I always read a lot for pure pleasure, and that continues during my sabbatical. I just read the three Anthony Horowitz mysteries that begin with The Word Is Murder, for example. Lots of Donna Leon during our time in Europe. I reread a couple of Terry Pratchetts. As a sabbatical activity, though, I’m also reading more books that, while also enjoyable, I chose in the hopes that they would expand my thinking in some way. Here’s the list.

The Galaxy, and the Ground Within, Becky Chambers. The last time I noted what I’d been reading, I had just started this. About five minutes later, I finished it. I’m joking, but wow, are her books un-put-downable. I need to read everything she has written.

Several books for my United class: Big Magic, Elizabeth Gilbert; How to Be an Artist, Jerry Saltz; The Creative Act, Rick Rubin; The Creative Habit: Learn It and Use It for Life, Twyla Tharp. More on these when I write more about the class, probably.

Black Buddhists and the Black Radical Tradition: The Practice of Stillness in the Movement for Liberation, Rima Vesely-Flad. Interesting and encouraging exploration of how African-American Buddhists integrate their own heritage in ways that honor and develop aspects of Buddhism that tend to be sidelined in most, predominantly white, “convert” (as opposed to “heritage” or “Asian immigrant”) sanghas: ancestor veneration, for example. And also, and of most interest to me, how Black Buddhists unite political and personal liberation. Again, in my experience US (convert, white-dominated) Buddhism can be pretty focused on the individual, whereas Buddhism has powerful potential for social transformation. So this is exciting. And makes more than anecdotal my experiences of a couple of US Buddhist teachers, Lama Rod Owens and angel Kyodo Williams, who are African-American, are wise, solidly grounded in Buddhism, and passionately engaged in justice-making.

Lost and Found, Kathryn Schulz. Beautifully written–that sounds like I mean poetic, but it’s more that I feel like Schulz is a very thoughtful, dear friend speaking directly to me–essay on loss and its opposites, in the form of a memoir of her father’s dying and the beginning of her relationship with the woman who is now her wife. I had read part of it as an essay in The New Yorker, but I didn’t know there was a book until a colleague recommended it: thanks, Becky Brooks!

A book I had not quite finished, and can’t because I don’t remember the title or author and I can’t find it in the “recently returned” lists on any of my apps. It looks at three kids of color as they try to get an education in the racist conditions of the US’s economic, educational, and incarcarceration systems. It’s pretty recent. If you think you know what it might be, please help!

The Measure, Nikki Erlick. One day every adult on earth receives a box with their name engraved on it and a string inside. A bit clunky; she creates engaging characters, but tends to tell, rather than use their lives to show, how such a phenomenon might change us. But it’s her first novel and I’ll look forward to seeing what she writes next.

Various stories via the podcast Levar Burton Reads. If you love to be read short fiction, I can’t recommend it highly enough. It’s especially good for sci fi / fantasy lovers, because while “the only thing these stories have in common is that [he] love[s] them and [he] hope[s] you will, too,” he clearly has a real love for speculative fiction.

As an aside, I hear there are people who don’t think audiobooks count as reading. I’m sure they don’t think that blind people aren’t really reading, or that children who can’t read for themselves yet aren’t having a significant literary experience when an adult reads to them, or that if your sweetie reads to you in bed he is reading a book but you’re not, so I’m sure they just haven’t thought it through.

And in various stages of completion at the moment are:

Justice is Coming: How Progressives Are Going to Take Over the Country and America Is Going to Love It, Cenk Uygur: political analysis, very engagingly written and already reminding me that US American voters are far more progressive than our federal representatives.

Goodness and Advice, Judith Jarvis Thomson: hard-core moral philosophy by the author of “A Defense of Abortion,” which essay I have preached on because it had a huge effect on how I see the ethics of abortion, and I think it should do the same for our national policies.

The Covenant of Water, Abraham Verghese. the new novel by the author of Cutting for Stone. His writing is great, but somehow the story isn’t as compelling as Cutting for Stone, or maybe it is just too slow or my attention span too short. While sick, I’ve been doing more puzzles and watching movies or TV, less reading. But I am in line for Zadie Smith’s new novel, Fraud, from the library, so I have a self-imposed incentive: finish one novel before I get the point that the next is waiting on the Hold shelf.

What have you read recently that you recommend?


I hope you’ll check out my new column, Ask Isabel: Advice for the Spiritually Perplexed or Vexed

To receive it via email each Tuesday, subscribe for free!

I thought it was time for a roundup of what-all I’ve been doing with this lovely spacious sabbatical time. I like having a lot of projects going–it’s one thing I love about congregation-based ministry–so I’ll give several brief updates.

One thing I wanted to do was keep practicing my Spanish. Of the four basic language skills of reading, writing, speaking, and listening, the latter is probably the one in which I struggle the most. And I love audiobooks. Voila: I am immersing myself in spoken Spanish via audiobooks.

I watched my daughter progress in her French using this method. Now, she also diligently creates and reviews electronic flashcards, seeks out French speakers online, and is wholeheartedly dedicated to the project of learning French, which is how she went from 0 to fluent in under three years. I might not be at that level. Still, it was amazing to listen to her listening to Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone in French. “Are you following all of this?” I asked her, and she said, “Some of it. Well enough. You know–I already know what’s going on, so I can fill in the blanks.” By the time she got to Deathly Hallows, her answer was a simple “Yes.” Over the course of seven audiobooks, her listening comprehension and vocabulary skyrocketed.

So I’m doing the same, though not so systematically. I chose Prisoner of Azkaban because it’s my favorite in the series, and I could feel the leap in my comprehension level between the beginning and the end of the book. I have to slow the narration speed down to 0.8x, but my ears seem to be getting a little faster. When I got to the end of Prisoner–feeling very accomplished–I was a little tired of HP, and besides, even though it’s just a book out of the library and I doubt it puts even a penny in JKR’s pocket, she is on my sh**list and I’d have liked to choose something else. But the list of Spanish audio versions of books I know really well is not that long. You can find my favorite authors on audio, and you can find their books in Spanish translation. Finding the Spanish translations on audio? Not so much.

I was delighted to find The Secret Garden, but there was a glitch–after about a page, the book skipped to the beginning of the next chapter, as if it were just a sample. I settled for The Little Prince, which I don’t love as much as The Secret Garden but has the advantage of simpler language. Same glitch. (All of this was on my phone and on a road trip. Now that I’m back home, I have shot Hoopla a note, hoping it can be fixed.) So it was back to HP, and we are on our way to Hogwarts after the Quidditch World Cup. I’m still at 0.8 speed, but the flow of words is more comprehensible. Who knows, maybe by the time I’ve listened to all seven, I’ll be up to full speed.


I hope you’ll check out my new column, Ask Isabel: Advice for the Spiritually Perplexed or Vexed

To receive it via email each Tuesday, subscribe for free!

Catching up on taiko ~ Treehouse retreat ~ Advice for the Spiritually Perplexed and Vexed

Even on sabbatical, I have a schedule of things that happen every week. I Zoom with my mom on Mondays. I cook dinner on Tuesdays and Saturdays. I have a grad school class on Monday afternoon. I usually do art and piano every day. But it all goes out the window when the unscheduled event of The Crud comes along. For the past four days, I’ve been sick, and for most of that time, it meant I’ve been good for very little else. Walking up the stairs and eating a little dinner is so exhausting that a nap is required afterwards. Hey, that’s how human bodies deal with minor illnesses, and I’m just glad that there is little I have to do that can’t be put off in favor of a nap. Sunday was the day I felt the worst, so I was acutely grateful not to have to lead a service; I had a Texas congregation’s YouTube feed all cued up so I could attend the service, but between 7:50, when I logged on, and 8:00, when the service began, I ran out of energy.

So I haven’t logged on here to report on recent doings. Catchup time.

The taiko class ended with a day for families to come and see what we’ve learned. That was fun–Munchkin said the role reversal was cool, though honestly, she already sees me and Joy do things that are new to us all the time–and also brought some vindication. Drumming is such a workout for the shoulders and arms, including some forearm muscles that I was not fully aware of possessing before now, that I cut “arm day” out of my gym schedule for the duration. As it was, each week my arms would be almost, but not quite, back to normal by the time class rolled around again. She couldn’t quite believe that it could take a week to recover from exertion, but then, she is 16 and works out, runs, and/or goes rock climbing daily. After we played for the audience, they were invited to come try it out, something that Munchkin of course leapt up to do. I showed her the proper form and she did it quite well, and after several minutes of drumming, observed, “I see what you mean about the arms.” Ha!

My retreat at the treehouse was lovely. I drew, painted, collaged and wrote by day, and read mysteries and constructed crossword puzzles in bed during the early night. When you don’t have much electric light, bedtime is 8 pm. There’s a little pond there, and I tried mightily, and pretty unsuccessfully, to paint the subtle yellows and greens of the duckweed that covered the surface. Although I couldn’t see any fish or frogs, I could hear animal life under the water: little gurgles and swishes. Occasionally the surface was broken by something that rose for a moment and left dark, clear water where it had been for a few moments. Deer browsed in the field on the first evening, and I watched them for a long time, and drew them too. I was glad I did, because they didn’t come back at subsequent dawns or dusks, as I’d hoped they would. I heard an owl calling during the night. Our house is near two freeways and the background of traffic is never entirely gone, so the silence from which animal sounds could emerge was special.

As I noted last week, I launched Ask Isabel, the spirituality and religion advice column that I’d been mulling since the spring. During our travels this summer, I did research, made the website, and started writing. The second column posted today: Can a Christian and a Muslim make a life together? I hope you’ll check it out, and subscribe if you’d like to receive it via e-mail every Tuesday. And of course, please share the link with anyone you think would enjoy it.

As I said in my introductory letter, a lot of people have big problems and questions connected to spirituality and religion, and liberal-religious voices aren’t heard nearly enough in the responses, even though we could be of great help. Not surprisingly, many seekers conclude that the choices are some kind of fundamentalism, or nothing. That’s sad. If “Ask Isabel” can offer something to people who might never cross the threshold of a congregation but still have these pressing questions, I will be very happy.

I’d love to post some recent art, but I’ve used up my allotted energy again. Nap time.

One of the things I’ve been doing with my sabbatical is putting foundations under a castle in the air I’ve had in mind for several months: an advice column focused on religion and spirituality. If you’d like it to arrive in your inbox every Tuesday morning, subscribe for free by clicking on the link below. The first one goes out tomorrow!

Ask Isabel: Advice for the Spiritually Perplexed or Vexed

(CW: a blister is pictured in this post. I know that freaks some people out.)

As reported earlier, I have been taking a taiko class on Sunday mornings. Taiko are the Japanese drums usually played in an ensemble; “taiko” means “big drum” in Japanese. If you’ve never seen it, here’s a group from the same place.

Dance Brigade, Dance Mission Theater

We have had five of our six weeks of class, and by last week I had a significant callus at the base of my ring finger as a badge of progress.

This week it was bothering me during class, so I put a bandaid on it. That was a mistake; within ten minutes it had blossomed into a blister. Another badge!

I may be proud of these physical signs, but I’m not a masochist; I’ll put moleskin around it before next week’s class and “show and tell” for our families and friends. It would probably be wise to take off my ring on that hand also.

The students bring the drums into the studio and put them away again after class, and I’ve noticed the last couple of weeks that the drums are considerably lighter than they were before. This is improbable, so it must be another sign of the physical effects of intense drumming, even for only about an hour a week.

It is so much fun. I might need to sign up for the intermediate class.

Water is endlessly fascinating to paint as well as to watch.

(In progress) Oil pastel on panel, 6″ x 6″
Oil pastel on panel, 6″ x 6″

I think this is done.

It is exactly 50 years since September 11, 1973, when the United States government helped topple and kill the democratically elected president of Chile, Salvador Allende, in order to install a dictator more to its liking.

In his 17-year rule, Augusto Pinochet had over 3,000 of his countryfolk murdered and tens of thousands more tortured, and the specter of Chile was felt wherever the CIA and US flexed their muscles, as they often did, during those decades. I wonder what Chile, South America, Latin America, and the United States’s relationship with these countries would be like today if not for that coup.

Some years–those ending in a 1, especially–I think a lot about September 11, 2001. And some years, that earlier 9/11 dominates my thoughts.

Coup of September 11, 1973. Bombing of La Moneda (presidential palace).

Photo: Biblioteca del Congreso Nacional de Chile; permission: Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Chile

At our neighborhood’s Fiesta on the Hill yesterday, I saw a man wearing this t-shirt, and I loved it. He didn’t remember where he got it, only that it benefited a Texas group working for trans rights, and sure enough, I found it easily online, where the profits benefit Equality Texas.

I neither need another t-shirt nor can fit one in my dresser drawers, and as I wrote recently, I’m trying to pare down my stuff, especially clothing. But I am so heartsick about what Texas is doing to trans beloveds: scratch that, physically sick. Luckily, Equality Texas will accept our donations even if we don’t order a t-shirt. So will the National Center for Transgender Equality, Kind Clinic (providing gender-affirming health care in central Texas), Trans Women of Color Collective, and other excellent organizations working for civil rights.

The GOP, in choosing which wedge to drive between people to get out their voters this cycle, has decided its best bet is anti-trans legislation and rhetoric. The Heritage Foundation has proposed that the way to go is to define transgender as pornography, period, and the Republican Party will no doubt follow their blueprint, as it has done so many times before

Meanwhile, plenty of people who identify as liberals, leftists or feminists, including some Unitarian Universalists, smear the struggle for civil rights as some kind of narrow “trans ideology” and claim that trans rights and women’s rights are incompatible. They pour out of cracks like worms after rain every time someone dares to affirm that some people who are women menstruate and/or have uteruses. Apparently they think that worked great for J. K. Rowling. Unfortunately, their ideas about sex and gender ideology, while outdated and discarded by biologists and psychologists, still find a lot of traction in legislatures and courts.

So, while defending science writers on Facebook and wearing t-shirts aren’t all it’s going to take to guarantee trans equality, public witness makes a difference, especially if paired with our money and time. For t-shirt-inclined Unitarian Universalists: you can support Trans UUs in Florida with or without the t-shirt. I do have one of those, bought before my t-shirt moratorium. And make sure you’re seeing action opportunities from Side With Love.

Yes, I definitely enjoy this medium more than the acrylics I used for the first version. I’m not sure whether that’s because I prefer a stick of pigment to a brush, or oils to acrylics, or both, I’d have to try brush painting with oils to find out. I have oil paints, but it’s been a long time since I used them (since high school? Can it be that long?), and I balk at the thought of all that mess. Turpentine, feh.

My dad has painted with water-mixable oils–I had never heard of them until he mentioned them, and still find the concept a little wild–and if I really do decide to do some oil painting, I might get a tube or two and try those. But for now, I am loving oil pastels.

With some trepidation, I share this piece in a rough state, only half-dressed, as it were. It’s all part of my self-therapy to heal from perfectionism.

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