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I am both honored and burdened by the moniker of Torchbearer. Any name given by spirit is an honor. Having a direction handed to you, is an honor. The burden really comes from defining your community.  You see, a Shaman cannot exist without a community to support. I have chosen my little congregation in the middle of small-town Michigan; however, it is becoming more and more clear to me that my community is everywhere I can reach from my keyboard.  As I am a programmer, I am reasonably tech-savvy, and I can connect to people all over the world.  The Internet appears to be the community my path leads me to. (yeah, no pressure at all, heh?)

How could I possibly reach out to this huge community when I cannot shape the conversation as I normally would?

Oddly enough, as that fear comes out, in question form, I see several truths in it.

I need to see my personal fear as it comes out.
I need to accept that I have never truly had control.
I need to acknowledge that I know the answer to this question.

Be true, be honest, most importantly with yourself.  Don’t be afraid to show the true you.  And those in need, will find you.

With that said, I would like to declare my intention to the Internet Community.

A Torchbearer is someone who guides you from the place of darkness to the beginning of your path. My goal is to help you find where you need to be.

I am available to people who find that they have gifts and either;
Don’t know what to do with them,
Don’t know where to go from here,
Are scared to experience the gifts,
Or see these gifts as being in conflict with their faith.

Please reach out to me.  If this is you, it is my task to help.

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Sitting down to read my book the other night, and my wife and I get into a brief conversation about tidying the house. This is not my favorite topic as it seems like a setting a goal that you are destined to fail… (And this isn’t just pessimism, this is something that I have set a goal on, and failed at many times over)

This topic was brought on by a book she hi-jacked from her mothers dining room table called: “the life-changing magic of tidying up, the Japanese art of decluttering and organizing” by Marie Kondo.

Through-out the evening, post our initial conversation, she starts spouting random phrases from within the book. She was clearly taking too much glee in this… However, the more she reads out loud, the more interested I am getting.

I looked over and said, “She is talking about Shamanism. Everyday Shamanism.”

And when I realized that that statement didn’t make as much sense to her, as it did to me, I had a great idea for a blog post…. 😉

Basically, this book talks about tidying your home as a microcosm for using shamanism in your community.

Page 4: “[W]hen you put your house in order, you put your affairs and your past in order, too”

The inter-connectivity of all energy. The ability for a single person or item in your community that is energetically disruptive, will affect that of the whole. And it is rarely something so obvious as a blatant, or intentional disruption. It is usually something more subtle. By working to organize and put into order, the overall process your community follows, allows people and energy that would naturally go against the grain, to find their purchase and start going with the flow. By offering structure to people, you offer them a way to more easily find their own way of walking forward. But then it goes further. It talks about energy in a sequential path. It talks about how the connectivity of an energetic body (a person or a community) is directly connect to its past, and by clearing the present of excess, you are opening access to the past in a way that is more clear.

Page 23: “Putting things away creates the illusion that the clutter problem has been solved.”

A large problem I see in the society at large is that we like to avoid the problem. And I am not pointing fingers, we all (including me) do this. It is much easier to find a reason to not face the problem head on, so we brush it off to the side. And in the moment, we feel good about having dealt with it. Until the problem becomes apparent again, usually compounded. Ms. Kondo talks about how storage can be dangerous to tidying. Well, as mentioned to me recently by our wonderful Rabbi, “we do people a real disservice by not being straight forward with them, and identifying a problem.” By addressing the problem now, you are not only taking care of it, you are releasing the energy that would be pent up in that particular dilemma, and nudging the source of the problem to be aware enough to not repeat it. Whether it is an item in your hamper, a book on your shelf, or a person in your community. You do them a true disservice by delaying a difficult choice.

Page 41: “take each item in one’s hand and ask: “Does this spark Joy?” If it does, keep it, if not, dispose of it.”

Wow. I hardly need to speak on this one. She is talking about tidying, I could say that about energy or a person in your community. (Outside of the whole, “in one’s hand”) When you are doing your best to physically, and energetically change the world around you for the betterment of that community… You have to look at each thing you are working with deeply. This means you cannot just “judge the book by it’s cover”, you have to look at it truly. See the energy it has, feel that energy. Find the complicated nuances around it, and decide how it works with or against the purpose. And decide, individually, how they can be utilized. And take the time to sense, feel, and let yourself respond.

But I think the piece that is much more important about this statement is: trust your own feelings. Trust yourself. Do not let ego stand in your way, do not let pride change your views, just listen to your intuition, and trust.

Page 190: “In essence, tidying ought to be the act of restoring balance among people, their possessions, and the house they live in.”

When you are working for the betterment of your community, you have to realize that the effort you put, the difficult and challenging choices you make, are for the purpose of restoring balance overall. Every individual task you make, be it calling a senator, casting the runes, praying to a Goddess, or forcing your will onto something else, come from the pretense that you clearing the way for the true balance to be restored. This is exactly why you cannot force things based on how you think they should be. You need to trust that you do not know all, and that you only listen to your inner voice, and move forward with your best intention. I have found that restoring balance is a challenge because my perception of balance, might not be accurate. I have to move forward to shape the community to be better for what the community needs to be, not moving forward to shape the community into what I think it should be.

I have not yet read most of this book. But I strongly recommend that you pick up a copy, read it, and think about how this out look can be linked to how you can change the world around you. How this microcosm is really a sampling of everyday shamanism.

Cited
Marie Kondo. “the life-changing magic of tidying up” . Ten Speed Press Publishing 2014.

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The following is a sermon I wrote and shared at the Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Grand Traverse on the Sunday before Dr. Martin Luther King Jr day.

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It seems that each time I stand at this pulpit, I am asking you to take just one more step  on your personal path.  Not today.  While you are always important to me in these conversations, today will be about me.  Me, and the journey I have undertaken to learn about privilege, my fears about it, and why it is SO important for me to change.

I have experience with what it is like to see another’s privilege, but I have also experienced what it is like to learn about privileges I have, that others do not.  And I think most importantly, I am starting to see how my own participation, willing or no, perpetuates a culture that makes it acceptable.

When researching for this sermon, one of the papers I read was called, “White Privilege: Unpacking the invisible backpack” by Peggy McIntosh.” And one of the privileges she recognized that she had was, “I am never asked to speak for all the people of my racial group”

I am not speaking to you for Hispanics, I am speaking to you for myself, Marco Cabrera. I speak to you as the entirety of who I am. And I would like to share with you some short glimpses into what helped me become who I am.  At the time I felt the advantages others had, I was not yet an adult, I was not economically stable, I was not in the gifted program, and I was not of the prominent race in my class.

It was fall of 1996, I was sitting in class, doing my best to take notes, but realizing that I really didn’t understand this material.  I started to doodle on the page, trying to concentrate, but not being able to take in any more of what she was saying.  It was a few moments before I realized that the teacher had stopped speaking.  I looked up to see that she had stopped and had been staring at me. “Marc, I don’t have time to waste speaking if no one will listen to me.  What would your mother say, if I called her to let her know you weren’t paying attention in my class?” My mind flashed to 2 weeks prior, when I had had enough of the abuse, and I decided it was time to leave my mothers home. I realized that I was the only person in that class, who had never had the support of a parent when school-work was difficult. I thought hard about those last two days in my mothers home, when for the first and only time in my life I had seriously contemplated suicide. How my mother could stand by and watch what was going on, and not stand up for me. I thought about how I had no idea who this woman could be, as she wasn’t the woman I thought my mother should be. I thought about the moment that I realized that I wasn’t the problem and decided that I was leaving my mothers home forever.  And I came up with the only response I could, that wouldn’t have me break down in tears before the class. “To be honest, I have no idea how my mother would respond to that.”  I was asked to leave the room for being flippant.
******
In the winter of 1998, and after the third week in a row, where I had to make the daily decision to either eat, or put gas in my car. I realized I needed the ability to work more hours.  As I was still in my senior year of high school, I learned about the work-study program through my school. So, I went to my counselor to have the conversation about how to make that happen.   I had never met with this councilor before as my usual councilor had gone to West Senior high when the schools split.  We sat down to discuss the schedule for my upcoming semester of school.  He instantly approved of my choice to do work-study for half of my day. It was when he looked at the other aspects of my schedule he started to show his concern. “I see you have anthropology listed as your first hour class, are you sure that is what you want?”  I responded, “Yes, sir.”  He looked down at his paperwork, “You do realize, that there will be a fair amount of reading in that class.  And homework…”  I stared at him for a long moment.  Then I asked, “Did you just infer that I can’t read?”  He turned slightly away from me, and said more deeply into his paperwork, “No, no, not at all.  I just wanted to make sure you knew that this course wouldn’t be one you could just stagger in and sleep through.”
******
It was 2001, my girlfriend (now my wife), and I were discussing our High School experiences.  I would talk about how it was hard for me.  Looking back, it was easy to see that I had challenges to overcome, and ones that some of my teachers really were unable to deal with.  I was one student who could have really used some help.  And there was none.  My wife’s experience was quite the opposite, despite being at the same school, around the same time.  She had teachers and councilors going out of their way to explain to her options she had, applications she should fill out for scholarships, information about events she might find stimulating.
******
Looking back, I was able to see a huge gap in the way I was treated from others. I asked myself, about all of the situations that came to mind:

Was this because I was Hispanic?
Was this because I was poor?
Was this some strange combination of effects built from either or both?

In Ms. McIntosh’s paper, another note she made was, “If my day, week, or year is going badly, I need not ask of each negative episode or situation whether it has racial overtones.” The fact that I cannot know for sure, makes it easier to sweep these incidences under the rug.  Even in my own thoughts.

In my journey to who I am, at some point, I crossed a threshold.  And I started to look for my privilege. It had been so easy to see where others had advantages that I didn’t have access to, but when I started to look at the advantages I had, and started to see how others were limited for things they could not control, it changed me.

There is no privilege that I have learned I carry, that I can unsee.

I would like to share with you some short glimpse into what helped me become who I am.  At the time I felt the advantages I had over others, I was an adult, a male, had a comfortable paying job, a wonderful family, and my identity, attraction, expression, and sex, all align with the social norms for a male.
******
In front of this very room, I stated that in over 2 years of attendance, I hadn’t seen the sign indicating that we are a “Welcoming Congregation”, and how upsetting that was for me.  I bring that up because it was an eye opening moment for me in understanding my privilege.  I was one of the people in this congregation that assisted in making the 2014 Pride Event happen.  When I went to my first meeting, I talked a little bit about this, and I saw the looks on the other member’s faces.  I saw that every one of the members of the LGBTQA+ community had seen it.  Every one of them, had experienced some level of concern in coming into our building.  Concern that their physical and emotional safety could be at risk. They saw the sign because they were looking for a sign.  And it eased their hearts.  As I saw this expression, and heard their words almost in unison, “I saw it.”  The only thing I could do was to respond with, “Wow, that must be my privilege.”

So, as I was unable to see it before, I wasn’t able to really appreciate the challenges they faced in walking into any and every building.  I had to offer them an apology.  And in my privilege, of not seeing this, I criticized you.  So I would like to apologize to you as well.  All of the efforts you put forward, have done their job.  You have made those who need to see that sign, know that they are welcome, and they are safe.  I am truly sorry that in my efforts to help, I made your efforts seem less.
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In December of 2014, I reached out to speak with the director of my children’s school due to some concerns about the pervasive religious overtones that come so easily in December of each year.  She said to me, “Yeah, I have to work with teachers to ensure they don’t get overly joyful or excited about the holiday season, as we have to remember that for some of our kids, the holiday break doesn’t ring with excitement or Joy.  When they leave school, they leave the only place they know they can consistently get two meals a day.”
******
This gets me thinking of all the things I cannot see.  Thinking about all of the things that are still buried in the depths of my invisible Misa.

How would I feel, in any of the situations I came up with?

• Each time I notice someone in their car as I walk by, and they quickly lock the doors when they notice me.
• If I knew that someone else made 20% more than I do in the same job, because of their gender.
• If I stood up to someone, and was informed that I was bossy and difficult to work with.
• If I took a job with an affirmative-action employer, and never knew for sure if I was hired due to my skills, or my color.
• If I were prohibited from flying because my size requires me to purchase two tickets – and that put it out of my price range.
• If I were carrying a bottle of wine down the hallway to our hotel room, and someone opened their door and told me to deliver a bottle to them around 10.
• If I wanted to marry the person I loved, and learned that I couldn’t due to someone else’s religion.
• If I was turned away from the death bed of that same loved one, because I had never been able to become their spouse.
• If I needed to use the restroom, saw that there was a Mens and a Womans, and wasn’t sure which was more appropriate.
• If I went to vote, and learned that I couldn’t because I didn’t have a valid drivers license.
• If I call 911 for help, what response should I expect when the policemen arrive and all I can say is: I CAN’T BREATH!

The subtlety of these things are what make them so dangerous.  And this is so important because even the ones that aren’t so subtle, are happening. They are part of the ebbs-n-flows of this life we live.  I fear that by not standing up, and by not saying No, I am allowing these things to infect the interdependent web of all existence of which we are a part.

In 1963, Dr. Martin Luther King gave his historic “I have a dream” speech. When I first heard this, I was unbelievably moved.  And I foolishly carried the assumption that by now, in 2015, over 50 years later, this speech could be less relevant.  Perhaps that too, was part of my privilege.  But this speech is still every bit as relevant as the day he spoke it.

There are thousands of aspects of each one of us here.  Good, bad, and everything in between. They are exactly as they are, to make us who we are right now.  And we are wonderful. If I may say it, I, too, have a dream.  I dream of the day when all of human kind can look at each other and not see all of the differences, but see the reality of who each person is, and realized that they are beautiful for the complexity that makes them who they are.

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Reviewing my Facebook stream, I stumbled across on of those posts that was basically saying, “if you don’t pass this on, something terrible would happen.”  And it made me feel truly sick.

To the point that I wanted to shut down my computer and walk away.  I went through my usual frustration about why someone would pass on that tripe, and I came to a realization.

The image was Photoshopped.  And while that was a pretty obvious statement from the beginning, I realized that someone put a lot of effort and energy into making that image disturbing, and passing it around to disturb people.  I have seen many terrible things, and many of them are true things that can and do happen to people.  But this image was different.

Through an image, shared on Facebook, I could feel the response in my soul of this persons ill intent.

In an attempt to not further feed that effort, I would like to simply respond here and state that, sharing things on a social media platform, will neither alert Bill Gates that he should send you a check, nor will it give you ill luck, or a horrible disease.

Let’s be careful with what we are sharing, it can do worse things than you expect.