Susan coughs. She has bronchitis. Sam plays harmonica. Joanie does not, momentarily, talk about not moving to New Jersey. Myles takes wedge of bread to slather. Saskia wraps turkey burgers and puts into freezer. Priscilla doesn't get to see her artwork not yet hung over fireplace. She tells me she was given a snake potion by the local non-aleopathic doctor. (She worries about hissing.)
Mike leaves table-top book as donation. Dirk and wife leave out into sunny cold. I put Christmas circular letter from Connecticut aside after reading travelogue of forty years. Bernard stops in to say Fanny is feeling ok today. The green wet pine donated yesterday acts like homeland security to fire attempting to encroach from kindling.
Those who awaken never rest in one place.
Like swans, they rise and leave the lake.
On the air they rise and fly an invisible course.
They live on emptiness.
They have seen how to break free.
Who can follow them?
- Dhammapada
Follow them where? Who goes? And where's to go?
The Doc has arrived and sits while the artist sketches. She sketches his words to her. He is telling her about original wholeness, Christness, pure reality. He tells about a question that arises: What would it be like if I were separate? (It's only an imagination, it's not true. That, he says, is the beginning of the ego. The mind grows curious with the question, and grows a fascination with twoness, of separation.)
Each psalm in Liturgy of the Hours ends with doxology:Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit,
as it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be,
world without end.
"Amen" finishes the doxology. We say yes to wholeness, even when we feel fragmented. That's what faith is -- saying yes in the midst of myriads of no.
The Doc goes on: "The ego, in the immensity of the fear and guilt at imagining and attaching to separation, attempting to escape, projects the creation of the universe. You make the problem, then you project so that you don't have to own it. I project wars. The ego uses the body attempting to be whole again. It uses it for pleasure and attack. Only the heart and mind is interested in truth, in love. Not the ego. Ego creates sickness."
Gregorian chant sounds from the internet station from Spain.
The sun bounces off shrink-wrapped boats at Wayfarer across the harbour.
Time to get the trash to the transfer station.
Doc says we see the innocence of everyone. So, we forgive.
And...
go on.
Friday, January 06, 2006
Doug said the Dalai Lama's words on "attitude" stay with him after the course. He's got a lot of years to settle into. About 45 more in prison.
Will some understanding reveal itself to him?
Arise, shine out, for your light has come,
the glory of the Lord is rising on you,
though night still covers the earth
and darkness the peoples.
-- Isaiah 60:1
At shop tonight reading First Church of the Higher Elevations, by Peter Anderson, we speak afterward of the blackness between stars and the vast unreachable space within us. How we are breathing membranes between infinite expanses of inner and outer space.
How if the incarnation has any meaning for contemporary shrugs of religious indifference on one hand and zealous fundamentalist enthusiasm on the other it would have to be grounded on ordinary humanity and the sacred revelation manifesting itself within it and within its surroundings.
In short, our worst fear is being revealed -- namely, God has given us Itself. What shall we do with it?
Death and life are looked on
As but transformations;
The myriad creation is all of a kind,
There is a kinship through all.
- Huai Nan Tzu (2nd century B.C.)
The kinship is manifest.
We are kin. It is the twelfth day of Christmas. It is Epiphany. "It's me," God says, "do you recognize me?"
"Recognize you? Recognize you...?"
No, we don't. But give us time. It shouldn't take much longer. Have some tea while you wait. Here, sit by the fire. How has your day been? Some cake? I just have a few things to do. Can you stay a while?
(Are there really three wise men? Are there two? Is there one?)
Are we to understand you are not you any more?
Are we talking about what is...here...now?
Attitude: a) : a mental position with regard to a fact or state; b) : a feeling or emotion toward a fact or state.(Webster's)
Looking a little closer. Leaning in. Tilting head.
"Say, aren't you...?
(Waiting. Waiting.)
Yes, I am.
(Doug?)
Will some understanding reveal itself to him?
Arise, shine out, for your light has come,
the glory of the Lord is rising on you,
though night still covers the earth
and darkness the peoples.
-- Isaiah 60:1
At shop tonight reading First Church of the Higher Elevations, by Peter Anderson, we speak afterward of the blackness between stars and the vast unreachable space within us. How we are breathing membranes between infinite expanses of inner and outer space.
How if the incarnation has any meaning for contemporary shrugs of religious indifference on one hand and zealous fundamentalist enthusiasm on the other it would have to be grounded on ordinary humanity and the sacred revelation manifesting itself within it and within its surroundings.
In short, our worst fear is being revealed -- namely, God has given us Itself. What shall we do with it?
Death and life are looked on
As but transformations;
The myriad creation is all of a kind,
There is a kinship through all.
- Huai Nan Tzu (2nd century B.C.)
The kinship is manifest.
We are kin. It is the twelfth day of Christmas. It is Epiphany. "It's me," God says, "do you recognize me?"
"Recognize you? Recognize you...?"
No, we don't. But give us time. It shouldn't take much longer. Have some tea while you wait. Here, sit by the fire. How has your day been? Some cake? I just have a few things to do. Can you stay a while?
(Are there really three wise men? Are there two? Is there one?)
Are we to understand you are not you any more?
Are we talking about what is...here...now?
Attitude: a) : a mental position with regard to a fact or state; b) : a feeling or emotion toward a fact or state.(Webster's)
Looking a little closer. Leaning in. Tilting head.
"Say, aren't you...?
(Waiting. Waiting.)
Yes, I am.
(Doug?)
Thursday, January 05, 2006
What is the corrective in convergence?
Sorry times invite correctives of clear sight and aware action. When reason becomes corrupt, intuitive spirit must emerge innocence.
We grow frightened by official belief. The State, the Church, the Corporate Offices, the Dead Certain opinions of otherwise ordinary people -- the behavior of arrogant power frightens us.
It is true that power and wealth are sorry substitutes for authentic compassion and kindness. We dwell in sorry times.
The wholeness of life has, from of old,
Been made manifest in its parts;
Clarity has been made manifest in heaven,
Firmness in earth,
Purity in the spirit,
If rim and spoke and hub were not,
Where would be the chariot?
Who will prefer the jingle of jade pendants
If they once have heard the stone
Growing in a cliff?
- Lao Tzu
Midcoast Maine this morning begins mute gray-brown. Snow begins falling gently past kitchen window, sputtering like Make and Brake one lung engine in dawn harbour. Cat pleads to be sent out again to prowl his nation-yard. (To be rid of the melodrama, I open door to barn.) Of a sudden snow is full throttle. The brown hill gone white.
In one of the psalms one of us -- either with us or on our behalf -- said to him, I shall be filled when your glory appears. But he and the Father are one, and whoever sees him sees the Father also, so the Lord of hosts, he is the King of Glory. He will bring us back, he will show us his face and we shall be saved; we shall be filled, and he will be sufficient for us.
Until this comes to pass, until he gives us the sight of what will completely satisfy us, until we drink -- drink our fill of him, the fountain of life -- while we wander about, apart from him but strong in faith, while we hunger and thirst for justice, longing with a desire too deep for words for the beautiful vision of God, let us fervently and devotedly celebrate the anniversary of his birth in the form of a servant.
We cannot yet contemplate the fact that he was begotten by the Father before the dawn, so let us hold on to the fact that he was born of the Virgin in the night. We do not yet understand how his name endures before the sun, so let us acknowledge his tabernacle placed in the sun.
Since we do not, as yet, gaze upon the Only Son inseparably united with His Father, let us remember the Bridegroom coming out of his bride-chamber. Since we are not yet ready for the banquet of our Father, let us acknowledge the manger of our Lord Jesus Christ.
(from A sermon of St Augustine, Office of Readings, Thursday, 5Jan06, Eve of The Epiphany)
So many of us seem to be "wandering about, apart" yet "longing...for the beautiful vision of God." It is curious we have not fallen together into a common prayer for such unity vision. (It is not, as we once thought a vision of looking at God. It is, rather, the vision of looking as God.)
At Wednesday Evening Laura Soul-Friend Conversation at the bookshop, Paul smiled mischievously at the diversity of the ten of us gathered, saying: "It's terrific to sit in such a circle of diversity. This way, if even one of us is right there's a chance we'll all be pulled along to the truth; instead of the possibility that, being of one mind, belief, and creed, we just might all fall into ruin with falsity." (His wife, visiting her first time, glanced at him, keeping an eye on his delighted smile.)
Ragged Mountain is curtain of snow.
We are in profound need of what Augustine and psalmist plead: "bring us back, he will show us his face." Again, not to show us a face out and apart from our face -- rather, show us his face. It is our faces that are to be the face of God. This is not to suggest (for those of us troubled by the confusion of dualism and non-dualism) that some substitute for God is envisioned. What is envisioned is the emergence of God where the Christian mystery this season reveals God to be -- that God became human so that humans might become God.
460: The Word became flesh to make us "partakers of the divine nature":78 "For this is why the Word became man, and the Son of God became the Son of man: so that man, by entering into communion with the Word and thus receiving divine sonship, might become a son of God."79 "For the Son of God became man so that we might become God."80 "The only-begotten Son of God, wanting to make us sharers in his divinity, assumed our nature, so that he, made man, might make men gods."81
(80 St. Athanasius, De inc. 54, 3: PG 25, 192B)
(in Catechism of the Catholic Church, c.1992, PART ONE, THE PROFESSION OF FAITH, SECTION TWO, THE PROFESSION OF THE CHRISTIAN FAITH)
Of course these words are terrifying! Our fear is that misguided, unaware, and deluded men and women might try to grasp at and appropriate this notion of "becoming God" -- and ride roughshod with flailing egos over those they subordinate.
On the other hand, the above words of St Athanasius (295-273) invite a new "Pax Terra" (rather than a War on Terror) -- a peace that belongs to every being emerging from out itself to become itself. ("Pax Terra," is Latin for "Peace on Earth.") The word "terra" means earth, land, ground, soil; a country, land, region. It is time for authentic terra.
God's way is not the way of war. It is not the way of power and control. The way of God is kinder, more compassionate, and ultimately loving.
Cruelty, torture, deception, and greed are signs that the true and authentic God, profoundly longed for by every human heart and every being, is not emerging through us, but rather a perversion and distortion of our "idea" and "grab" of God has taken possession of our lives and culture.
It is terrifying to become what one is. It means we let go of everything we are not. God is the longing of God to emerge through this creation. There is no "intelligent design" out there pulling puppet strings, manipulating the material world to bring about a pre-ordained spiritual paradise once we muck through this horrible existence. We might rather think that we are the longing of God to fashion in our emerging way the kind of existence and world worthy to allow God's dwelling place under our roofs, under our feet. It has been given to us to work this out with diligence.
This prospect -- the humanity of God -- is frightening. It scuttles many of our theories about "God out there" judging and damning, praising and rewarding us. It asks us to grow up -- not fall back on mommy and daddy's praise or blame, and continue on with faithful hope that love alone reveals the reality of God in our midst.
Ours is a sorry time. It invites correctives of authentic compassion and kindness to heal the hurt and comfort the suffering. We cannot count on leaders whose idea of God is punish and protect. They will deceive and force their will on those weaker than them. We cannot, (God help us), depend on churches, mosques, temples, or any bastions of deficient ideas of what God is and what God wants. "God" is not our idea of God.
God is Itself -- emerging through love, longing to dwell in this world, with one and all, as one and all. The way we know God is God is when our actions are compassionate, loving, kind, and truthful
The fruits of God are God itself.
Without God we are not converging -- not in contemporary culture and world, not within ourselves.
God is the corrective in convergence.
Pray for corrective.
For Epiphany.
Sorry times invite correctives of clear sight and aware action. When reason becomes corrupt, intuitive spirit must emerge innocence.
We grow frightened by official belief. The State, the Church, the Corporate Offices, the Dead Certain opinions of otherwise ordinary people -- the behavior of arrogant power frightens us.
It is true that power and wealth are sorry substitutes for authentic compassion and kindness. We dwell in sorry times.
The wholeness of life has, from of old,
Been made manifest in its parts;
Clarity has been made manifest in heaven,
Firmness in earth,
Purity in the spirit,
If rim and spoke and hub were not,
Where would be the chariot?
Who will prefer the jingle of jade pendants
If they once have heard the stone
Growing in a cliff?
- Lao Tzu
Midcoast Maine this morning begins mute gray-brown. Snow begins falling gently past kitchen window, sputtering like Make and Brake one lung engine in dawn harbour. Cat pleads to be sent out again to prowl his nation-yard. (To be rid of the melodrama, I open door to barn.) Of a sudden snow is full throttle. The brown hill gone white.
In one of the psalms one of us -- either with us or on our behalf -- said to him, I shall be filled when your glory appears. But he and the Father are one, and whoever sees him sees the Father also, so the Lord of hosts, he is the King of Glory. He will bring us back, he will show us his face and we shall be saved; we shall be filled, and he will be sufficient for us.
Until this comes to pass, until he gives us the sight of what will completely satisfy us, until we drink -- drink our fill of him, the fountain of life -- while we wander about, apart from him but strong in faith, while we hunger and thirst for justice, longing with a desire too deep for words for the beautiful vision of God, let us fervently and devotedly celebrate the anniversary of his birth in the form of a servant.
We cannot yet contemplate the fact that he was begotten by the Father before the dawn, so let us hold on to the fact that he was born of the Virgin in the night. We do not yet understand how his name endures before the sun, so let us acknowledge his tabernacle placed in the sun.
Since we do not, as yet, gaze upon the Only Son inseparably united with His Father, let us remember the Bridegroom coming out of his bride-chamber. Since we are not yet ready for the banquet of our Father, let us acknowledge the manger of our Lord Jesus Christ.
(from A sermon of St Augustine, Office of Readings, Thursday, 5Jan06, Eve of The Epiphany)
So many of us seem to be "wandering about, apart" yet "longing...for the beautiful vision of God." It is curious we have not fallen together into a common prayer for such unity vision. (It is not, as we once thought a vision of looking at God. It is, rather, the vision of looking as God.)
At Wednesday Evening Laura Soul-Friend Conversation at the bookshop, Paul smiled mischievously at the diversity of the ten of us gathered, saying: "It's terrific to sit in such a circle of diversity. This way, if even one of us is right there's a chance we'll all be pulled along to the truth; instead of the possibility that, being of one mind, belief, and creed, we just might all fall into ruin with falsity." (His wife, visiting her first time, glanced at him, keeping an eye on his delighted smile.)
Ragged Mountain is curtain of snow.
We are in profound need of what Augustine and psalmist plead: "bring us back, he will show us his face." Again, not to show us a face out and apart from our face -- rather, show us his face. It is our faces that are to be the face of God. This is not to suggest (for those of us troubled by the confusion of dualism and non-dualism) that some substitute for God is envisioned. What is envisioned is the emergence of God where the Christian mystery this season reveals God to be -- that God became human so that humans might become God.
460: The Word became flesh to make us "partakers of the divine nature":78 "For this is why the Word became man, and the Son of God became the Son of man: so that man, by entering into communion with the Word and thus receiving divine sonship, might become a son of God."79 "For the Son of God became man so that we might become God."80 "The only-begotten Son of God, wanting to make us sharers in his divinity, assumed our nature, so that he, made man, might make men gods."81
(80 St. Athanasius, De inc. 54, 3: PG 25, 192B)
(in Catechism of the Catholic Church, c.1992, PART ONE, THE PROFESSION OF FAITH, SECTION TWO, THE PROFESSION OF THE CHRISTIAN FAITH)
Of course these words are terrifying! Our fear is that misguided, unaware, and deluded men and women might try to grasp at and appropriate this notion of "becoming God" -- and ride roughshod with flailing egos over those they subordinate.
On the other hand, the above words of St Athanasius (295-273) invite a new "Pax Terra" (rather than a War on Terror) -- a peace that belongs to every being emerging from out itself to become itself. ("Pax Terra," is Latin for "Peace on Earth.") The word "terra" means earth, land, ground, soil; a country, land, region. It is time for authentic terra.
God's way is not the way of war. It is not the way of power and control. The way of God is kinder, more compassionate, and ultimately loving.
Cruelty, torture, deception, and greed are signs that the true and authentic God, profoundly longed for by every human heart and every being, is not emerging through us, but rather a perversion and distortion of our "idea" and "grab" of God has taken possession of our lives and culture.
It is terrifying to become what one is. It means we let go of everything we are not. God is the longing of God to emerge through this creation. There is no "intelligent design" out there pulling puppet strings, manipulating the material world to bring about a pre-ordained spiritual paradise once we muck through this horrible existence. We might rather think that we are the longing of God to fashion in our emerging way the kind of existence and world worthy to allow God's dwelling place under our roofs, under our feet. It has been given to us to work this out with diligence.
This prospect -- the humanity of God -- is frightening. It scuttles many of our theories about "God out there" judging and damning, praising and rewarding us. It asks us to grow up -- not fall back on mommy and daddy's praise or blame, and continue on with faithful hope that love alone reveals the reality of God in our midst.
Ours is a sorry time. It invites correctives of authentic compassion and kindness to heal the hurt and comfort the suffering. We cannot count on leaders whose idea of God is punish and protect. They will deceive and force their will on those weaker than them. We cannot, (God help us), depend on churches, mosques, temples, or any bastions of deficient ideas of what God is and what God wants. "God" is not our idea of God.
God is Itself -- emerging through love, longing to dwell in this world, with one and all, as one and all. The way we know God is God is when our actions are compassionate, loving, kind, and truthful
The fruits of God are God itself.
Without God we are not converging -- not in contemporary culture and world, not within ourselves.
God is the corrective in convergence.
Pray for corrective.
For Epiphany.
Wednesday, January 04, 2006
Appearance and transparence -- maybe that's it. It is said no one has ever seen God, who is pure spirit. But there have been manifestations of God, expressions of this holy spirit that appear to our senses and minds, presenting confirmation of our suspicions (or faith).
There is spirit, and there is manifestation of spirit.
There is nirvana, and there is samsara.
At the same time, one is and is not the other. (Who can hold this contradiction?)
Nicholas Cryfts, (whom we know as the philosopher Nicholas of Cusa, 1401-1464) has his work described:
Theodicy
God is infinite. The infinity of God leads Nicholas of Cusa to affirm the coincidence of opposites. Observing how, in a circumference carried to infinity, the straight and the curved line coincide, he affirms that in the infinity of God all oppositions are identified, all distinctions overcome, and all contrariety fades into nothingness, since the correlative is not to be found. God is the "implicatio" of all opposites. But what in God is "implicatio" and "complicatio," becomes "explicatio" in the universe, which results from multiplicity, distinction, and opposition.
This concept does not differ substantially from the Neo-Platonic idea. The "explicatio" is equivalent to Platonic emanations, by virtue of which God, absolute unity, becomes multiple through subsequent emanations. The concept of Nicholas of Cusa becomes more dangerous because of the consequences he derives from "explicatio." The world is an infinite potential, and because of this it participates in an attribute of divinity. This theory was to be reaffirmed by Giordano Bruno. God is as it were contracted in beings; He is the absolute quiddity of all the things in which He is contracted.
(http://radicalacademy.com/philcusa.htm)
Quiddity means essence, whatness.
Giordano Bruno was murdered by the Catholic Church for not believing what it believed. It's a fact. There are many disturbing facts.
Bruno (1548-1600) was burned at the stake as a heretic. Four hundred years after his execution, official expression of "profound sorrow" and acknowledgement of error at Bruno's condemnation to death was made, during the papacy of John Paul II.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Giordano_Bruno
Last night in West Virginia church bells sounded with the joyous proclamation that trapped miners were found alive. The family and community sang hymns and cried with joy at the rescue. But it was short lived. The news was erroneous. In fact, only one of thirteen trapped survived. Where does praise and thanksgiving to God go when it stops on a dime?
Su Sane said at conversation that if time were money we are wealthy. Some people are very busy and have no time. We have all the time in the world. She says of herself that she is very wealthy. Time is expensive. She spends much for it. She has a great deal of time.
Through the rise and fall of empires, through the creation of vast bodies of symbols that give shape to our dreams; through the forging of magic keys with which to unlock the mysteries of creation; through it all we are marching from epoch to epoch towards the fullest realization of our soul.
- Rabindranath Tagore ( 1861-1941)
Today my marching took thoughts to Cape Breton.
Amber's went to Spain and Egypt. Paul's to the Yukon. Joanie's to Princeton. Robert's to an unpainted round chair where a 7 year old girl sits. Jayen went to an ecstatic place with joy. Sylvia travels where she doesn't know a thing. Saskia went to mists of snow on mountain tops. Su Sane was spending time. Helen thought she'd wait til next time to share her trip. There was a curious peace at conversation.
I hope Giordano and the men from West Virginia are at peace.
They are transparent. They have gone. Where?
We'll see.
There is spirit, and there is manifestation of spirit.
There is nirvana, and there is samsara.
At the same time, one is and is not the other. (Who can hold this contradiction?)
Nicholas Cryfts, (whom we know as the philosopher Nicholas of Cusa, 1401-1464) has his work described:
Theodicy
God is infinite. The infinity of God leads Nicholas of Cusa to affirm the coincidence of opposites. Observing how, in a circumference carried to infinity, the straight and the curved line coincide, he affirms that in the infinity of God all oppositions are identified, all distinctions overcome, and all contrariety fades into nothingness, since the correlative is not to be found. God is the "implicatio" of all opposites. But what in God is "implicatio" and "complicatio," becomes "explicatio" in the universe, which results from multiplicity, distinction, and opposition.
This concept does not differ substantially from the Neo-Platonic idea. The "explicatio" is equivalent to Platonic emanations, by virtue of which God, absolute unity, becomes multiple through subsequent emanations. The concept of Nicholas of Cusa becomes more dangerous because of the consequences he derives from "explicatio." The world is an infinite potential, and because of this it participates in an attribute of divinity. This theory was to be reaffirmed by Giordano Bruno. God is as it were contracted in beings; He is the absolute quiddity of all the things in which He is contracted.
(http://radicalacademy.com/philcusa.htm)
Quiddity means essence, whatness.
Giordano Bruno was murdered by the Catholic Church for not believing what it believed. It's a fact. There are many disturbing facts.
Bruno (1548-1600) was burned at the stake as a heretic. Four hundred years after his execution, official expression of "profound sorrow" and acknowledgement of error at Bruno's condemnation to death was made, during the papacy of John Paul II.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Giordano_Bruno
Last night in West Virginia church bells sounded with the joyous proclamation that trapped miners were found alive. The family and community sang hymns and cried with joy at the rescue. But it was short lived. The news was erroneous. In fact, only one of thirteen trapped survived. Where does praise and thanksgiving to God go when it stops on a dime?
Su Sane said at conversation that if time were money we are wealthy. Some people are very busy and have no time. We have all the time in the world. She says of herself that she is very wealthy. Time is expensive. She spends much for it. She has a great deal of time.
Through the rise and fall of empires, through the creation of vast bodies of symbols that give shape to our dreams; through the forging of magic keys with which to unlock the mysteries of creation; through it all we are marching from epoch to epoch towards the fullest realization of our soul.
- Rabindranath Tagore ( 1861-1941)
Today my marching took thoughts to Cape Breton.
Amber's went to Spain and Egypt. Paul's to the Yukon. Joanie's to Princeton. Robert's to an unpainted round chair where a 7 year old girl sits. Jayen went to an ecstatic place with joy. Sylvia travels where she doesn't know a thing. Saskia went to mists of snow on mountain tops. Su Sane was spending time. Helen thought she'd wait til next time to share her trip. There was a curious peace at conversation.
I hope Giordano and the men from West Virginia are at peace.
They are transparent. They have gone. Where?
We'll see.
Tuesday, January 03, 2006
Not all who come to Buddhist conversation like some of the ideas of Buddhism. Take "nothing" for example. Reading James Carse's Breakfast at the Victory, The Mysticism of Ordinary Experience , the discussion turns to samsara and nirvana.
I liked the story.
Wanting nothing with all your heart, stop the stream
When the world dissolves, everything becomes clear.
Go beyond this way or that way
To the farther shore where the world dissolves,
And everything becomes clear.
Beyond this shore and the farther shore,
Beyond the beyond,
Where there is no beginning, no end,
Without fear, go.
- Dhammapada
There's a difference between meditation practice and meetingbrook conversation. One intends to view nothing; the other places nothing in view. When I say that "transparency" might be a better word for "nothing" there is some softening of rhetorical banter. Several attempts on the part of unruly members to shift the talk to Gnostic Christianity -- the time is up and once again the nonbelievers in victory and defeat smile and argue and make their way out into the cold winter night.
Now you know that he appeared in order to abolish sin,
and that in him there is no sin;
anyone who lives in God does not sin,
and anyone who sins
has never seen him or known him.
1 John 3:6
It is terrific that we might live in God yet still not see God. No sin, nothing doing, is where we no longer are over against ourselves or anything else -- just doing what must be done when it needs doing.
God not sinning means samsara is nirvana, and nirvana samsara -- the world of change and the world of extinguished ignorance, hatred, and earthly suffering. One is the other. Nor is there, then, any other.
Nevertheless, we have the conversation, tea is sipped, rubric of attentive listening thoughtful speech followed, hats and scarves put on, pleasantries posted in the air between all -- "safe home" "drive carefully" "see you next week."
In Hen kai polla -- the Greek phrase, the one and the many -- "kai," i.e. "and" -- is the root word.
Unity.
It's all we have.
I liked the story.
Wanting nothing with all your heart, stop the stream
When the world dissolves, everything becomes clear.
Go beyond this way or that way
To the farther shore where the world dissolves,
And everything becomes clear.
Beyond this shore and the farther shore,
Beyond the beyond,
Where there is no beginning, no end,
Without fear, go.
- Dhammapada
There's a difference between meditation practice and meetingbrook conversation. One intends to view nothing; the other places nothing in view. When I say that "transparency" might be a better word for "nothing" there is some softening of rhetorical banter. Several attempts on the part of unruly members to shift the talk to Gnostic Christianity -- the time is up and once again the nonbelievers in victory and defeat smile and argue and make their way out into the cold winter night.
Now you know that he appeared in order to abolish sin,
and that in him there is no sin;
anyone who lives in God does not sin,
and anyone who sins
has never seen him or known him.
1 John 3:6
It is terrific that we might live in God yet still not see God. No sin, nothing doing, is where we no longer are over against ourselves or anything else -- just doing what must be done when it needs doing.
God not sinning means samsara is nirvana, and nirvana samsara -- the world of change and the world of extinguished ignorance, hatred, and earthly suffering. One is the other. Nor is there, then, any other.
Nevertheless, we have the conversation, tea is sipped, rubric of attentive listening thoughtful speech followed, hats and scarves put on, pleasantries posted in the air between all -- "safe home" "drive carefully" "see you next week."
In Hen kai polla -- the Greek phrase, the one and the many -- "kai," i.e. "and" -- is the root word.
Unity.
It's all we have.
Monday, January 02, 2006
The Baptist deacon said to us God works in mysterious ways.
When the master
Without a word raises his eyebrows
The posts and rafters
The cross beams and roof tree
Begin to smile
There is another place for conversing
Heart to heart
The full moon and the breeze
At the half-open window.
- Muso Soseki (1275-1351)
The 9th day of Christmas. The only prayer is heart to heart. With the woman in Belfast pulling two trash cans to curb. With the man in Lincolnville by green gate, two Springer Spaniels ready to walk.
He brightens with the idea being neighbor to monastic retreat hermitage. It is only an idea, we say. He says we should ask Charlie Cawley to make the place happen.
We say that might not be a bad idea.
Everything in God's hands.
Handing mystery.
(Just saying.)
Our own.
Over.
When the master
Without a word raises his eyebrows
The posts and rafters
The cross beams and roof tree
Begin to smile
There is another place for conversing
Heart to heart
The full moon and the breeze
At the half-open window.
- Muso Soseki (1275-1351)
The 9th day of Christmas. The only prayer is heart to heart. With the woman in Belfast pulling two trash cans to curb. With the man in Lincolnville by green gate, two Springer Spaniels ready to walk.
He brightens with the idea being neighbor to monastic retreat hermitage. It is only an idea, we say. He says we should ask Charlie Cawley to make the place happen.
We say that might not be a bad idea.
Everything in God's hands.
Handing mystery.
(Just saying.)
Our own.
Over.
Sunday, January 01, 2006
Mothering God is day one, job one, for each one of us.
Paul Andrews, in the newsletter of "Sacred Spaces," tells that Jean-Paul Sartre wrote a Christmas play in 1940, "Barjona." The following are excerpts:
The Virgin is pale, and she looks at the baby. What I would paint on her face is an anxious wonderment, such as has never before been seen on a human face. For Christ is her baby, flesh of her flesh, and the fruit of her womb. She has carried him for nine months, and she will give him her breast, and her milk will become the blood of God. There are moments when the temptation is so strong that she forgets that he is God. She folds him in her arms and says: My little one.
...I think that there are other rapid, fleeting moments when she realises at once that Christ is her son, her very own baby, and that he is God. She looks at him and thinks: "This God is my baby. This divine flesh is my flesh. He is made from me. He has my eyes, and the curve of his mouth is the curve of mine. He is like me. He is God and he is like me."
(http://www.sacredspace.ie/latestspace/latestspace17.htm)
This 8th day of Christmas is New years Day. It is celebrated in the Catholic Christian calendar as The Solemnity of Mary, Mother of God.
"He is like me," Mary says through Sartre's pen.
Mothering God, Mary knows, is not a one-time historical event. As absurd as it sounds, each one of us today is invited to mother God.
How is this possible? We do not know how one mothers itself.
Be transparent.
Be innocent.
Be as-is is longing to be.
Become the body, the blood, the water, and the sight of God.
Happy New Birth of God -- all our dear kind mothering communion of beings!
Paul Andrews, in the newsletter of "Sacred Spaces," tells that Jean-Paul Sartre wrote a Christmas play in 1940, "Barjona." The following are excerpts:
The Virgin is pale, and she looks at the baby. What I would paint on her face is an anxious wonderment, such as has never before been seen on a human face. For Christ is her baby, flesh of her flesh, and the fruit of her womb. She has carried him for nine months, and she will give him her breast, and her milk will become the blood of God. There are moments when the temptation is so strong that she forgets that he is God. She folds him in her arms and says: My little one.
...I think that there are other rapid, fleeting moments when she realises at once that Christ is her son, her very own baby, and that he is God. She looks at him and thinks: "This God is my baby. This divine flesh is my flesh. He is made from me. He has my eyes, and the curve of his mouth is the curve of mine. He is like me. He is God and he is like me."
(http://www.sacredspace.ie/latestspace/latestspace17.htm)
This 8th day of Christmas is New years Day. It is celebrated in the Catholic Christian calendar as The Solemnity of Mary, Mother of God.
"He is like me," Mary says through Sartre's pen.
Mothering God, Mary knows, is not a one-time historical event. As absurd as it sounds, each one of us today is invited to mother God.
How is this possible? We do not know how one mothers itself.
Be transparent.
Be innocent.
Be as-is is longing to be.
Become the body, the blood, the water, and the sight of God.
Happy New Birth of God -- all our dear kind mothering communion of beings!
Saturday, December 31, 2005
Bells chime into solid cold. Firewood catches in kitchen stove.
If you understand the first word of Zen
You will know the last word.
The last word or the first word,
Is not a word.
- Wu-men
Ice collars stone in brook, pushes land at edge of pond.
He sends hailstones like crumbs -- who can withstand his cold?
He will send out his word, and all will be melted; his spirit will breathe, and the waters will flow. (from Psalm 147)
This 7th day of Christmas is New Years Eve.
Mostly, it is Saturday night.
It is a matter of faith that waters will again flow.
Today we watch ice. In time, watch water.
Happy New Year!
Not a word.
Be, as is, is.
If you understand the first word of Zen
You will know the last word.
The last word or the first word,
Is not a word.
- Wu-men
Ice collars stone in brook, pushes land at edge of pond.
He sends hailstones like crumbs -- who can withstand his cold?
He will send out his word, and all will be melted; his spirit will breathe, and the waters will flow. (from Psalm 147)
This 7th day of Christmas is New Years Eve.
Mostly, it is Saturday night.
It is a matter of faith that waters will again flow.
Today we watch ice. In time, watch water.
Happy New Year!
Not a word.
Be, as is, is.
Friday, December 30, 2005
Chimes pause. Wind takes a breath.
Cold night, no wind, bamboo making noises,
Noises far apart, now bunched together,
Filtering the pine-flanked lattice.
Listening with ears is less fine than
Listening with the mind.
Beside the lamp I lay
Aside the half scroll of sutra
- Hsu-t'ang Chih-yu
I prefer mountain streams rather than mountain tops. Tumbling down Ragged Mountain, water dances just ahead of clutching cold fingers forming ice.
Watching what passes where you pause to be what is passed.
This 6th day of Christmas.
Water seeks lower ground.
Tonight, low ground.
Lowering water.
Chants in dark.
Unfathoming.
Bows.
Cold night, no wind, bamboo making noises,
Noises far apart, now bunched together,
Filtering the pine-flanked lattice.
Listening with ears is less fine than
Listening with the mind.
Beside the lamp I lay
Aside the half scroll of sutra
- Hsu-t'ang Chih-yu
I prefer mountain streams rather than mountain tops. Tumbling down Ragged Mountain, water dances just ahead of clutching cold fingers forming ice.
Watching what passes where you pause to be what is passed.
This 6th day of Christmas.
Water seeks lower ground.
Tonight, low ground.
Lowering water.
Chants in dark.
Unfathoming.
Bows.
Thursday, December 29, 2005
They're not only words.
Woman from Bangkok visiting shop said she wasn't going to convert to Christianity. Her friend wants her to. She'll remain Buddhist, she says. She likes the shop. Her companion says to her on way out, "I guess I know where you'll be spending time tomorrow morning.
Tomorrow morning I'll be in prison, God willing, meeting with sixteen students in final interviews.
One glance at the morning star,
And the snow got even whiter.
The look in his eye
Chills hair and bones.
If earth itself hadn't
Experienced this instant,
Old Shakyamuni never would have happened.
- Daito (1282-1334)
It is the 5th day of Christmas. Rain drenches Maine. Snow trickles away.
The Lord has sworn, and he will not repent: "You are a priest for ever, a priest of the priesthood of Melchisedech".
The Lord is at your right hand, and on the day of his anger he will shatter kings.
(-- from Psalm 109 {110})
Thomas Becket was murdered in Canterbury Cathedral by king's men carrying out what was perceived to be the will of Henry II. Edward Grim, a monk, observed the attack from the safety of a hiding place near the altar. He told, finally, what he saw and heard. In this country, we long for someone who has seen and heard to come out of hiding, tell from the inside the intrigue and hushed tones that have brought us to such a awkward resemblance of who and what democracy and republic longs to be.
Kings kill Archbishops and Bishops. They are killed in large English cathedrals and small Latin American country churches.
Becket, once close friend of King Henry, fell afoul averring he was now God's servant first and foremost. Kings don't like such standing. It sounds disloyal to them not to have their will first and foremost.
He had to take refuge in a French monastery for six years, and when he returned to his diocese four knights, inspired by careless words from the king, assassinated him in his cathedral on 29 December 1170 (St Thomas Becket, 1118 - 1170, Universalis.com)
Playwright Jean Anouilh is quoted to say: "The only immorality is not to do what one has to do when one has to do it." And, "Propaganda is a soft weapon; hold it in your hands too long, and it will move about like a snake, and strike the other way."
These are things kings must take into account.
Some in America worry that a king has insinuated himself into the nation's capitol. This king starts wars, orders torture, overlooks illegalities, assumes to himself whatever power available, has a fawning court, brooks no disloyalty, and carelessly uses words to rid his domain of troublesome opposition. At this year's end he busies himself cutting brush, riding bike, and putting into awkward words the 27th new explanation of exactly why he took us to war, why he expects all rights to be predicated on his discretion rather than on law or will of the people.
Novelist William Gaddis said, "There have never in history been so many opportunities to do so many things that aren't worth doing." It is troubling that so many are so distracted allowing this insinuating careless user of words the forum to say so little of value with so many foolish words.
Words are dangerous when spoken carelessly by kings and insinuation of king.
We pray for defusing sanity and sacredness to find voice.
We pray for new wording that will sound clear new perspective.
We pray for gathering of wise and visionary men and women who actually love the earth, love people, and love God -- who put their bodies where words are. Poet Daniel Berrigan said that, "Bodies belong where words are."
Let kings and rulers, pretenders and patronizers -- fade away as fades this year end.
No longer try to be rid of opposition. Rather, practice becoming free by entering words with care.
Words are that which fall from Word Itself.
Retrieve them.
Serve their origin.
Woman from Bangkok visiting shop said she wasn't going to convert to Christianity. Her friend wants her to. She'll remain Buddhist, she says. She likes the shop. Her companion says to her on way out, "I guess I know where you'll be spending time tomorrow morning.
Tomorrow morning I'll be in prison, God willing, meeting with sixteen students in final interviews.
One glance at the morning star,
And the snow got even whiter.
The look in his eye
Chills hair and bones.
If earth itself hadn't
Experienced this instant,
Old Shakyamuni never would have happened.
- Daito (1282-1334)
It is the 5th day of Christmas. Rain drenches Maine. Snow trickles away.
The Lord has sworn, and he will not repent: "You are a priest for ever, a priest of the priesthood of Melchisedech".
The Lord is at your right hand, and on the day of his anger he will shatter kings.
(-- from Psalm 109 {110})
Thomas Becket was murdered in Canterbury Cathedral by king's men carrying out what was perceived to be the will of Henry II. Edward Grim, a monk, observed the attack from the safety of a hiding place near the altar. He told, finally, what he saw and heard. In this country, we long for someone who has seen and heard to come out of hiding, tell from the inside the intrigue and hushed tones that have brought us to such a awkward resemblance of who and what democracy and republic longs to be.
Kings kill Archbishops and Bishops. They are killed in large English cathedrals and small Latin American country churches.
Becket, once close friend of King Henry, fell afoul averring he was now God's servant first and foremost. Kings don't like such standing. It sounds disloyal to them not to have their will first and foremost.
He had to take refuge in a French monastery for six years, and when he returned to his diocese four knights, inspired by careless words from the king, assassinated him in his cathedral on 29 December 1170 (St Thomas Becket, 1118 - 1170, Universalis.com)
Playwright Jean Anouilh is quoted to say: "The only immorality is not to do what one has to do when one has to do it." And, "Propaganda is a soft weapon; hold it in your hands too long, and it will move about like a snake, and strike the other way."
These are things kings must take into account.
Some in America worry that a king has insinuated himself into the nation's capitol. This king starts wars, orders torture, overlooks illegalities, assumes to himself whatever power available, has a fawning court, brooks no disloyalty, and carelessly uses words to rid his domain of troublesome opposition. At this year's end he busies himself cutting brush, riding bike, and putting into awkward words the 27th new explanation of exactly why he took us to war, why he expects all rights to be predicated on his discretion rather than on law or will of the people.
Novelist William Gaddis said, "There have never in history been so many opportunities to do so many things that aren't worth doing." It is troubling that so many are so distracted allowing this insinuating careless user of words the forum to say so little of value with so many foolish words.
Words are dangerous when spoken carelessly by kings and insinuation of king.
We pray for defusing sanity and sacredness to find voice.
We pray for new wording that will sound clear new perspective.
We pray for gathering of wise and visionary men and women who actually love the earth, love people, and love God -- who put their bodies where words are. Poet Daniel Berrigan said that, "Bodies belong where words are."
Let kings and rulers, pretenders and patronizers -- fade away as fades this year end.
No longer try to be rid of opposition. Rather, practice becoming free by entering words with care.
Words are that which fall from Word Itself.
Retrieve them.
Serve their origin.
Wednesday, December 28, 2005
We still kill innocents. When they are children, it breaks the heart.
To those with power to bring death -- it is a 'king of the hill' game they play. Except the game has taken on a different tactic since as children we played it on city street or farm mound. Now the game is not to care who is destroyed or killed. Those with power, guns, or bombs spray destruction on anyone in their way as they play their awful games of "This is mine" and "We are more pure" and "God has chosen me to kill you, because you are wrong."
From the Office of Readings:
Why are the nations in a ferment? Why do the people make their vain plans?
The kings of the earth have risen up; the leaders have united against the Lord, against his anointed.
"Let us break their chains, that bind us; let us throw off their yoke from our shoulders!"
The Lord laughs at them, he who lives in the heavens derides them.
Then he speaks to them in his anger; in his fury he throws them into confusion:
"But I -- I have set up my king on Sion, my holy mountain".
(from Psalm 2) http://www.universalis.com/-500/readings.htm
This 4th day of Christmas we remember with sorrow those innocents killed by kings who court visibility and adulation; and we watch with wary worry those who would repeat, endlessly, torture and destruction for ends they can measure and store away in vaults.
If we are to understand holiness, we have to come face to face with innocence. The metaphor of Christ the King feels awkward. Especially king of an invisible kingdom. And what do we make of innocence?
Mindful innocence (that is, aware unknowing) is not the same as willful ignorance (that is, arrogant certitude). To be certain, and not to question the point of view held -- is a recipe for prolonging suffering. Alternately, to be and remain open to the spirit of unfolding reality taking place right in front of us -- is to not know the direction we are being asked to follow until it is presented (suddenly, surprisingly) for our response.
Why remain open?
56
Why? This is everyone's favorite question. No one ever says:
Because our bags are always packed and we hear footsteps
on the stairs. Because the dark feels unwashed and incomplete
and Maimonides said, "When the Messiah comes war will end,
God's blessings will be on all men." Because we have a God
who never dies and never comes and it's three in the morning
and I'm walking a crying baby around, singing lullabies Grandma
sang to me. Because I expect nothing and what I expect defines me.
Because the world exists without us but without us it is nothing.
Because all my life I've been afraid of the next page. Because
nothing is explained and my old bedroom shadows are thriving
and the floor tilts west toward Lake Ontario where all the snow
comes from. Because it's getting late and I'm in bed, waiting
for Mother to come kiss me good night, like she promised.
(from "Poems No. 1, 56 and 80" by Philip Schultz from Living in the Past.
We remain open to honor the innocents who have gone before and those that will follow.
The kings of this world vie for hills and vaults. The king of that mysterious place called heaven dwells in open inner receptivity -- that is, within aware unknowing presence.
Heaven helps those who help their selves enter true Self.
Nan Merrill's transformational companion to the psalms words Psalm 2 in the following way:
Why do nations and people plot against
one another,
setting themselves apart and conspiring
against the Beloved and those
who follow Love's way?
They say to themselves, "We are free
of Love's law;
humility and service are for others."
The Beloved, who is ever present, can but
smile at their foolishness,
knowing that one day, they will
fall to their knees in regret.
They do not hear the Beloved's firm and
steadfast voice:
"I have set Love in your hearts,
my dwelling place."
(from Psalm 2, in Psalms For Praying, An Invitation to Wholeness, by Nan C. Merrill)
So much depends on wording.
So much, on where we dwell.
Love the open inner heart.
Broken, open.
Be innocent.
To those with power to bring death -- it is a 'king of the hill' game they play. Except the game has taken on a different tactic since as children we played it on city street or farm mound. Now the game is not to care who is destroyed or killed. Those with power, guns, or bombs spray destruction on anyone in their way as they play their awful games of "This is mine" and "We are more pure" and "God has chosen me to kill you, because you are wrong."
From the Office of Readings:
Why are the nations in a ferment? Why do the people make their vain plans?
The kings of the earth have risen up; the leaders have united against the Lord, against his anointed.
"Let us break their chains, that bind us; let us throw off their yoke from our shoulders!"
The Lord laughs at them, he who lives in the heavens derides them.
Then he speaks to them in his anger; in his fury he throws them into confusion:
"But I -- I have set up my king on Sion, my holy mountain".
(from Psalm 2) http://www.universalis.com/-500/readings.htm
This 4th day of Christmas we remember with sorrow those innocents killed by kings who court visibility and adulation; and we watch with wary worry those who would repeat, endlessly, torture and destruction for ends they can measure and store away in vaults.
If we are to understand holiness, we have to come face to face with innocence. The metaphor of Christ the King feels awkward. Especially king of an invisible kingdom. And what do we make of innocence?
Mindful innocence (that is, aware unknowing) is not the same as willful ignorance (that is, arrogant certitude). To be certain, and not to question the point of view held -- is a recipe for prolonging suffering. Alternately, to be and remain open to the spirit of unfolding reality taking place right in front of us -- is to not know the direction we are being asked to follow until it is presented (suddenly, surprisingly) for our response.
Why remain open?
56
Why? This is everyone's favorite question. No one ever says:
Because our bags are always packed and we hear footsteps
on the stairs. Because the dark feels unwashed and incomplete
and Maimonides said, "When the Messiah comes war will end,
God's blessings will be on all men." Because we have a God
who never dies and never comes and it's three in the morning
and I'm walking a crying baby around, singing lullabies Grandma
sang to me. Because I expect nothing and what I expect defines me.
Because the world exists without us but without us it is nothing.
Because all my life I've been afraid of the next page. Because
nothing is explained and my old bedroom shadows are thriving
and the floor tilts west toward Lake Ontario where all the snow
comes from. Because it's getting late and I'm in bed, waiting
for Mother to come kiss me good night, like she promised.
(from "Poems No. 1, 56 and 80" by Philip Schultz from Living in the Past.
We remain open to honor the innocents who have gone before and those that will follow.
The kings of this world vie for hills and vaults. The king of that mysterious place called heaven dwells in open inner receptivity -- that is, within aware unknowing presence.
Heaven helps those who help their selves enter true Self.
Nan Merrill's transformational companion to the psalms words Psalm 2 in the following way:
Why do nations and people plot against
one another,
setting themselves apart and conspiring
against the Beloved and those
who follow Love's way?
They say to themselves, "We are free
of Love's law;
humility and service are for others."
The Beloved, who is ever present, can but
smile at their foolishness,
knowing that one day, they will
fall to their knees in regret.
They do not hear the Beloved's firm and
steadfast voice:
"I have set Love in your hearts,
my dwelling place."
(from Psalm 2, in Psalms For Praying, An Invitation to Wholeness, by Nan C. Merrill)
So much depends on wording.
So much, on where we dwell.
Love the open inner heart.
Broken, open.
Be innocent.
Tuesday, December 27, 2005
John says God is light.
If so, every drop of water carries God.
Evening mountains veiled in somber mist;
One path entering the wooded hill:
The monk has gone off locking his pine door.
From a bamboo pipe a lonely trickle of water flows
- Ishikawa Jozan (1583-1672)
And every sky narrates God's story.
The skies tell the story of the glory of God,
the firmament proclaims the work of his hands;
day pours out the news to day,
night passes to night the knowledge.
Not a speech, not a word,
not a voice goes unheard.
Their sound is spread throughout the earth,
their message to all the corners of the world.
--from Psalm 18 (19)
Creation conspires to breathe life through and through.
John is worth listening to:
Something which has existed since the beginning,
that we have heard,
and we have seen with our own eyes;
that we have watched
and touched with our hands:
the Word, who is life --
this is our subject.
That life was made visible:
we saw it and we are giving our testimony,
telling you of the eternal life
which was with the Father and has been made visible to us.
What we have seen and heard
we are telling you
so that you too may be in union with us,
as we are in union
with the Father
and with his Son Jesus Christ.
We are writing this to you to make our own joy complete.
This is what we have heard from him,
and the message that we are announcing to you:
God is light; there is no darkness in him at all.
If we say that we are in union with God
while we are living in darkness,
we are lying because we are not living the truth.
But if we live our lives in the light,
as he is in the light,
we are in union with one another,
and the blood of Jesus, his Son,
purifies us from all sin.
If we say we have no sin in us;
we are deceiving ourselves
and refusing to admit the truth;
but if we acknowledge our sins,
then God who is faithful and just
will forgive our sins and purify us
from everything that is wrong.
To say that we have never sinned
is to call God a liar
and to show that his word is not in us.
I am writing this, my children,
to stop you sinning;
but if anyone should sin,
we have our advocate with the Father,
Jesus Christ, who is just;
he is the sacrifice that takes our sins away,
and not only ours,
but the whole world's.
We can be sure that we know God
only by keeping his commandments.
(1 John 1:1 - 2:3)
Let's settle sin for today. Sin is refusal to let light be seen in one another. Sin is the way we turn from works in the light to deceit in the night. Sin is intentional unawareness and willful unacceptance of what is of another.
God's commandments are simple. Only this: love transparency, serve transparently. Be alone what is true; only see with undivided heart, undivided mind.
John has always had a way with love and light.
Now it's ours to wake and wander with clear sight.
This third day of Christmas.
If so, every drop of water carries God.
Evening mountains veiled in somber mist;
One path entering the wooded hill:
The monk has gone off locking his pine door.
From a bamboo pipe a lonely trickle of water flows
- Ishikawa Jozan (1583-1672)
And every sky narrates God's story.
The skies tell the story of the glory of God,
the firmament proclaims the work of his hands;
day pours out the news to day,
night passes to night the knowledge.
Not a speech, not a word,
not a voice goes unheard.
Their sound is spread throughout the earth,
their message to all the corners of the world.
--from Psalm 18 (19)
Creation conspires to breathe life through and through.
John is worth listening to:
Something which has existed since the beginning,
that we have heard,
and we have seen with our own eyes;
that we have watched
and touched with our hands:
the Word, who is life --
this is our subject.
That life was made visible:
we saw it and we are giving our testimony,
telling you of the eternal life
which was with the Father and has been made visible to us.
What we have seen and heard
we are telling you
so that you too may be in union with us,
as we are in union
with the Father
and with his Son Jesus Christ.
We are writing this to you to make our own joy complete.
This is what we have heard from him,
and the message that we are announcing to you:
God is light; there is no darkness in him at all.
If we say that we are in union with God
while we are living in darkness,
we are lying because we are not living the truth.
But if we live our lives in the light,
as he is in the light,
we are in union with one another,
and the blood of Jesus, his Son,
purifies us from all sin.
If we say we have no sin in us;
we are deceiving ourselves
and refusing to admit the truth;
but if we acknowledge our sins,
then God who is faithful and just
will forgive our sins and purify us
from everything that is wrong.
To say that we have never sinned
is to call God a liar
and to show that his word is not in us.
I am writing this, my children,
to stop you sinning;
but if anyone should sin,
we have our advocate with the Father,
Jesus Christ, who is just;
he is the sacrifice that takes our sins away,
and not only ours,
but the whole world's.
We can be sure that we know God
only by keeping his commandments.
(1 John 1:1 - 2:3)
Let's settle sin for today. Sin is refusal to let light be seen in one another. Sin is the way we turn from works in the light to deceit in the night. Sin is intentional unawareness and willful unacceptance of what is of another.
God's commandments are simple. Only this: love transparency, serve transparently. Be alone what is true; only see with undivided heart, undivided mind.
John has always had a way with love and light.
Now it's ours to wake and wander with clear sight.
This third day of Christmas.
Monday, December 26, 2005
Stephen was murdered.
Some political religious group wanted their way -- and he was in it. Stephen was marked as traitor and terrorist by men who were really zealots and terrorists. It is considered good form to label others what you are and punish them while you stand aloof and behind their suffering. Anyone working to relieve poverty and equalize inequities -- then and today -- is considered unpatriotic, enemy, and dangerous. Trumped charges and false witnesses rendered him a doomed man. Rendition works.
Dissatisfaction concerning the distribution of alms from the community's fund having arisen in the Church, seven men were selected and specially ordained by the Apostles to take care of the temporal relief of the poorer members. Of these seven, Stephen, is the first mentioned and the best known. http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/14286b.htm
He is a man for our time. He is a man for our country. His story should haunt Americans.
As should the Christmas story.
That the Christmas story is a protest against empire may not be noted much among us not only because of the blinding familiarity of the story, but also for another reason. We are the empire, the world's sole and reigning superpower, whose military and economic power stretches to every land. The American empire is, I hope and believe, more benign than many of its predecessors, but for Americans today, the Christmas story brings not only comfort and joy, but caution and challenge.
Our American story, whether told as the story of political freedom or of free markets, is not the only story. There are other cultures and peoples whose stories bear their own truth and power -- and which deserve our respect. Moreover, God has a story, too, and this story tells us that things are not always what they seem to be. Most of all, the Christmas story warns against the Achilles' heel of every empire, pride and pretension. In her song of ecstatic praise, the Magnificat, Mary sings of God who "has scattered the proud in the imaginations of their thoughts." "He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly." If the Christmas story once again warms our hearts, as I hope it does, it is also a story that sends a chill upon every empire.
(--by Anthony Robinson, a pastor of the United Church of Christ, Published on Monday, December 26, 2005 by the Seattle Post-Intelligencer, "A Story to Warm Hearts and Chill Empires," by Anthony B. Robinson) http://www.commondreams.org/views05/1226-27.htm
The sweetness of the manger scene, shepherds, livestock, and angels is winsome story. The underlying power -- the poignant story that the surface story masks -- is told by master story tellers, with an eye to preserving the truth for future understanding, tucked away in plain sight.
I'm unsure Christians know what it means to be Christian.
Here's Stephen at end:
7:55. But he, being full of the Holy Ghost, looking up steadfastly to heaven, saw the glory of God and Jesus standing on the right hand of God. And he said: Behold, I see the heavens opened and the Son of man standing on the right hand of God.
7:56. And they, crying out with a loud voice, stopped their ears and with one accord ran violently upon him.
7:57. And casting him forth without the city, they stoned him. And the witnesses laid down their garments at the feet of a young man, whose name was Saul.
7:58. And they stoned Stephen, invoking and saying: Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.
7:59. And falling on his knees, he cried with a loud voice, saying: Lord, lay not his sin to their charge: And when he had said this, he fell asleep in the Lord. And Saul was consenting to his death.
(--from Acts of the Apostles, Chapter 7, http://www.newadvent.org/bible/act007.htm)
On second thought, maybe those who really understand the Christian vocation know that they are at odds with the political powers of this world, and they will not be assimilated. Rather, they hide. Sometimes, in plain sight.
Meanwhile, those who play at Christianity -- who conjugate political power with religious pretense, whoop up their faith and ready their ammunition to take out threats to single-minded belief in assimilation and moral superiority -- remain very visible, professing, and doctrinaire.
To long for the kingdom of heaven today is to long for the Jesus born to Mary -- to long for peace beyond understanding, and to long for reality that dwells in the midst of, but not subject to, mendacity, cynicism, and ruthless ambition.
It is the second day of Christmas.
Stephen's day.
Celebrate his warning!
Some political religious group wanted their way -- and he was in it. Stephen was marked as traitor and terrorist by men who were really zealots and terrorists. It is considered good form to label others what you are and punish them while you stand aloof and behind their suffering. Anyone working to relieve poverty and equalize inequities -- then and today -- is considered unpatriotic, enemy, and dangerous. Trumped charges and false witnesses rendered him a doomed man. Rendition works.
Dissatisfaction concerning the distribution of alms from the community's fund having arisen in the Church, seven men were selected and specially ordained by the Apostles to take care of the temporal relief of the poorer members. Of these seven, Stephen, is the first mentioned and the best known. http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/14286b.htm
He is a man for our time. He is a man for our country. His story should haunt Americans.
As should the Christmas story.
That the Christmas story is a protest against empire may not be noted much among us not only because of the blinding familiarity of the story, but also for another reason. We are the empire, the world's sole and reigning superpower, whose military and economic power stretches to every land. The American empire is, I hope and believe, more benign than many of its predecessors, but for Americans today, the Christmas story brings not only comfort and joy, but caution and challenge.
Our American story, whether told as the story of political freedom or of free markets, is not the only story. There are other cultures and peoples whose stories bear their own truth and power -- and which deserve our respect. Moreover, God has a story, too, and this story tells us that things are not always what they seem to be. Most of all, the Christmas story warns against the Achilles' heel of every empire, pride and pretension. In her song of ecstatic praise, the Magnificat, Mary sings of God who "has scattered the proud in the imaginations of their thoughts." "He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly." If the Christmas story once again warms our hearts, as I hope it does, it is also a story that sends a chill upon every empire.
(--by Anthony Robinson, a pastor of the United Church of Christ, Published on Monday, December 26, 2005 by the Seattle Post-Intelligencer, "A Story to Warm Hearts and Chill Empires," by Anthony B. Robinson) http://www.commondreams.org/views05/1226-27.htm
The sweetness of the manger scene, shepherds, livestock, and angels is winsome story. The underlying power -- the poignant story that the surface story masks -- is told by master story tellers, with an eye to preserving the truth for future understanding, tucked away in plain sight.
I'm unsure Christians know what it means to be Christian.
Here's Stephen at end:
7:55. But he, being full of the Holy Ghost, looking up steadfastly to heaven, saw the glory of God and Jesus standing on the right hand of God. And he said: Behold, I see the heavens opened and the Son of man standing on the right hand of God.
7:56. And they, crying out with a loud voice, stopped their ears and with one accord ran violently upon him.
7:57. And casting him forth without the city, they stoned him. And the witnesses laid down their garments at the feet of a young man, whose name was Saul.
7:58. And they stoned Stephen, invoking and saying: Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.
7:59. And falling on his knees, he cried with a loud voice, saying: Lord, lay not his sin to their charge: And when he had said this, he fell asleep in the Lord. And Saul was consenting to his death.
(--from Acts of the Apostles, Chapter 7, http://www.newadvent.org/bible/act007.htm)
On second thought, maybe those who really understand the Christian vocation know that they are at odds with the political powers of this world, and they will not be assimilated. Rather, they hide. Sometimes, in plain sight.
Meanwhile, those who play at Christianity -- who conjugate political power with religious pretense, whoop up their faith and ready their ammunition to take out threats to single-minded belief in assimilation and moral superiority -- remain very visible, professing, and doctrinaire.
To long for the kingdom of heaven today is to long for the Jesus born to Mary -- to long for peace beyond understanding, and to long for reality that dwells in the midst of, but not subject to, mendacity, cynicism, and ruthless ambition.
It is the second day of Christmas.
Stephen's day.
Celebrate his warning!
Sunday, December 25, 2005
"Becoming One-Like, Us"
(from prayer, Christmas liturgy, punctuation added)
Near (ness)
Love (ing),
Itself
This day
Births
What
Is
Near (ly) accomplished;
Christ
Is,
(No,
Stranger) --
We are...
Nearing
(What a sight to
See)
And so it is...
Christmas.
(-- Poem for Christmas, 25December2005, by Bill Halpin, with gratefulness for each and all)
(from prayer, Christmas liturgy, punctuation added)
Near (ness)
Love (ing),
Itself
This day
Births
What
Is
Near (ly) accomplished;
Christ
Is,
(No,
Stranger) --
We are...
Nearing
(What a sight to
See)
And so it is...
Christmas.
(-- Poem for Christmas, 25December2005, by Bill Halpin, with gratefulness for each and all)
Saturday, December 24, 2005
Walking path to brook over bridge knocking branches laden with fresh snow as dawn rises. In cabin woodstove sleepy sticks slip out of cold tightness stretching into valiant effort small flame embraces and devours with abandon.
In my middle years I love the Tao
And by Deep South Mountain I make my home.
When happy I go alone into the mountains.
Only I understand this joy.
I walk until the water ends, and sit
Waiting for the hour when clouds rise.
If I happen to meet an old woodcutter,
I chat with him, laughing and lost to time.
- Wang Wei (699-759)
Mute light rises from mist over fragile snow. Hosmer Pond bathes magical white. Fir pine trees hang limbs to ground.
Light rises, as it does, through old split apple trees.
Sits solitude.
Lauding resonates.
Day unfolds prayer.
Christ comes through this.
In my middle years I love the Tao
And by Deep South Mountain I make my home.
When happy I go alone into the mountains.
Only I understand this joy.
I walk until the water ends, and sit
Waiting for the hour when clouds rise.
If I happen to meet an old woodcutter,
I chat with him, laughing and lost to time.
- Wang Wei (699-759)
Mute light rises from mist over fragile snow. Hosmer Pond bathes magical white. Fir pine trees hang limbs to ground.
Light rises, as it does, through old split apple trees.
Sits solitude.
Lauding resonates.
Day unfolds prayer.
Christ comes through this.
Friday, December 23, 2005
Thursday, December 22, 2005
"The Spirit travels only through the open."
That's what Billy said. He thought the Spirit had been sent away from the Roman Catholic Church by them and has found an inspiring welcome elsewhere. "They thought they owned the Spirit because they made its words into true statements used exclusively by them at the mass."
In the car, idling in parking lot behind Pen Bay Hospital, Billy was speaking to Saskia and I about the New Zealand Book of Common Prayer. We'd been to morning service at St Peter's Episcopal Church in Rockland. (Megen took a ring, blessed by those attending, and said she did not want to be dragged, kicking and screaming, into heaven -- but wished to openly respond to the Divine Lover's invitation.) We sat in small, chilly room under bell tower where bell tolled in stately remembrance of what bells remember. They've been doing this Wednesday mornings since 9/11.
I thought (while driving route 1 east) of all the times I'd not said what Billy said while attending those true statements and feeling no sense of what was curiously absent. Spirit is not a hidden, legal, or dogmatic possession.
Lute Music
The Earth will be going on a long time
Before it finally freezes;
Men will be on it; they will take names,
Give their deeds reasons.
We will be here only
As chemical constituents --
A small franchise indeed.
Right now we have lives,
Corpuscles, Ambitions, Caresses,
Like everybody had once --
Here at the year's end, at the feast
Of birth, let us bring to each other
The gifts brought once west through deserts --
The precious metal of our mingled hair,
The frankincense of enraptured arms and legs,
The myrrh of desperate, invincible kisses --
Let us celebrate the daily
Recurrent nativity of love,
The endless epiphany of our fluent selves,
While the earth rolls away under us
Into unknown snows and summers,
Into untraveled spaces of the stars.
(Poem: "Lute Music" by Kenneth Rexroth from Sacramental Acts. Copper Canyon Press."
This is not to say that some victory is won in a denominational game of "Who's Got The Spirit?" (available for purchase in time for the holidays). Nor do I run from bath exclaiming "Eureka!" having solved an equation useful for moving the world. No, rather, it is a thought that has occurred many times while watching in silence the modes of meditative innerness and presentational exteriority in various churches over dozens of years.
The psalmist wrote:
But now, God, you have spurned us and confounded us,
so that we must go into battle without you.
You have put us to flight in the sight of our enemies,
and those who hate us plunder us at will.
You have handed us over like sheep sold for food,
you have scattered us among the nations.
You have sold your people for no money,
not even profiting by the exchange.
You have made us the laughing-stock of our neighbours,
mocked and derided by those who surround us.
The nations have made us a by-word,
the peoples toss their heads in scorn.
All the day I am ashamed,
I blush with shame
as they reproach me and revile me,
my enemies and my persecutors.
-- Psalm 43 (44), from Office of Readings, Vigils
Church and State might not be so separated after all. When politics and approved interpretation becomes the inserted text substituting for the open and living 'word' of What Is True, What Is Holiness Itself -- something is not only lost, but something unseemly, opaque, and divisive is erected to wall in and wall out.
Kenneth Rexroth said, "Man thrives where angels would die of ecstasy and where pigs would die of disgust." And "I've never understood why I'm [considered] a member of the avant-garde... I [just] try to say, as simply as I can, the simplest and most profound experiences of my life."
(from "The Writer's Almanac" for Thursday, December 22, 2005)
Kenneth Rexroth translated this Japanese poem:
LVI -
I have always known
That at last I would
Take this road, but yesterday
I did not know that it would be today.
{Tsui ni yuku
Michi to wa kanete
Kikishi kado
Kinoo kyoo to wa
Omowazarishi wo}
(poem by Ariwara no Narihira 825-880ce, translated by Kenneth Roxroth in One Hundred Poems from the Japanese),
It is, indeed, today.
Finally, Rumi:
Creatures are cups. The sciences and the arts and all branches of knowledge are inscriptions around the outside of the cups. When a cup shatters, the writing can no longer be read. The wine's the thing! The wine that's held in the mold of these physical cups. Drink the wine and know what lasts and what to love. The man who truly asks must be sure of two things: One, that he's mistaken in what he's doing or thinking now. And two, that there is a wisdom he doesn't know yet. Asking is half of knowing.
Everyone turns toward someone. Look for one scarred by the King's polo stick.
A man or a woman is said to be absorbed when the water has total control of him, and he no control of the water. A swimmer moves around willfully. An absorbed being has no will but the water's going. Any word or act is not really personal, but the way the water has of speaking or doing. As when you hear a voice coming out of a wall, and you know that it's not the wall talking, but someone inside, or perhaps someone outside echoing off the wall. Saints are like that. They've achieved the condition of a wall, or a door.
(-Translated by Coleman Barks with A.J. Arberry, From Enlightened Mind Edited by Stephen Mitchell)
Wish every wall a door.
Rumi is a door. "An absorbed being has no will but the water's going."
Christ-child is adorable. "For, this day, is born to you a Saviour, who is Christ the Lord..." (Luke 2)
Nativity longs to pass through.
This day.
That's what Billy said. He thought the Spirit had been sent away from the Roman Catholic Church by them and has found an inspiring welcome elsewhere. "They thought they owned the Spirit because they made its words into true statements used exclusively by them at the mass."
In the car, idling in parking lot behind Pen Bay Hospital, Billy was speaking to Saskia and I about the New Zealand Book of Common Prayer. We'd been to morning service at St Peter's Episcopal Church in Rockland. (Megen took a ring, blessed by those attending, and said she did not want to be dragged, kicking and screaming, into heaven -- but wished to openly respond to the Divine Lover's invitation.) We sat in small, chilly room under bell tower where bell tolled in stately remembrance of what bells remember. They've been doing this Wednesday mornings since 9/11.
I thought (while driving route 1 east) of all the times I'd not said what Billy said while attending those true statements and feeling no sense of what was curiously absent. Spirit is not a hidden, legal, or dogmatic possession.
Lute Music
The Earth will be going on a long time
Before it finally freezes;
Men will be on it; they will take names,
Give their deeds reasons.
We will be here only
As chemical constituents --
A small franchise indeed.
Right now we have lives,
Corpuscles, Ambitions, Caresses,
Like everybody had once --
Here at the year's end, at the feast
Of birth, let us bring to each other
The gifts brought once west through deserts --
The precious metal of our mingled hair,
The frankincense of enraptured arms and legs,
The myrrh of desperate, invincible kisses --
Let us celebrate the daily
Recurrent nativity of love,
The endless epiphany of our fluent selves,
While the earth rolls away under us
Into unknown snows and summers,
Into untraveled spaces of the stars.
(Poem: "Lute Music" by Kenneth Rexroth from Sacramental Acts. Copper Canyon Press."
This is not to say that some victory is won in a denominational game of "Who's Got The Spirit?" (available for purchase in time for the holidays). Nor do I run from bath exclaiming "Eureka!" having solved an equation useful for moving the world. No, rather, it is a thought that has occurred many times while watching in silence the modes of meditative innerness and presentational exteriority in various churches over dozens of years.
The psalmist wrote:
But now, God, you have spurned us and confounded us,
so that we must go into battle without you.
You have put us to flight in the sight of our enemies,
and those who hate us plunder us at will.
You have handed us over like sheep sold for food,
you have scattered us among the nations.
You have sold your people for no money,
not even profiting by the exchange.
You have made us the laughing-stock of our neighbours,
mocked and derided by those who surround us.
The nations have made us a by-word,
the peoples toss their heads in scorn.
All the day I am ashamed,
I blush with shame
as they reproach me and revile me,
my enemies and my persecutors.
-- Psalm 43 (44), from Office of Readings, Vigils
Church and State might not be so separated after all. When politics and approved interpretation becomes the inserted text substituting for the open and living 'word' of What Is True, What Is Holiness Itself -- something is not only lost, but something unseemly, opaque, and divisive is erected to wall in and wall out.
Kenneth Rexroth said, "Man thrives where angels would die of ecstasy and where pigs would die of disgust." And "I've never understood why I'm [considered] a member of the avant-garde... I [just] try to say, as simply as I can, the simplest and most profound experiences of my life."
(from "The Writer's Almanac" for Thursday, December 22, 2005)
Kenneth Rexroth translated this Japanese poem:
LVI -
I have always known
That at last I would
Take this road, but yesterday
I did not know that it would be today.
{Tsui ni yuku
Michi to wa kanete
Kikishi kado
Kinoo kyoo to wa
Omowazarishi wo}
(poem by Ariwara no Narihira 825-880ce, translated by Kenneth Roxroth in One Hundred Poems from the Japanese),
It is, indeed, today.
Finally, Rumi:
Creatures are cups. The sciences and the arts and all branches of knowledge are inscriptions around the outside of the cups. When a cup shatters, the writing can no longer be read. The wine's the thing! The wine that's held in the mold of these physical cups. Drink the wine and know what lasts and what to love. The man who truly asks must be sure of two things: One, that he's mistaken in what he's doing or thinking now. And two, that there is a wisdom he doesn't know yet. Asking is half of knowing.
Everyone turns toward someone. Look for one scarred by the King's polo stick.
A man or a woman is said to be absorbed when the water has total control of him, and he no control of the water. A swimmer moves around willfully. An absorbed being has no will but the water's going. Any word or act is not really personal, but the way the water has of speaking or doing. As when you hear a voice coming out of a wall, and you know that it's not the wall talking, but someone inside, or perhaps someone outside echoing off the wall. Saints are like that. They've achieved the condition of a wall, or a door.
(-Translated by Coleman Barks with A.J. Arberry, From Enlightened Mind Edited by Stephen Mitchell)
Wish every wall a door.
Rumi is a door. "An absorbed being has no will but the water's going."
Christ-child is adorable. "For, this day, is born to you a Saviour, who is Christ the Lord..." (Luke 2)
Nativity longs to pass through.
This day.
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
Inmates in prison write final projects for Ethics class.
I read them in a solitude of watchfulness -- their words, their studies, their lives. As usual, at end of course, my quiet vow never to teach again.
One broken often.
Once you suddenly smash through,
and go on to make the leap beyond,
you will find that everything
around you and all that you do,
whether active or at rest,
is the scenery of the
fundamental ground,
the original Mind.
There will be not a hairsbreadth
of difference between you
and other things;
there will be no other thing.
- Daito (1282-1334)
As I read, I am in prison. I share a space with cellmate, a space too small by half for one person. I negotiate every passing inmate as one would a minefield. I have fifty years remaining in this space, everyday, with no hope of release. I cannot afford to be weak-minded, weak-bodied.
If there was faith to be had, what good would it be? No one understands. If anyone did, what would they understand?
For he knows how we are made,
he remembers we are nothing but dust.
Man -- his life is like grass,
he blossoms and withers like flowers of the field.
The wind blows and carries him away:
no trace of him remains.
-- from Psalm 102 (103)
I fade. Molecule by molecule, dropping away.
I'm told it is December, that it is solstice, that in a few days, Christmas.
Tonight, nothing other than inmates, prison, time without promise.
I read them in a solitude of watchfulness -- their words, their studies, their lives. As usual, at end of course, my quiet vow never to teach again.
One broken often.
Once you suddenly smash through,
and go on to make the leap beyond,
you will find that everything
around you and all that you do,
whether active or at rest,
is the scenery of the
fundamental ground,
the original Mind.
There will be not a hairsbreadth
of difference between you
and other things;
there will be no other thing.
- Daito (1282-1334)
As I read, I am in prison. I share a space with cellmate, a space too small by half for one person. I negotiate every passing inmate as one would a minefield. I have fifty years remaining in this space, everyday, with no hope of release. I cannot afford to be weak-minded, weak-bodied.
If there was faith to be had, what good would it be? No one understands. If anyone did, what would they understand?
For he knows how we are made,
he remembers we are nothing but dust.
Man -- his life is like grass,
he blossoms and withers like flowers of the field.
The wind blows and carries him away:
no trace of him remains.
-- from Psalm 102 (103)
I fade. Molecule by molecule, dropping away.
I'm told it is December, that it is solstice, that in a few days, Christmas.
Tonight, nothing other than inmates, prison, time without promise.
Tuesday, December 20, 2005
The president says he is protecting us by violating our laws.
It is hard to believe him.
The ultimate Truth is beyond words. Doctrines are words. They're not the Way. The Way is wordless. Words are illusions. They're no different from things that appear in your dreams at night, be they palaces or carriages, forested parks or lakeside pavilions.
- Bodhidharma (d. 533)
Something happened to Mr. Bush and Mr. Cheney. They believed their own stories about how important they were, how they could do anything they wanted and no congress, no court, no press, and certainly not the people would dare try to stop them.
I am lonely as a pelican in the wilderness,
as an owl in the ruins,
as a sparrow alone on a rooftop:
I do not sleep.
All day long my enemies taunt me,
they burn with anger and use my name as a curse.
-- from Psalm 101 (102)
It has happened. A corner has been turned. Messrs Bush and Cheney have shown themselves contemptuous of law and constitution. How did this happen? How long will it be allowed to continue?
The Christian world prepares to celebrate the birth of Jesus. In this oft self-designated Christian nation how did it come to be that murder, lies, deceit, torture, war, and bullying are committed and tolerated in the name of Jesus? Christians are relegated to being either cheerleaders or mute bystanders.
Refuge is needed. Protection becomes a paradoxical koan: To protect our way of life based on laws, is it right to break the law to prove paramount the rule of law? Are our leaders asking us to accept a lawless way of life?
We need a more profound liberation than that offered us by our protectors.
We pray Night Prayer:
Come quickly and hear me, O Lord,
for my spirit is weakening.
--from Psalm 142 (143)
Be calm and keep watch. The Devil, your enemy, is circling you like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour. Resist him, strong in faith.
1 Peter 5:8-9
Let us pray.
Of your kindness, Lord, dispel the darkness of this night, so that we your servants may go to sleep in peace and wake to the light of the new day, rejoicing in your name. Through Christ our Lord.
May the almighty Lord grant us a quiet night and a perfect end.
A M E N
It is hard to believe him.
The ultimate Truth is beyond words. Doctrines are words. They're not the Way. The Way is wordless. Words are illusions. They're no different from things that appear in your dreams at night, be they palaces or carriages, forested parks or lakeside pavilions.
- Bodhidharma (d. 533)
Something happened to Mr. Bush and Mr. Cheney. They believed their own stories about how important they were, how they could do anything they wanted and no congress, no court, no press, and certainly not the people would dare try to stop them.
I am lonely as a pelican in the wilderness,
as an owl in the ruins,
as a sparrow alone on a rooftop:
I do not sleep.
All day long my enemies taunt me,
they burn with anger and use my name as a curse.
-- from Psalm 101 (102)
It has happened. A corner has been turned. Messrs Bush and Cheney have shown themselves contemptuous of law and constitution. How did this happen? How long will it be allowed to continue?
The Christian world prepares to celebrate the birth of Jesus. In this oft self-designated Christian nation how did it come to be that murder, lies, deceit, torture, war, and bullying are committed and tolerated in the name of Jesus? Christians are relegated to being either cheerleaders or mute bystanders.
Refuge is needed. Protection becomes a paradoxical koan: To protect our way of life based on laws, is it right to break the law to prove paramount the rule of law? Are our leaders asking us to accept a lawless way of life?
We need a more profound liberation than that offered us by our protectors.
We pray Night Prayer:
Come quickly and hear me, O Lord,
for my spirit is weakening.
--from Psalm 142 (143)
Be calm and keep watch. The Devil, your enemy, is circling you like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour. Resist him, strong in faith.
1 Peter 5:8-9
Let us pray.
Of your kindness, Lord, dispel the darkness of this night, so that we your servants may go to sleep in peace and wake to the light of the new day, rejoicing in your name. Through Christ our Lord.
May the almighty Lord grant us a quiet night and a perfect end.
A M E N
Monday, December 19, 2005
A young Jewish girl is about to give birth. Her mind is clear. She knows nothing other than what is to be is coming to be.
If you misunderstand your mind,
you are an ordinary person;
if you realize your mind,
you are a sage.
There is no difference at all
whether man, woman, old,
young, wise, foolish, human,
animal, whatever.
Thus, in the Lotus of Truth assembly,
was it not the eight year old
Naga girl who went directly
south to the undefiled world Amala,
sat on a jewel lotus flower,
and realized universal complete enlightenment.
- Jakushitusu Genko (1290-1367)
Our stories and myths are thresholds across which we step to visit awhile a place beyond space beyond time beyond cause and effect.
Some say drop stories, and they have a good point of view. Some say drop myths, and they, too, offer good advice. Still, these thresholds are invitations bypassing points of view and advice worth heeding. The danger is we will remember the stories and forget the present moment. The difficulty is we might entertain the myth but ignore the current reality longing to emerge with our clear and present attention.
For who else is for me, in heaven?
On earth, I want nothing when I am with you.
My flesh and heart are failing,
but it is God that I love:
God is my portion for ever.
-- from Psalm 72 (73)
Portion suggests part of a whole, or part separated from a whole. If God is my portion, then what is the whole of it?
The Jewish girl nears us in story and myth.
In her nearing we see that the question is the answer.
What is -- is -- the whole of it.
Birthing isn't portion. Birthing infuses what is throughout the whole.
Step carefully the threshold.
Pass through with care.
If you misunderstand your mind,
you are an ordinary person;
if you realize your mind,
you are a sage.
There is no difference at all
whether man, woman, old,
young, wise, foolish, human,
animal, whatever.
Thus, in the Lotus of Truth assembly,
was it not the eight year old
Naga girl who went directly
south to the undefiled world Amala,
sat on a jewel lotus flower,
and realized universal complete enlightenment.
- Jakushitusu Genko (1290-1367)
Our stories and myths are thresholds across which we step to visit awhile a place beyond space beyond time beyond cause and effect.
Some say drop stories, and they have a good point of view. Some say drop myths, and they, too, offer good advice. Still, these thresholds are invitations bypassing points of view and advice worth heeding. The danger is we will remember the stories and forget the present moment. The difficulty is we might entertain the myth but ignore the current reality longing to emerge with our clear and present attention.
For who else is for me, in heaven?
On earth, I want nothing when I am with you.
My flesh and heart are failing,
but it is God that I love:
God is my portion for ever.
-- from Psalm 72 (73)
Portion suggests part of a whole, or part separated from a whole. If God is my portion, then what is the whole of it?
The Jewish girl nears us in story and myth.
In her nearing we see that the question is the answer.
What is -- is -- the whole of it.
Birthing isn't portion. Birthing infuses what is throughout the whole.
Step carefully the threshold.
Pass through with care.
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