Moments for Common Nourishment

Anna Blaedel

On melancholy and sitting with chickens

On melancholy and sitting with chickens

By abby mohaupt Mary Oliver wrote that “Sometimesmelancholy leaves me breathless…”In the wilderness that is the dual pandemics of COVID-19 and white supremacy -- melancholy seeps into my bones and steals the breath out of me -- breath that I haven’t lost to illness or hasn’t been stolen from me. I am a white body in this world, a body privileged to so far escape being exposed to the novel coronavirus. My vocation is to care for the earth, which is intimately tied up in the care of all bodies in this world. It is a holy call, wholly connected to the flourishing...

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Anna Blaedel

The force of joy in the work of liberation

The force of joy in the work of liberation

By Rev. Anna Blaedel Through this last year's intense unfoldings, I've come to think about liberation as survival plus joy. Liberation = Survival + Joy. In order to get free, to live free, to practice freedom, to enflesh collective liberation, we need to create conditions conducive to survival, and we need to cultivate and nurture joy.I confess, it is a hard time to write about joy. It is a hard time to write about joy because for so many right now survival is, and feels, so precarious. The floodgates of racist, state-sanctioned violence are flung wide open, and the fervor...

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Anna Blaedel

The Whole World Is Listening

The Whole World Is Listening

By Saunia Powell  COVID-19 has taken so much from our ability to be there for one another. As a hospice chaplain, I have not been allowed to enter the facilities where our patients live. I talk to patients and their family members on the phone, but that isn’t what I would consider connection. I can share some words of care, but I want to share my body in the room, patient and listening. Listening on the phone doesn’t count - much like not turning on your camera in a Zoom meeting - who knows where your mind is when no...

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Anna Blaedel

Life in seeds and soils

Life in seeds and soils

By Rev. Anna Blaedel Almost every morning, in this particular season of life, I start the day by walking outside, and checking on the garden. It’s a very small garden, in the one small corner of space where there’s sufficient sun, yet still it is brimming with life. I make a little loop. I run my fingers along the frilled edges of kale, the soft shine of chard. Good morning, parsley. Good morning, broccoli. So glad to see you, blossoms of jalapeños and habañeros and carolina reapers, to come. The lettuce is tired, resting, turned bitter by the heat. The...

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