My Anonymous Church

I built a studio in my bedroom. I turn on the red lights and the green lights and make music.

“Don’t Shoot!” There’s this office building in midtown with two larger than life photographs of dancers. The first time I saw them, I did what many of us do nowadays, I whipped out my phone to snap a picture. Out of nowhere, a guard appeared and said, “You can’t take photos in here!” Now, every time I enter this building...I snap another photo. The size of the image and the exuberance of the dancer feels holy to me. How can you stop someone from wanting a piece of something so beautiful?

A lot of times when I’m not feeling my best I’ll call someone close to me and it’ll make me feel better. It just feels really good to hear other people’s voices.

Every spring since 1970, I have welcomed the blooms of this spliced dogwood which has both pink and white blossoms. It had endured for many years before that. Its presence reminds me of the rebirth of living things every spring, and the ability to outlast many storms. It gives me inspiration to keep going, to continue to love life. It reminds me of God speaking to Job. Where were you when I was creating the dogwood tree?

Bangalore India, an image of a tree that is very old, and has grown around this Hindu shrine. Church so to speak, is everywhere, in everyone if we just look.

Immersing myself in water—at a pool, pond, lake, or ocean—takes me to a meditative place where I gratefully abandon conscious thought and feel connected to the oneness of the universe.

Ha! The toilet. I always get on my knees before shows and it is always a shitty bathroom.

When I looked through my photos - thousands of them - it struck me that my ‘church’ or spiritual center is in my heart. I know that my higher power or my center is love which I learned from David. Before him, I didn’t know how to love and was too afraid to succumb to the love of another. So there are many many pictures of the two of us together where I see a physical manifestation or realization of love and that is where I can find my spiritual place. In any situation I know what David would say or maybe think, so in some ways I almost feel like I am both of us - because he taught me so much about acceptance, joy, generosity and love, that I want to emulate him.

Senor de los Milagros (Lord of the Miracles) is an image of Jesus Christ that was painted by an African slave in Lima, Peru. The image survived an earthquake in the 18th century that leveled most of the city.

Each October a reproduction of the image is paraded through the streets of New Rochelle, NY.

The parade creates a force field of faith that washes over all that witness it.

Getting lost playing marimba.

I’m a thoroughly unrepentant atheist. I found this folk art Madonna in a tiny crumbling abandoned church off a dirt path way atop a mountain in Umbria. I shook off my growing irritation at all the other Baroque and Renaissance Madonnas I had seen in the huge gilded cathedrals in Rome and Assisi (So passive! So “oh, you want me to bear the son of god? OK.”). This lady looks passive, too, but her gaze is on the crumbling frescoes and fallen alter of this tiny church where farmers and shepherdesses used to trek up the path on Sundays and bring to her their prayers and joys and sorrows. I imagine behind those soulful eyes she’s thinking, “I’m still here. I miss you. I still love you.” I’m a thoroughly unrepentant atheist. I do not believe in God. Much less a God that would inflict such painful motherhood on this woman. But I believe in her, and the peasant artist who painted her. She’s my now and forever screensaver, so whenever I open my laptop, there she is, blessing me, loving me.

It’s drugs. It’s total escapism.

Animal rescue, protecting the animals

90 seconds. About the time it takes to steam this cup of milk with this very fancy coffee machine in our apt. It sits on what we (half) jokingly call the coffee Altar. At it I make lattes in the morning, trying NOT to multitask (for that way lies failure and messy dairy-laced disaster.) It’s best to focus only on steaming the milk. To stand still and hold the cup up to the wand as the temperature of the milk rises in response to the steam forcing its way in with hisses and whirs.  And listen to it. And do nothing else. And this is hard for me. I was raised Catholic, with religion wrapped around me less like a warm sweater and more like a strait jacket. I flailed against it wildly for a long time. Now in my 4^th decade, I find myself letting some sort of divinity in again- just a little sip at a time; a small bite at a time; these 90 seconds at a time. I quiet my mind, reflect on the morning, on the blessings of a home that belongs to an “our.” On the luxury and liberty of fancy coffee to worship.  I let faith in, just until the metal handle is hot.

Anonymous church. Girl. Mom. Running shoes. Palm trees. 80 degrees. Sun. Birds. Honeysuckle. Peace.

Stories and story telling has always been comforting to me. Whether it be through music, books, or tv being able to place myself in a different life provides me with a sense of peace because when you’re casting spells with Harry Potter, sword fighting with Percy Jackson, singing with Steven Universe, and observing the world with Walt Whitman, life doesn’t seem as bad.

Water. The river actually.

My yoga mat

Some people think a golf course is totally bourgeois, and a waste of green space -- and Trump has done his best to make it again a hated sport. But the golf course in one place that I have to concentrate but also let go. I have to trust my body to remember intricate movements that will change the direction for hundreds of yards. Because I often walk the course, I feel alive there in a way I do not in any other place in life. I feel the heat, the air, the wind and if I walk, I feel tired, which is a good feeling. Often as a woman, I am literally and figurative alone on a vast field. I guess that doesn't really explain why it's sacred to me -- in my "regular" life, I am a responsible lawyer and I am a responsible mother and daughter and sister. I help my church and do my best by my community. So this is one place where I am truly alone, where I am asked only to try my best, and there will be forgiveness.

My cats always show me love, and whenever I’m feeling upset, they sense that and come over to cheer me up.

There’s a very special retreat center a few hours outside NYC. I get there every chance I can, and while there are much more scenic locations on the property, discovering this abandoned phone booth while hiking in the woods, invited me to make up all sorts of stories. The woods are a hands down favorite holy space, but the surprise of the phone booth speaks to me of the God who is full of surprises. 

This is my favorite place because me and my family have spent a lot of time there together and have talked together there. Also because I play games with family on The Red Chair.

Above all, love gives us an audience. An audience to perfect our show for, the show of our life. This is precisely what every god gives us, as well. A witness to all we are and all we do, to better ourselves before. This photo is of my wife. Never is the instinct to be better louder than when I look at her. "En ella, reside mi diosa." She is every confirmation I might ever need of this world's divinity and its generosities.

My love for music blossomed and gave me the most beautiful memories, the ones I hold closest to my heart. Music saved me and ended all of my pain. It is my heaven and my eternal love.

The Rose is a thing of beauty.
This rose was handed to me from a table in a restaurant. And, when I get a gift of one, it is a sign that God is real.

When those of us who crave the light and the life are seeing and feeling this darkness - this evil - it breaks our spirit; it makes us incredibly sad and feel hopeless. I could go on with all the injustices and incredibly scary polices that aggravate me, but it only puts me in a darker place where I don't want to go. I choose to pray for enlightenment for those who govern, to enjoy my garden and my family, and to savor the peace that I get when I take a walk in my woods and can shut out (for a little while, at least) all that darkness that our new government brings. I'm going out to walk in the rain and enjoy the birdsong and the smell of the forest floor as I walk with my dogs...

This is what I love. Nature connects me to my higher power.

It feels holy to me when I’m gathered around a big table with yummy food, people I love, and people who love me back. 

Writing helps me memorialize moments of joy, and decompress from burdens weighing me down.  When I run, my spirit is invigorated and my brain refreshed as I propel myself forward one step at a time.  When I re-read things I've written --weeks, months or years later-- I realize how far my steps have carried me. 

Cherry trees, near Conservatory Water in Central Park. The trees in Central Park serve as my anonymous church.

When I look at the blue sky and clouds I feel at peace

Shrine

The perfect balance when scuba diving. This is me by a coral reef.

God, the Creator of this majestic universe, cares about even me! Totally overwhelming!

Running. When I can get past the physical discomfort, I can connect with my higher power. It’s the perfect moving meditation. 

Paradise. The Pacific Ocean at Half Moon Bay, California.

Daisy

I love to cook, especially for people who appreciate it. A dear friend gave me money to get a birthday gift, and I splurged on this spoon I never would have bought for myself. It reminds me, every time I use it, to stir some love into the pot. 

Theater. The language, the words wash my cells clean.

The beauty of Central Park's Sheep's Meadow.

Sycamore tree

Creativity, especially crocheting. The repetitive motion and the feel of the fiber soothes my anxious mind and gives me something to focus on so I can hear other people and my higher power better.