Inspired by traditional end-of-year letters from others, never having written one myself, I’m motivated to try now. Yes, a little late. But with a twist: save for last (if ever) what tends to come first in most letters—family and travels, possibly health but usually not—and begin with what’s for me juiciest. My letter will be heavy on graphics, befitting a visual person. With very few posed smiling faces, if any. So here comes the concluding segment of my letter, possibly the last end-of-year letter I’ll ever write. (I’ve already written about my various photographic projects, in four parts, starting here.)
JOURNEYS
I understand that any good end-of-year message will include travels, health and family. So first my trips in 2022.
In February 2022 I made a week-long retreat to the prayerful Agape Community in central Massachusetts and to the sacred waters of Quabbin Reservoir within 3 miles of Agape. I journaled, joined the prayer life of Agape, visited the Quabbin forest and as often as I could Quabbin Reservoir itself.
I have a long evolving relationship with both, serving on the Agape steering committee (known as the Mission Council) for many years, and producing a photographic exhibit about Quabbin in the mid 1980s.
At our last annual St Francis Day in October, honoring the saint (one of my favorites) and commemorating Agape’s 40th anniversary, we celebrated our large community by telling stories. We ended with a procession to trees planted to commemorate lives of members of the far-flung community, including our Native American relatives.
More photos from Agape and Quabbin and St Francis Day
For five days in early August 2022, I attended the yearly gathering of nearly 400 New England Quakers on the campus of Castleton College in northwestern Vermont. It’s called the New England Yearly Meeting Sessions of the Religious Society of Friends. Another 150 Friends (alternate name for Quakers) joined via Zoom. This was the first time since the Covid-19 pandemic began in early 2020 that we’d met hybrid rather than solely online. I call us The Quaker Pioneers, willing to risk infection for the glory of being together in one physical space. (As far as I know there were no infections.)
I reveled in the community, celebrated ties that bind over many years, severed by Covid-19, stitched together by shared love of each other and these gatherings, and a deep desire to be together in one large space. With my compadres struggling for justice for Palestine, we mounted exhibits (including my Nakba photographic series), hosted an informal lunch talk with Palestine-Israel activists, and displayed an alternative history of Palestine by an enlightened Jewish group, Promised Land, the Jewish Museum of the Palestinian Experience.
A highlight was a daily informal shared breakfast with a small group under a large tent outside the dining hall. We call ourselves The Breakfast Club. We renewed friendships, caught up on personal news, discussed the proceedings of what we call Meetings for Business, and made new friends. This reminded me of what I understand to be one of the important features of the Native American Sun Dance and other yearly gatherings of Native People, occurring to this day. It brings together subgroups of the larger community (or tribe or people) who’d been dispersed during most of the year.
More photos from New England Yearly Meeting Sessions, part one and part two
For nearly one month at the end of summer I visited my sister Elaine and brother-in-law Bob in Juneau Alaska. Foolishly refusing to wear a mask during the 12-hour flight from Boston to Juneau, I contracted Covid and upset all our plans. However, I discovered new dimensions of compassion and acts of kindness from Elaine and Bob as they isolated me in Bob’s spacious office with a view; they attended to all my needs. Every day Elaine and I regularly ate—distanced, she caught Covid from me—with numerous opportunities to share our lives, current and as children. Daily, she and I walked, sometimes joined by Bob and their friends.
We were to have traveled by ferry and car to their second home in Atlin BC; Covid-19 interrupted that. I’d planned to give my slideshow, “The Ongoing and Relentless Nakba”, in a small theater in Atlin. Instead, we presented it in the hybrid mode so folks in the theater and online could view it. This was a new direction for me (I will present it again at a hybrid conference of the Friends Association for Higher Education. (June 13, Tuesday, 11:45 AM-12:30 PM. Information here.)
More photos from Alaska, part one and part two
HEALTH
Early last year, around February 2022 I experienced growing problems with sleep. My insomnia had gone thru various stages since about 10 years ago; now it was chronic. I’ve blogged about my explorations in the sinister and possibly debilitating dungeons of chronic insomnia, maybe making tentative progress, unsure how it affects my general health, especially my neurocircuitry. I’ve worked with a splendid team of professionals including a spiritual counselor, clinical social worker specializing in insomnia, psychiatrist, medical doctor, and others. Consulting with friends and family has been especially useful. As is well known, the frequency of insomnia seems to be increasing. Perhaps existential dread is a factor. For me, dread stems from the climate crisis and the dastardly situation in the so-called Promised Land of Palestine-Israel, especially now with the current extreme right-wing Israeli government. The threat of nuclear war and the ongoing destruction of lives and earth in Ukraine and Russia are other factors in my dread.
A little about my chronic insomnia.
Who wouldn’t worry? And lose sleep? When asked about my insomnia I often answer, I’m managing. Which means I’m usually not terrified by my pesky little problem.
Secondly, discovered in October 2022, I have atrial fibrillation (A-fib), meaning a tendency to arrhythmia and rapid heart rate. I take prescribed medicines and find “organ recitals” with other Aged Ones sometimes helpful, but also a pit that can swallow conversations. Both maladies affect how well I might engage in complicated international travel, characteristic of most of my journeys to Palestine-Israel. Whether I’ll be able to ever resume such arduous travel remains a mystery to me.
FAMILY, CORE COMMUNITIES AND TEACHINGS
One way—often the primary way—I deal with my maladies and challenges is thru my core communities. Family first and most important—two daughters in their mid-50s, three grandchildren in their teens, former wife and her spouse, sister and brother-in-law, and my former partner (which I include in my family). They help sustain me and I pray I do similarly for them. Second, Quakers and political and photographic groups—people, practices, teachings, and traditions. Add my community of friends, many friendships existing for decades, some more recent.
And finally what some call The Cloud of Witnesses, spiritual ancestors and teachers like Martin Luther King Jr., Buddha, and Jesus, their examples and teachings. I and we are not alone.
This concludes my five-part series, my end-of-year letter, a little late but just in time, halfway into 2023. If you’re arriving late to this letter series you can start here.
Skip Schiel & Teeksa Photography 