She described an interchange she had with Buddhist teacher Pema Chodron: "I was talking to her about my despair for the state of the world, and she said very quietly, 'You know, Meg, it's going to get a lot worse.' I found that to be the most cheerful statement she's ever given me, because I know it's true." In her keynote address to the 2016 assembly of the Leadership Conference of Women Religious, Meg Wheatley offered a kernel of wisdom that I've been praying with these days. Neither are we immune to the generalized anxiety that permeates our society. We too hit obstacles on our way - past hurts, grief, loss of ministries and identity, a perceived lack of critical mass to make a difference. Yet even we do not have a roadmap to the future during this time of change. Our charisms fill us with purpose and direction. We have the gift and challenge of community. Those of us living vowed religious life in the 21st century are no exception. In a way, we're all like Dora and her companions, lost in the jungle, the path forward unclear and filled with obstacles. We have been called to navigate the way forward through chaos and upheaval. The dual pandemics of the coronavirus and systemic racism have exposed deep and pervasive inequities that are obstacles to true beloved community and equality. During this election season, our national discourse keeps getting stuck in traps of division, discord and cognitive dissonance. It's an image that itself has been stuck in my mind and heart in recent months. The next minute, however, they are stuck in quicksand, trapped, and afraid that they might not go anywhere ever again. They have purpose and direction, even if not an exact road map. One minute they are a rag tag bunch moving along on their journey, essentially now also lost themselves, but still hopeful. You see, in the film, teenage Dora and her friends are exploring the jungle as they look for her parents who have gone missing and, as the title suggests, search for the lost city of gold. Nevertheless, the surprising reason I keep thinking back to that night is a lesson I learned from Dora. No, the film wasn't a masterpiece or even particularly good in a cinematic sense. Yes, it was wonderful to be able to hug my niece and nephew. Yes, it was my last big family holiday celebrated in person rather than on Zoom. In the months since, I've often thought back to that night. A long time ago - really just last Thanksgiving but given that it was pre-coronavirus it seems much longer ago - I was at my sister's house, cuddled on the couch with my nephew and niece, watching the children's movie " Dora and the Lost City of Gold." Who knew how rare that type of experience would become just a few months later: two cousins and an aunt sitting on the couch, not social distancing, members of three different households in blessed close proximity?
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