The surprise is the ferocity men in power show when nobodies threaten their power and control.

This matter (Zen) is like a great mass of fire: when you approach it your face is sure to be scorched. It is again like a sword about to be drawn; when it is once out of the scabbard, someone is sure to lose his life. The precious vajra sword is right here and its purpose is to cut off the head.
- Tai-hui (1089-1163)

There is now no doubt that the powerful and ferocious are failing to keep the earth under their feet.

Some again keep watch for the Christ. Will he come again into the narrative world of liturgical repetition? Can the theatre of creche and Christmas lore lure us into a soporific hope in the afterlife rewards of faithful observance?

Or is the Earth about to come into its own unstoried phenomenology where what is appearing is doing so always for this moment only?

Christ is this moment taking place.

See it, or don't.

But no pretending or pretence substitutes.

Just itself is all there is.

Birth it, or resurrect it, but don't bullshit. There's no bullshit possible. Not any longer.

This moment is taking place.

It's never enough.

Unless you say it is.

Then it is.

Enough.

The True Wisdom.* 6 Yet we do speak a wisdom to those who are mature, but not a wisdom of this age, nor of the rulers of this age who are passing away. 7 Rather, we speak God’s wisdom,* mysterious, hidden, which God predetermined before the ages for our glory, 8 and which none of the rulers of this age* knew; for if they had known it, they would not have crucified the Lord of glory. 9 But as it is written:

“What eye has not seen, and ear has not heard,

and what has not entered the human heart,

what God has prepared for those who love him,”

this God has revealed to us through the Spirit.

10 For the Spirit scrutinizes everything, even the depths of God. 11 Among human beings, who knows what pertains to a person except the spirit of the person that is within? Similarly, no one knows what pertains to God except the Spirit of God. 12 We have not received the spirit of the world but the Spirit that is from God, so that we may understand the things freely given us by God. 13 And we speak about them not with words taught by human wisdom, but with words taught by the Spirit, describing spiritual realities in spiritual terms.* (1Cor2:6-10)

Breathe in.

There is no channeling.

Only this thought. This moment. This insight.

Is.

Enough.

We tell stories, act through narratives, remember times, laugh, feast, and fade off.

Thanksgiving.

On the bay, rowing alone, a nickel on red nun #4 for passage fee, then back to harbor solitude extended.

Thanksgiving.

If there was anything I wanted, I cannot recall what it might be.

Thanks.

Giving.

Silence of snow. Tarps on woodpiles. Dawn turns in eastern horizon. Eve of Thanksgiving.

Stillness.

Meditation Hall

Clear the land, thatch the rush for roof,
All around cherish the empty, the pure.
Mountain blossoms fall by a secluded door,
Within, one who has forgotten the world's schemings.
Concern with existence needs no possession,
Comprehending the void does not wait upon reason.
All things are of conditions born,
Profound is the silence in the midst of clamor.
A person's mind is very much the same;
A bird in flight, leaving no tracks behind.
- Liu Tsung-yuan (773-819)

What does it mean to be a monastic of no other?

Gospel, Luke 21:12-19
Jesus said: Men will seize you and persecute you; they will hand you over to the synagogues and to imprisonment, and bring you before kings and governors because of my name – and that will be your opportunity to bear witness. Keep this carefully in mind: you are not to prepare your defence, because I myself shall give you an eloquence and a wisdom that none of your opponents will be able to resist or contradict. You will be betrayed even by parents and brothers, relations and friends; and some of you will be put to death. You will be hated by all men on account of my name, but not a hair of your head will be lost. Your endurance will win you your lives.’

What is my life? If I am to win it, it seems important to know what it is.

Here is my life.

Now is my life.

What is here?

What is now?

This!

No defense. No loss. No gain. Just this as it is every single awareness every single time.

There is no other. There is one thing. We are this one thing.

How can we possible grasp what it means to be this one thing?

Snow continues to fall. Muted tires roll on Barnestown Road. Every slumbering awareness is slowing waking from sleep.

'Win,' from Sanskrit, vanas, means 'desire,' 'struggle,' -- at the same time embraces its extension -- 'desireless' 'effortless' so as to complete its surround.

We are the surround of being-here.

God-love being-here, as each and all is!

Pepper spray is the new language of the police.

JFK's assassination is in an off year at 48, thus is kept quietly.

The liturgical year is in limbo. Between Christ the King and 1st Advent.

Cecilia inspires masses written in her musical honor.

Clouds enter Bangor in advance of tomorrow's storm.

We walk 5.80km through City Forest, delighted at the find.

Afternoon reading (None) 1 Corinthians 12:24,25-26 ©
God has arranged the body and that there may not be disagreements inside the body, but that each part may be equally concerned for all the others. If one part is hurt, all parts are hurt with it. If one part is given special honour, all parts enjoy it.

Trees are bare; they've entered the bed of November.

Some look at us and wonder if there'll ever be a tipping number of those who see the embodying connectivity of divinity that ligatures our seeming decatenation.

Loving God, I think, means serving the whole body.

Each.

All.

Stacking wood. One stick on another. I have nothing else to do.

Dark and dim, the Bamboo Grove Monastery,
Faint and faraway, the sound of bells at dusk.
Your bamboo hat carrying home the evening sun,
Alone you return to the distant green hills.
- Tu Fu (712-770)

Green wood from Belfast. Some very seasoned from Southwick. One stick atop another. Back and forth. Back and forth.

There is no controlling life.

There is only temporary balance.

Each stick of wood another breath.

Trip someone up, you are, perhaps, a "satan." That's what the word means way back down deep -- someone or something that trips up, like a root branch on a worn trail. Something that inhibits or opposes moving through or moving on.

There is no better somewhere else, smarter, more effective we can control.

One instant is eternity;
When you see through this one instant,
You see through the one who sees.
- Wu-men (1183-1260)

There is only this path which is the path you are on, upon which, if travelled, would reveal to you everything needed.

Walk that path.

Don't let anyone tell you not to.

If you trip, catch balance again. If fall, rise again.

Trust, radically!