Thanks for sharing your dream, Margaret. The Order community has been the setting for so many of my dreams. Architecture and ritual are important parts of spiritual community on this plane. So are story telling, laughter and the tears many of us are shedding as we read on another's remembrances of Wayne. I'm grateful to everyone who is sharing on this string. Loved Gordon's questions and Sarah's poem. Wayne, Catherine Whitney and I served as the Emerging Generation staff with Alice Baumbach as our able prior in 5th City in 1972, two 30-somethings and two lively 20-something "kids". For the community Easter celebration Wayne and Catherine wrote a pageant and coached the children to act it out in the Great Hall, with all the saints as witness. At the end, JWM gave it high praise. As I recall, he said, "This is real art and served our community as art is supposed to do." We and all our children glowed at that, as you can imagine. The song for the last supper scene has sustained me for 42 years. We buried my mother's ashes in Floydada, Texas, on July 1, 2012, her 100th birthay. It was a Sunday, and our family shared the Lord's Supper at the graveside, during which I sang Wayne and Catherine's song, to the tune of "Blowing in the Wind." This is my body, I give unto you. It's broken, that's the way that life is real. And this is my blood that is spilled out for you. It's given, that's the way that life is real. Eat this bread and drink this cup, And you shall have eternal life. For brokenness is givenness, and givenness is good, And it's a joy to know the truth about your life. Wayne's whole life was a work of real art and served the world as art is supposed to do. Love and blessings, Jann McGuire In a message dated 1/27/2014 12:38:17 P.M. Pacific Standard Time, AISEAYEW@NETINS.NET writes: Dear Jo and all, This news comes as a great, painful, overwhelming shock. I am so saddened. I’m sure that we have all had those dreams that seem to last all night long, even though we awake, get up, go to the bathroom (most of us are old enough to understand that part) and go back to sleep only to be in the same dream again, with greater intensity and detail. Last night, it was about a death in our community. The event happened indoors and the body was moved outside, lovingly wrapped and gently held by different ones of us. There was a huge stage made of blocks of foam all wrapped (actually beautifully sewn) in blue velvet. A block would be pushed out, a face would appear and a story would be told. Someone in the circle in front of the stage would put the block back in place. Someone in the circle would tell a story. Sometimes as someone in the front circle would be telling a story many blocks would come out and the response represented in the story would be acted out. This only happened when the story needed a massive response of care or demand for justice. There were tears. There was laughter. It was obviously “us” because of recognizable persons in the circle (some of whom I haven’ t seen for years, some of whom are no longer with us on this plane) and because of the breadth of the geography represented in the stories. It was a gentle night (in the dream) and as morning approached, I woke up. I made some notes. There was a huge metal framework around the velvet squares which were actually rectangular in shape, that gave the outdoor stage great stability. As is the case in dreams, there is no explanation for the fact that the entire structure did not collapse when one or many squares came popping out. I did not want to rise. I got up a couple of times, got a cup of coffee, fed the cat, and then I went back to lie down because my Monday morning “schedule” is to go through my last week’s email. It seems rather obvious that a part of me wanted to avoid the news. Wayne always took me back to my roots, as did the combination of Wayne and Jo. Wayne and I participated in a weekend retreat with Slicker in 66. I showed up from Morningside and Wayne had arrived from Dakota Wesleyan. We joked about this connection in places as far removed as Nigeria. Wayne’s ability to recover the story value in events always amazed me. It hasn’t reached zero here yet today and last night the winds were in the 30 to 55 mile per hour range. The house shook most of the night, so there was comfort in the peacefulness of the dream world I entered. Now, I am reminded of the Buddhist traditional understanding that great winds appear with the passing of great teachers. It seems a bit self-centered to have bored you all with this weary tale, but it seemed important to me to remind us of how intimately we are connected. If you should have any doubts, Jo, about the sincerity of those who have mentioned that they are holding you and the boys in their thoughts and prayers, let them go. Care for yourselves and know that you are being held in a powerful circle of light and love and deep respect. We recognize a great life, greatly lived, with phenomenal impact on the whole of a huge personal particular circle and on behalf of thousands of persons who will never even know Wayne’s name that are spread across the planet. They are richer for his expenditure on their behalf and poorer for not having had the blessing of those of us who have known you both. With love and care, Margaret _______________________________________________ OE mailing list OE@lists.wedgeblade.net http://lists.wedgeblade.net/listinfo.cgi/oe-wedgeblade.net