Year: 2019 (Page 12 of 20)

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Two bedrooms, one double bed, one queen bed, with one private bath for the two rooms. Both located on 2^nd floor, so a flight of stairs.

Good parking with room for a camper.

Wi-Fi and TV in room.

Have 2 cats, so allergy alert.

Provides a continental breakfast.

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by Melissa Monforti
Interim Music Lead

Random person: So what do you do?
Music Director: I’m a music director at a church.
Random person: Oh. You’re one of those people who tries to make me FEEL things.

One of my mentors reiterated this conversation to me early in my discernment about music ministry. On certain levels, it’s true. Music does help us feel our feelings. And music in worship is especially prone to tapping into the emotional work that is necessary when we live in covenant.

In our music traditions as UUs, singing together is core to our experience of community. It is literally one of the ways we live out our covenant. Our songs encapsulate our values, our philosophy, our theology, our principles. Singing our songs together is truly a blessing. It is one of the ways we collectively embody the spirit of this church.

The music program at Foothills is at its heart a creative ministry. Music falls into one of the areas of life that is inherently creative. When someone makes music, silence becomes sound. Something that did not at first exist, is created and fills the space. Music is by nature a creative act.

Perhaps less obvious: music is never a solitary creative act. Music must be and always is a result of INTERaction and is therefore a communal act.

But what about the painfully beautiful violin solo? What about the solitary midnight guitar jam in the garage? Yes, even these are not lonely moments but interactions, and here’s why.

Music is movement. Music is created by air moving, sound waves, vibrations. There can be no music without something moving through space, and if there is movement, something eventually receives the movement. There is a physical point where the sound wave is created and a point where it is received. Every vibration is an interaction of string, wood, metal, animal skin, reed, and of course the ears of those who hear the music.

I would also argue that the best music is designed to be created in community. Think of your favorite band playing Red Rocks. Think of an orchestra playing Mozart.

Think of our beloved Foothills choir — voices of many, blending and harmonizing to create something no one voice can produce alone. Think of our newly established Worship Band — each instrument and each voice coming together to fill the space with sound.

Think also of yourself — raising your voice, no matter how musical you may think you are. Your voice becomes part of the creation of music in all our worship experiences together. That vibration you make, be it tiny or vibrant, is sound in motion, and therefore you are a creative music maker too.

All that musical interaction touches us without our even trying. Yes, music makes us feel things, and because we embrace music at church, then I guess it is the job of the music director to help that process along.

In my year of service at Foothills, I have noticed some pretty great things about this amazing church. Before joining you, I had been an integral part of the music programs at two other UU churches, been a guest at several others, and offered time and talent to our larger UU movement as a songwriter and performer at the national UU musicians’ conferences and at the General Assembly of all UU churches.

In all that exposure, I can say with certainty that Foothills is a special place. As my time here comes to a close, let me share with you these reflections.

1. Foothills is a singing congregation. People, you SING! The sanctuary can hardly contain it! What a gift to know that no matter how you feel on any particular Sunday, you will be surrounded by song.
   
2. Foothills is a willing congregation. Willing to try new songs, willing to sing in rounds, willing to experiment musically.
   
3. Foothills is an open congregation. You openly embraced my style of music leadership. You have been open to various genres of music, from traditional to contemporary. You open your hearts when the music moves you to tears.
   
4. Foothills has solid change management skills. The music program has been through so much change, and here comes another change. With my year of service coming to a close, we welcome Christopher Watkins Lamb to his new position. What I observe is a community that cares about and trusts each other to get through changes with integrity and grace.

As a person whose job it is to “make you feel things,” you make the job easy!

Going forward, the music program will take the appropriate amount of time to adjust to Christopher’s leadership style, giving him time to learn the ropes.

After that, who knows? There have been all kinds of suggestions from starting a regular children’s choir to establishing a rock choir to offering bedside music for those in hospice to developing more trio-type groups to drum circles to hymn sing-alongs.

Whatever you decide, Foothills, you’ll certainly do it with grand style. And whatever mark I have made on the print of Foothills’ history, I hope it has furthered the goal of music ministry to help us all feel our feelings, to sing out proudly our shared values, and to live fully in covenant.

From March 24 through April 28, our Share the Plate recipient was Sanctuary Everywhere. This is a new program we are incubating in response to the growing number of asylum seekers detained in Colorado, and in partnership with La Cocina, a community mental health organization serving the immigrant community in Northern Colorado.

Share the Plate donations were $6,347.78, which, in addition to generous outside donations, brings the total to over $10,000 given to this new ministry.

Foothills member Cindy Conlin gave the following testimonial during worship on March 24 to kick off this Share the Plate series:

Last October, I started visiting a woman from Honduras in the Aurora Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) detention center once a week. She’d turned herself in to request asylum, because she’s not safe in her home country.

After giving the guard my ID, I’d be taken back to the visitation room, where, locked in for an hour, I sat on a hard metal stool and talked on a phone, through the glass, with my friend.

I went to accompany my compañera, Spanish for companion — “compa” for short — to provide emotional support, and to reaffirm her humanity in a dehumanizing system.

She was often cold and bored, so I sent bilingual books; but they never made it in. We could cut books and mail them in 3 pages at a time, or she could buy items at inflated prices from the commissary at the for-profit detention center.

We mailed in money orders, so she could call her family, buy toothpaste, deodorant, a long-sleeved shirt, and sufficient food. It costs about $5 a day to eat adequately there.

Over time, I learned that if my compa could find a US citizen willing to give her housing, food, and transportation to court and ICE appointments, she could be paroled to live with them while her case was processed. My Foothills friend Anne Haro Sipes agreed to do this, and joined me on visits.
About a month ago, my compa was released and is now living with Anne. Foothills has formed a 6-person village to support her, until she gets her work permit, wins her asylum case, and qualifies for support from other organizations on her journey to a productive life here in the United States. So far we have purchased clothes, a cell phone, toiletries for her. My dentist gave her a free initial exam and a long list of work to be done. Next week she’ll visit the doctor. She enrolled in English classes and started therapy at La Cocina.

Our hope is for Foothills to identify five additional compas, and to surround each with a support village — in a model we believe could be used across the country. With our partner organization, La Cocina, we are creating volunteer training and will soon invite others to consider joining a similar village. I’ll be in the social hall between the services if you want to learn more.

This has been among the most meaningful work of my life — challenging and personally transformative, as I learn to hold space for folks in difficult circumstances, and how to be helpful — as I experience both powerlessness and privilege in the system, and as I reflect upon my approach and assumptions so I can dismantle, rather than replicate, white supremacy culture.

This month, we ask you to join us in this incredible journey, as we share the plate with this new initiative we call Sanctuary Everywhere. These funds will support compas with some of their expenses, as well the critical clinical support from someone with culturally sensitive trauma expertise.

Everything you place in the basket, or donate through text will be shared equally with this new powerful program of help, and of human connection. Please be generous so that we can keep passing the blessing on.

by Hannah Mahoney,
Foothills Member and Belly Dancing Instructor
Testimonial Given During Worship 6.9.19

My relationship with my body opened up when we were about 15. 

Something clicked for me inside, and I realized for the first time that I had a body that was my very own, that I was in charge of my body, and that this body would be my dwelling place on Earth until death.  I remember the day that this idea came over me, and I remember my young heart being filled with such a tender gratitude for my body, made especially for me.  The feeling was so powerful that I promised myself I would keep it in my heart no matter what. I decided to love my body, unconditionally, forever. 

This time in life can be very difficult for young people, changing bodies and extreme emotions, pressure and anxiety and uncertainty. My best girlfriends all struggled with eating disorders, and it broke my heart not to be able to help them see their own beauty and worthiness. I clung fiercely to my promise, my gratitude and grace for my body, and my sense of empowerment grew.  At the age of 15, the universe tapped me on the shoulder. I opened the phone book and found a belly dance teacher. Even then, Fort Collins had a vibrant belly dance community.  Many classes and teachers were available, and there were lots of opportunities to perform and to see others perform.  For the first time, I saw people of all shapes and sizes and ages expressing themselves with their bodies in a fascinating language, expressing their hearts through movements that seemed both ancient and fresh to me.  I knew I had found my people. 

A whole new world opened up for me during those first months of class.  I discovered more muscles than I knew I had, and learned to move my body in ways that I didn’t even know were possible. When things came easily to me, I caught fire! And when things were very difficult I rose to the occasion, practicing, watching the masters, paying attention to my own body and feeling my way. I learned to listen to my body on another level. 

I kept belly dancing, and at 18 I began teaching. Sharing the experience of belly dance with others is one of the greatest joys of my life. Getting to witness people as they begin to see their bodies and recognize their power and beauty in a new way is an incredible gift. 

This summer I’m 35, belly dancing for 20 years, and I feel like I’m just getting started. Learning the language of belly dance has required a lot of patience and practice, slowly working with my body to isolate and articulate and undulate and reverberate. As my body and I become more fluent, movements and patterns and shapes become known to my body, I don’t have to think about them in the same way–my body knows what to do–muscle memory. I can free my mind to trace the edges and refine and experiment as my body moves. And then like any language, when you reach a certain level of fluency, you can begin to flow, to transcend.

My body has taught me that together, we can reach these moments of transcendence. Putting in the practice together, listening to my body and giving it what it needs to get stronger and feel better, giving myself some grace and never slamming or forcing. 

As a young person, I remember being exposed to many dramatic and appealing and kind of self-destructive dance moves, and I have certainly injured myself when I’ve sold out for drama. As I grow I am always climbing and pushing, but I don’t betray myself in pursuit of a certain look or shape. I work with what I have and search for the next level of what might be possible. There’s always another layer to discover. 

Belly dance has connected me to my body in a deeper way. When we dance, we are one. My thoughts float away, I’m fully embodied, and I feel like we are connected with everybody who has come before and everybody who is here right now, and everybody who has not yet been born. We can transcend time and space and feel the depth and grace of our humanity, send a message of love to our brothers and sisters, and know that we have answered the call. 

To dance is to be alive. To be alive is to be embodied. To be embodied is to embrace yourself and let your heart shine out.

Your body is welcome here, all of it.
Yes, even that part. And that part. And yes, even that part.
The parts you love, and the parts you don’t.
For in this place we come with all that we are
All that we have been,
And all that we are going to be.

It is from our bodies after all that all life flows and is experienced.
Our highest moments of connective pleasure and lowest valleys of pain – and every moment in between – play out on and within – a body. Your body. Your children’s bodies, your co-workers’ bodies, your parents bodies – all bodies, everywhere. 

Bodies are the place where the political becomes personal, becomes fleshy. Where toxic norms of good bodies and bad bodies, shameful bodies and ideal bodies, worthy bodies and dangerous bodies, ‘normal’ bodies and disabled bodies; collide with our lives. 

For many of us, our relationship with our bodies is unhealthy; having absorbed distorted messages of shame and unworthiness, having been a victim to violence and fear mongering because of the gift of our bodies. 

During this series take the challenge offered to us by black activist & author of This Body Is Not An Apology, Sonya Renee Taylor, to make peace with our bodies, to practice radical self-love for our bodies. 

But this is not just for us, Taylor contends that as we practice this radical self-love it opens up the possibility of being in true, deep, and just relationships with other bodies. l. As Taylor writes “Radical self-love demands that we see ourselves and others in the fullness of our complexities and intersections and that we work to create space for those intersections.” 

Bodies as sources of wisdom, agency and power. 
Bodies worthy at every age, every ability, every health status. 
Bodies as place of transformation — personal and political. 

Sunday Services

Go Deeper – Resources for further reflection on the theme

1.  Krista Tippett on Being Grounded in Your Body 2. Body Scan Meditation and science as to why it works 3.  My Grandmother’s Hands: Racialized Trauma and the Pathway to Mending Our Hearts and Bodies by Resmaa Menakem 4.  TED Talk: Why We Need Gender Neutral Bathrooms: 5. On Desire: Why We Want What We Want by William Irvine 6. “There seems to be this sense where disabled people are kind of seen as oddities and forced to go through this world to be singled out and othered,” says Imani Barbarin. “There’s really no common sense attached when able-bodied people approach disabled people.”  Read more 7. Disability Visibility Project: https://disabilityvisibilityproject.com/about/