Tonight was the last in the series of the three introductory classes known as Unitarian 101. The featured event was a potluck.

Yesterday, I had cooked up a big pot of organic vegan chili for the event. (Even though Unitarians as a whole have no specific dietary code, there are some members who are vegetarian, and I felt like adhering to the Food Not Bombs gold standard because I wanted to!)

When I cooked it, after I had dumped in the cayenne and tasted it, I realized I had probably put in a little too much. I liked it, but I was attempting to create something that would appeal to mainstream tastebuds.

My fears about having overdone it were somewhat allayed when Yanthor and Anya tried it last night and both said it was "really good." But then I noticed they were sniffling and blowing their noses afterward. Oh well. So be it.

After my Open Harvest shift today, I returned to the Mideast Base to retrieve the pot of chili.

(Notable events during volunteering:

(1) A sign posted on the door about the Sneak Attack in Congress on Organic labeling standards, urging everyone to contact their senators immediately. If this thing passes, the word "organic" will be made virtually meaningless, and turned into yet another substance-free marketing buzzword.

(2) I found out why it's so damn hard to find anything that hasn't been pasteurized. In Nebraska, it's against state law for retail outlets to sell milk that hasn't been pasteurized. [insert "what a backward country we live in" rant] While there's no explicit law against selling unpasteurized juice, the the closest thing they carry is cider that's been hit with UV-rays, for fear of lawsuit-happy customers. One of the people 'in the know' advised me to "go directly to farms and buy it from them" as my only alternative to find what I'm looking for. Crazy.

I went ahead and tried the cider, as it was priced quite reasonably. I don't know how well it will ferment, but it tasted damn good cold out of the bottle. Knowing me, I'll probably have it all consumed before anything exciting happens. That's ok though. Given that I'll be out of town next week anyway, this probably isn't the best time to embark on such experiments. I may just wait and try it another time later.

Getting back to the main topic...)

I realized the chili kettle was not going to fit into my backpack, so I opted to double-bag it and hang it over the handlebars. This solution worked well enough for the not-too-long trip to the church, but I wouldn't have wanted to go on an extended mission like that.

This week's potluck was much better attended than last week's, probably owing to the fact that it was the main part of the class, rather than a preliminary option. There were many tasty dishes to consume while talking with fellow Unitarian newbies.

Also of note was that this time, I was not the only person who biked in. A middle-aged mom who's gotten into the habit of riding her bike to work as a way to save on gas money had also parked her two-wheeled vehicle at the church's bike rack. (Kudos to the church for having a bike rack.)

During dinner, one person at the table where I was sitting (someone I had gotten to know a little bit last week when she said, "Was that you I saw riding a bike down 27th street earlier today?") told stories about her hippie sister's adventures in squatting with a group of anti-establishment wackos on national park land for many months on end.

Most of the people at the table were like, "That's a fascinating story, but your sister sounds like a really strange person."

But I was like, "Wow, that's cool! Go sister!"

After eating, we went on a tour of the building. There were various meeting rooms, a little library room, children's rooms, a really nice outdoor courtyard area, but the resonated most with me was the meditation room.

The instant I walked in, I felt a shiver throughout my body. It's a small room in the corner of the church, dimly lit with natural light from several small windows. Meditation cushions were stacked in the corner. Against one wall, an altar was positioned so high above eye level that it almost reached the ceiling, featuring a Buddha statue, several plants, and a few other figures I couldn't identify.

"This room is used for Buddhist meditation, sometimes they have classes here, and the Neopagans also use it sometimes for their meditation rituals." The tour guide described its uses.

But I was transfixed. I couldn't stop looking up at the altar. The intensity of spirit I felt resonating within the place was almost overwhelming, but at the same time, very calming. I felt as if I could just stand (or sit) there and be with reality. A spiritual safe zone.

Not even the Boulder Shambhala Center shrine room, which is large and very elaborately decorated in Tibetan style, has ever had this degree of effect on me. No, this room was much simpler and far more sparse. But there was power there. For me.

(Ok, so now that I'm thinking about it, there is one other place where I've been whose effect was somewhat comparable on a spiritual level, though with an entirely different type of resonance. That place was known as the Circle A Ranch, formerly located in Louisville, CO. Whenever I journied there, I felt a sense of overwhelming peace and oneness; it made me long for the way our whole world might be in a better era. Whenever I was there, I could feel secure in a way that not even home did, wherever "home" is.)

After the tour, everyone from the class assembled in a large circle at "The Gathering Place", where the church minister was available to answer people's questions. He passed out a sheet containing a list of Frequently Asked Questions, and suggested that he could probably spend a great deal of time talking about any of them, so he suggested that people to pick ones they felt most interested in for him to focus on, or come up with questions of their own.

The more I hear that man talk, the more I like him. I take this as a good sign. Regardless of faith, I think if one is going to attend a church that has a minister, it would be important to have one who is able to speak clearly and articulately, as well as possessing admirable personal and spiritual qualities.

One question that stuck in my mind came from a person who identified herself as Christian, and she asked how a Christian could get along in a church where there appeared to be so many people who expressed negative feelings about their own Christian backgrounds. Does the church truly welcome those who maintain Christian beliefs, or is it more of a place for people who have been burned by Christianity and want to seek refuge from it?

The pastor answered by saying that by its very nature, only a "certain type of Christian" would be comfortable in the Unitarian church. This type of Christian would be one who does not require that everybody agree with him/her, or hold the same beliefs. This type of Christian would be okay about congregating with those of other persuasions on the quest for truth.

He pointed out that while the Unitarian ideal is to be accepting of all faiths, people, by virtue of being human, are imperfect. Those who have had bad experiences with Christianity are going to tend to vent about their past, and it would be helpful for them to remember that Unitarianism has its roots in Christianity. Even if Christianity doesn't resonate with them at all, respect that others find meaning in it.

Ok, so that's a terribly imprecise summary of what he said. But I don't think it's too far off.

He also talked a bit about his spiritual history, how he came upon the Unitarian faith and decided it was for him.

...

Where I'm at now: I'm going to hold any further action until after the Megafest next week. But when I return, I have a high degree of interest in attending one or more of the Open Circles. These are meetings in which small groups of Unitarians get together (usually at one of the people's houses) to discuss their spiritual journies, and what's going on in their lives in general.

Here's why I want to do this, despite a few earlier misgivings (which I wrote about previously): As I continue to develop a spiritual framework for myself, I want to be challenged. I want to find a group of people in which I can feel safe talking about whatever it is that's baking my noodle, while at the same time accepting the likely possibility that I'll be on an entirely different page than they are.

This comes from the realization that growth often happens when one is not surrounded by those who agree with you on everything. Though there is a certain elation to be found in getting together with those who are able to clearly articulate ideas similar to thoughts vaguely swirling around in the back of my own head, I would be foolish to discount the benefit of sharing my ideas as best I can with those of different persuasions, journies, or walks of life. (Now if I try doing it, and find myself constantly being cut down, that will be another issue. But somehow, I get the feeling that Unitarians would be among the least likely to dismiss anyone's journey, even if it's fringe and wierd.)

I'm taking what the pastor said regarding Christians, and applying it to my own mishmash of philosophical notions. The Unitarian way: I can take my journey, others can take theirs, and we can enjoy each other's company on the way, even if we're ultimately headed to different destinations. That's how I'm seeing it right now.

I guess tonight's potluck, building tour, and talk really ratcheted up my sense of affinity with the local Unitarian crowd. I take this as a positive sign.

I also want to visit that meditation room again. All in good time. All in good time.

...

P.S. After it was over, as everyone was getting ready to leave, someone came into the kitchen and asked, "Who made that spicy bean dish thing in the big kettle?"

I confessed that the chili was mine.

She said, "That was really good."

"Well, thank you. I'm glad you enjoyed it." (I really was glad somebody had eaten and enjoyed it. Most of the people I saw in my vicinity while eating didn't even have any on their plate, but this could easily be attributed to the fact that there were so many different dishes to choose from that nobody was going to be able to fit everything on their plate.)

"I don't suppose you brought the recipe with you?"

Oh boy, here we go. "Um, there is no recipe. I just throw a bunch of stuff into the kettle without measuring any of it."

"Well it was really good."

"Thanks."

I was glad to know my crazy haphazard chili found its niche.

(Sidenote: She was really attractive too. Wasn't in the Unitarian 101 class. In fact, I had never seen her before. Wasn't wearing a nametag either. How very mysterious.)