduate from high school. His widow is a friend and also a spiritual sister of The Order of The Daughters of the King. 

When Doc died, my priest's advice about moving through grief helped a lot. She said " The only way around something {in this case grief over my first significant loss of my life}is through it. " She is correct: I've worked through most of my initial stage of grief, but I realize I'll miss Doc forever because I loved her as a spiritual mother.

 Doc, I believe, was ready to meet God. I saw her for the last time a month before she finally died and I felt her weariness. However, that does not mean I don't feel her absence acutely every day. 

 Additionally, we ran into some stumbling blocks regarding paying for Brian's medicine. {Apparently specialty pharmacies can get away with charging exuberant prices for their products.} We've thankfully found a way to get the needed financial aid for Brian's medicine, and for this I am grateful. 

 Along with my husband and church community, piano has been a constant source of hope and renewal for me. I've taken the discipline of playing my prayers each morning as part of my prayer time. Making music has been physical, emotional, and spiritual therapy for me. It matters not if I play pieces from my Easy Hymns book, my Disney Songs for Beginners book, some sheet music I'd bought, or working on my favorite Beatles' song. 

Making music in any way IS a form of connecting with our Creator-- as a person who has sang in choir most of my life, I've always known that music connects us to our Creator. Even something as basic as playing 8-finger scales {a task that my clumsy hands are not fond of completing} connects me to Abba Creator

Piano, since it is still new to me, demands that I bring my full self to the bench. My mind focuses on reading the music and coordinating with my hand and finger muscles to play the correct notes. Additionally, I have discovered that playing pieces that I know well helps me settle into a peaceful, contemplative mood. 

The words of the Lennon/ McCartney song serve as a prayer in their own right. 

When I find myself in times of trouble
Mother Mary comes to me
Speaking words of wisdom
Let it be

And in my hour of darkness
She is standing right in front of me
Speaking words of wisdom
Let it be

Let it be, let it be, let it be, let it be
Whisper words of wisdom
Let it be

And when the broken-hearted people
Living in the world agree
There will be an answer
Let it be

For though they may be parted there is
Still a chance that they will see
There will be an answer
Let it be

Let it be, let it be, let it be, let it be
Yeah, there will be an answer
Let it be

At my piano bench, I find a sacred space-- a space that is as sacred as any church nave-- where I meet The Holy. I lay down my burdens and... Let It Be. 

Amen. 

Sarah Beth McCarren 

Lent 2 2023. 

Blastoff to Huntsville

                                                  Me in front of the " brain" of the Saturn V . Huntsville Alabama US Space and Rocket Museum. Photo by Brian

Brian and I took a mini road trip north to Huntsville, Alabama today. The purpose of our trip was to visit the world-renowned US Space and Rocket Museum.  Huntsville is less than an hour from where we had our rented cabin, and since the weather did not look favorable for outdoor activities, we chose to get our steps indoors. 

 The museum did NOT disappoint. As a child growing up in the 1980's the shuttle launches were big deals to both me and my younger brother. Sally Ride was a personal shero of mine until her death. Brian, having grown up in Florida-- also has a connection to the Space Movement. {He tells everyone-- and I mean everyone-- the story of his parents meeting at Banana River Naval Air Station, which is now Cape Kennedy.  

                                          Brian in front of a space shuttle. Photo by me. 

 Today reminded me that we humans are capable of doing great things to advance our species when we work together. the US Space program had been a team effort with Russia-- a nation which the US has not had good relations. {we still don't but that is for different reasons} We had to " play nicely" with the neighborhood bully. 

When we co-operate, humanity advances. When we fight amongst ourselves, we stay stagnant or regress. Together, we put people in orbit and landed on the moon. We built working international space stations. Our satellite technology keeps improving communications {How many young'uns know how to read a paper map?}

Yet we still are territorial and look for people " not like us" to scapegoat. As communities and a nation, we are unwilling to share our resources with others whose ideals do not line up 100 percent with ours. 

Imagine what we human can do to repair the world...  tikkun olam...if we just see each other as PEOPLE... siblings of the human race. By choosing to continually divide ourselves, we are making our species weaker. 

John Lennon said it best in his _Imagine_ lyrics: 

"Imagine there's no Heaven

It's easy if you try

No Hell below us

Above us only sky

Imagine all the people
Living for today
Ah, ah, ah-ah

Imagine there's no countries
It isn't hard to do

Nothing to kill or die for

And no religion, too

Imagine all the people
Living life in peace
Yoo-hoo, ooh-ooh

You may say I'm a dreamer

But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will be as one

Imagine no possessions

I wonder if you can
No need for greed or hunger
A brotherhood of man

Imagine all the people
Sharing all the world
Yoo-hoo, ooh-ooh

You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will live as one"

That is my prayer. 

We need to live as one HumanKind. 

"You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one"

Namaste...

Sarah Beth McCarren 

Appalachian Americans: Born, Not Made

 

                                View from atop Ebell Mountain, in Blount County, Alabama. 

Brian and I are taking a much-needed few days away from our beloved Pensacola, Florida to refill our " cups" in the Alabama Appalachian Mountains. 

Brian did not want to deal with Atlanta traffic, so we are staying in a VRBO cabin in unincorporated Blount County, Alabama. 

Yes, friends, Alabama has some mountains. {technically foothills, but true elevation}

Today we drove to the top of Ebell Mountain, and hiked some easy trails around the park that is situated there. 

Friends, it felt so damn GOOD to be on some ancient rocks and soil of the Appalachian Mountains. I love living in Pensacola, and {for many reasons} I never want to return to where I grew up but this dark soil of these ancient rocks that comprise these Appalachians is part of one's DNA. 

Pensacola is home, I'll stay there for the remaining years I have on Earth. Yet my soul longs to hike elevation: particularly the elevation that reminds me so closely of my youth. For me, the BEST ting about growing up where I did is the biodiversity-- especially the biodiversity of the plant life. 

 Granted, the Appalachian Mountains are not homogenous. I am from the " ridge-and-valley Appalachians, and in Blount County, Alabama, there are technically foothills. At any rate, it is NOT sea level. 

 Brian mentioned at the amount of poverty we saw as we drove through Alabama north of Birmingham. I remarked that poverty is something that Appalachians have dealt with since the first White people settled in these woods. I might have grown up solidly middle-class, but poverty was a reality that affected many of my schoolmates. Poverty is a uniting factor in a diverse Appalachian- American population. One need not grow up poor to see how the poorest Americans struggle. 

I also understand that Appalachian Americans are some of the hardest-working, big-hearted people I've known. My understanding and love for these people-- my people-- is why I am wary of the stereotypes that the media {TV and movies, especially} portray the people of this region. 

Do I think Appalachia is a utopia. NO! {I've never voted like most {almost all} rural Appalachians. Are there some real social problems here? Yes! 

 I feel blessed to be able to spend a few days each year in these old mountains. 

Appalachian Americans are born, not made. 

Sarah Beth McCarren