salve; parasamgate; ¡Hola!

Monks chant for same reason full moon glows on frozen snow.

antiphonal

Vigils

Ant. Let us listen to the voice of God, let us enter into his rest.

Shabbos 

clear signals, look for them

A tall inmate in prison this morning said that freedom is exchanged for security.

Leads me to think that insecurity is a better chance for freedom.

Tonight an ex-inmate visits hermitage. He’s just completed his MFA Degree, will be married within the month, and is delivering a lecture at his former place of incarceration. He teaches poetry, works for justice, and advocates for inmates.

No security, only hope.

Those looking for security in the midst of radical change become easy pickings for those trying to benefit from the roaring troubles of this world. Those who believe that life should be predictable or that their security should be guaranteed wind up caught in the teeth of blind anger or debilitating fear. As an Irish poet once said, “ A false sense of security is the only kind there is.” 

(--THE BLOG, GO TOWARD THE ROAR, 08/19/2011 08:37 AM ET | UPDATED OCT 19, 2011, MICHAEL MEADE, D.H.L., FOUNDER, MOSAIC MULTICULTURAL FOUNDATION)
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/michael-meade-dhl/facing-your-fears_b_928300.html

We ended tonight’s conversation listening to William Stafford’s poem,

A Ritual to Read to Each Other
                                     BY WILLIAM E. STAFFORD 

If you don't know the kind of person I am
and I don't know the kind of person you are
a pattern that others made may prevail in the
           world
and following the wrong god home we may miss
           our star. 

For there is many a small betrayal in the mind,
a shrug that lets the fragile sequence break
sending with shouts the horrible errors of
          childhood
storming out to play through the broken dike. 

And as elephants parade holding each
          elephant's tail,
but if one wanders the circus won't find the
          park,
I call it cruel and maybe the root of all cruelty
to know what occurs but not recognize the fact. 

And so I appeal to a voice, to something
         shadowy,
a remote important region in all who talk:
though we could fool each other, we should
         consider—
lest the parade of our mutual life get lost in the
dark. 

For it is important that awake people be awake,
or a breaking line may discourage them back to
          sleep;
the signals we give — yes or no, or maybe —
should be clear: the darkness around us is deep.

(--William Stafford, “A Ritual to Read to Each Other” from The Way It Is: New and Selected Poems. 1998 by Graywolf Press.)

errant errand

In the dream I am living another chance as, it seems, administrator of large and diversified agency school for what now seems to me to be for a population needing to be somewhere for the time being.

My basketball rolls away. My bicycle has no battery nor gearshift. I sit at an executive desk in an office being asked if I'll be attending the festival with the several oral history, literary presentations. I look around room. It is large and I feel like a reincarnated wraith of self, oh no, about to repeat the death scene of Hamlet or Hemingway novel.

I try to find friend and kindly mentor -- for what -- to resign? To not take job? To turn right on Pennsylvania turnpike, turn left on Jersey turnpike, head northeast until the corner edge of US land, look at North Atlantic and, do what, wonder?

Yeah, wonder.

I suspect there's nothing else I'm qualified to do. Just non-controlled, seemingly unrelated, arisings of the moment fleetingly seen, suddenly felt and -- wondered about.

Perhaps this world belongs to the organized, the motivated, the skillful. I have no mailbox there. (In the dream I find messages and mail in top right cubby hole that had been squirreled there for a long time.)

Wander, wonder, you itinerant mendicant! Notice, feel, and move through. I don't know what this place is, what this dream is, but it is not a fixed place, not for you.

It is a broken place. And you are no fixer. You are the broken wandering off in a wooded path. You are retreating tide in narrow harbor off to join the swirling recollections of an evolving uncertainty.

Old age, shattered understanding, disconsolate ambition.

Orphan emptiness masquerading as clown vagabond replete with red nose and bowler hat by scratching fire hole making do with little or nothing.

But wonder.

And impertinence.

Word-impoverished.

Idiorhythmic fool on errant errand.

Home is with you

What?

(No use pretending some voice is calling out to me.)

What?

(There it isn't again.)

Who's there?

(It's a ritual, like liturgical movements, this trying to identify what isn't there.)

Et cum spiritu tuo.

echo

Ok

Someone we know is suffering. Nowhere she turns does she see a way through. What can be done?

The fragile circumference of unknowing.

Maybe, as the zen master says, only don't know. Go straight. See what emerges.

With attentive presence and loving awareness listening to the situation and acting with clear and empty engagement toward the wellbeing of the one in midst of the many.

The echo:

(As in -- it's all in the details.)
By misemphasizing 'as in' the world has been plagued by 'a sin.'
Learning how to pause and where to break is a delicate learning. 

(As in -- it's all in the details.)
By misemphasizing 'as in' the world has been plagued by 'a sin.'
Learning how to pause and where to break is a delicate learning.

details

Data

Experience

Thought 

Analysis

Imagination

Liberation

Sympathique

(As in -- it's all in the details.)

By misemphasizing 'as in' the world has been plagued by 'a sin.'

Learning how to pause and where to break is a delicate learning.

pan. en. theism/anthropos

Correspondingly, it might be said God is in everything and everything is in God.

After saying this, one might add, so what? 

I'll tell you what: if such a formulation is indicative of a reality worth our attention, we might find ourselves inside God, or God inside us.

And where this possibility exists, then chocolate donuts, diabetes, and cervical cancer are merely chocolate donuts, diabetes, and cervical cancer.

Have I made myself clear?

Hello?

Anyone?

(Scheiße!)

panécastique

Revisiting Ranciere and Jacotot.

[Joseph Jacotot’s] emancipatory or panecastic (French: panécastique “everything in each” from Greek πᾶν and ἕκαστον) method was not only adopted in several institutions in Belgium, but also met with some approval in France, England, Germany, and Russia. It was based on four principles:

1. all men have equal intelligence;
2. every man has received from God the faculty of being able to instruct himself;
3. we can teach what we don't know; 
4. everything is in everything.

Regarding the first principle, he maintained that it is only in the will to use their intelligence that men differ.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Joseph_Jacotot

Will.

To use.

Intelligence. 

bernie glassman resting, wife says, after stroke

a haiku dialogue:

...

“Other times 

he subsides into 

a tired silence,” (-EM)

...

at this time

revive out to

restful sound (-bh)

...

We listen, and watch, revered attention, for you both!

http://www.tricycle.com/blog/roshi-bernie-glassman-suffers-stroke

Om shanti

Seekers of God

Follow no path

For no will re-mind you

To yes here and there

(wfh)

With apologies and gratitude to 

e e cummings:

http://poems.writers-network.com/ee_cummings/seeker-of-truth.html