journey something


Planting for Rest

Heard the quiet wisdom whispering:

“I will give you rest.”

You are going to give me rest?

Well, what do I have to do to get it?

How much does it cost?

Will I have to use my PTO?

How long will it take?

Is there a book I could purchase on the subject?

The other day I had a really peaceful nap. Is that what you’re referring to?

I get pretty relaxed when I go to the beach!

But I’m on my way home and I’ve just got time for a quick drive through

Or a drive by

Whatever’s fastest

Just want to get it done.

Okay I’ll be serious

Gotta make this happen

Booked a weekend retreat at the trendy northwoods spa.

Now that felt good! For a while…

Came home and life clenched its fists with a one-two punch to the gut

Email box: full.

Voicemails: 11.

Even missed my sister’s birthday.

Heard the quiet wisdom whispering “cultivation-

Plant it here, plant it there and water it some.”

So I stopped. I took a breath.

I planted it.

Gave it a drink, some light and some time.

That’s all a flower would ask for, and it’s really all that it needs.



An Open Poem to Dick Chaney
August 30, 2009, 5:59 am
Filed under: My poetry | Tags: , , ,

(in reaction to this story).

 

Have you ever once in your life

Slept alone in the emptiness of the woods?

Have you awaken in terror

Only to behold a mountain on midnight’s horizon?

Have you sensed in your sleep

The black shadow escaped from the underworld?

Have you ever sat long enough

To consider the day of your death and how you will die?

 

In one moment, you will meet the faces behind your game of Risk

Are you not terrified to look back on this world from the next

And feel the haunting remorse?

 

You talk of terrorism and pre-emptive war

Like its chess in the park

You use 9/11 to justify your every move, your every word

But the dead of New York are begging you to holster your speech

Baghdad’s massacred are asking you to burry your violent rhetoric

The lives of our children are desperate for a new vision

 

And let’s be honest, your words

Are as bald-faced as the top of your head

“Enhanced interrogation” is how you dress up torture

For a Western fundraiser

I know what enhanced interrogation is

And so does your mother

And so does God

Anyone can see, this world isn’t getting any safer while

You justify violence against our browner brothers

With no real knowledge of darkness, danger, or evil

 

See, you’ve spent too many nights in your safe little

Seely posterpedic sleep number feather top

Bassinette

Delilah trims the hedges of your hairline

And gives your beard a warm shave every time you slumber

Your kind were born into the razors and sheers

 

And make no mistake, the afterlife is waiting

Waiting to grab you as you are

Waiting like a maze

And you will beg for a cup of cool water to touch your tongue
For a moment of relief from torturing yourself with the regret of your life

But that water was used for waterboarding,

And there won’t be a drop left for you

 

So go back to your mountain range in the great heart of Wyoming

Walk into the rocky forest until you have lost your strength

Take off your cowboy hat

Sit in that place and draw yourself inside a circle with a stick in the sand

Look your mountain straight in the eye

Fix your gaze and don’t turn away

Ask her where you are from and where you are going

Beg to understand the nature of your breath

Leave the circle only when all fear has left you

Then you will know wisdom,

Then you may find grace, maybe for you.



On Peacemaking

We need not label ourselves pacifists, but peacemaking is not something optional for Christians. A major element of Christ’s teaching his call to become peacemakers. They are among the blessed and are witnesses to the Kingdom of God. To be a peacemaker, Christ says, is to be a child of God. In the years of Christ’s life described in the Gospel, one of the most notable aspects is that he killed no one but healed many. He is not a warrior king. Caesar rides a horse while Christ enters Jerusalem on the back of a donkey. Even when he clears the Temple of people who have made a place of worship into a place of commerce, he does so using nothing more than a whip of cords, not a weapon that can cause injuries; the only life endangered by his action was his own. His final instruction to Peter before his crucifixion is, “Put away your sword, for whoever lives by the sword will die by the sword.” Saying that, he healed the wound Peter had inflicted on one of the men arresting Jesus. On the cross, far from calling down his Father’s vengeance on those who participated in his execution, Jesus appeals for mercy: “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they are doing.” Again and again, throughout is earthly life Christ gives his followers a witness of peace.

The Orthodox Peace Fellowship



Dispatches from the Future
July 17, 2009, 10:14 am
Filed under: Bourgeois | Tags: , , ,

The pampered American youth of bourgeois classes came to believe that their mere attendance at rallies and the symbolic choices they made between factions in the election booths constituted a movement–even a sort of revolution. Sincere though their intentions were, they lacked the historical knowledge of the sustained sacrifices that revolutionary struggle entails. They could not see that their efforts had brought “change” without any real political movement behind it, and therefor no true change at all.

Harper’s Magazine, June 2009, 34. Excerpted from The Dragon Rising, Vol. 1 of Li Xian’s The Chinese Century, HarperChina. Translated from the Chinese by Peter Moore.



Spirituality of Beer

St. Brigid’s Prayer

I’d like to give a lake of beer to God.    
I’d love the Heavenly    
Host to be tippling there  
For all eternity.   

I’d love the men of Heaven to live with me,    
To dance and sing.  
If they wanted, I’d put at their disposal  
Vats of suffering.   

White cups of love I’d give them,    
With a heart and a half;  
Sweet pitchers of mercy I’d offer  
To every man.   

I’d make Heaven a cheerful spot,  
Because the happy heart is true.  
I’d make the men contented for their own sake  
I’d like Jesus to be there too.   

I’d like the people of heaven to gather  
From all the parishes around,  
I’d give a special welcome to the women,  
The three Marys of great renown.   

I’d sit with the men, the women of God  
There by the lake of beer  
We’d be drinking good health forever  
And every drop would be a prayer.

 

(H/T: Carl Nordgren)



Trinity Prayer

God For Us, we call You Father,

God Alongside Us, we call You Jesus,

God Within Us, we call You Holy Spirit.

 

You are the Eternal Mystery

That enables, enfolds, and enlivens all things,

Even us, and even me.

 

Every name falls short of your

Goodness and Greatness.

 

We can only see who You are in what is.

We ask for such perfect seeing.

 

As it was in the begining, is now,

and ever shall be. Amen.

 



A Common Treasury for All

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HOBT’s MayDay Parade, Ceremony, and Festival has always been rooted in two important traditional celebrations—the celebration of the “GREEN ROOT” of Earth’s green energy rising in Spring, and the “RED ROOT” of human work energy rising from mind, heart and hand.

Our theme this year celebrates the merging of the red and green energies of the world. We cheer on the great merging of the human social justice movements with the environmental movements to remember humans as responsible relatives of the earth.

As we experience the fall of our economic systems built on debt, consumer waste, the theft and sickening of earth resources, we gather to rebuild an economic system that protects and sustains our Earth as a “Common Treasury for All.”

In the Heart of the Beast Theater on their upcoming annual MayDay celebrations.



On Earth Day: Song in a Year of Catastrophe

I began to be followed by a voice saying:

“It can’t last. It can’t last.

Harden yourself. Harden yourself.

Be ready. Be ready.”

 

“Go look under the leaves,”

it said, “for what is living there

is long dead in your tongue.”

And it said, “Put your hands

Into the earth. Live close

To the ground. Learn the darkness.

Gather round you all

The things that you love, name

Their names, prepare

To lose them. It will be

As if all you know were turned

Around within your body.”

 

And I went and put my hands

Into the ground, and they took root

And grew into a season’s harvest.

I looked behind the veil

Of the leaves, and heard voices

That I knew had been dead

In my tongue years before my birth.

I learned the dark.

 

And still the voice stayed with me.

Waking in the early mornings,

I could hear it, like a bird

Bemused among the leaves,

A mockingbird idly singing

In the autumn of catastrophe:

 

“Be ready. Be ready.

Harden yourself. Harden yourself.”

 

And I hear the sound

Of a great engine pounding

In the air, and a voice asking:

“Change or slavery?

Hardship or slavery?”

And voices answering:

“Slavery! Slavery!”

And I was afraid, loving

What I knew would be lost.

 

Then the voice following me said:

“You have not yet come close enough.

Come nearer the ground. Learn

From the woodcock in the woods

Whose feathering is a ritual

Of fallen leaves,

And from the nesting quail

Whose speckling her hard to see

In the long grass.

Study the coat of the mole.

For the farmer shall wear

The furrows and greenery

Of his fields, and bear

The long standing of the woods.”

 

And I asked: “You mean death then?”

“Yes,” the voice said. “Die

into what the earth requires of you.”

I let go all holds then, and sank

Like a hopeless swimmer into the earth,

And at last came fully into the ease

And the joy of that place,

All my lost ones returning.

Wendell Berry, The Selected Poems of (New York: Counterpoint) 74.



Parable as Threshold

Dave Johnson knocked it out of the park last Sunday as he began a new teaching series on the Parables of Jesus. He talked about the power of a parable to “knock us off our center and create sacred space” for introspection and transformation. Jesus’ parables–always subversive and challenging were meant to unmask the world around us and give us new eyes to see. Speaking of the Parable of the Good Samaritan, Dave noted that “it would be as if he told a story where all of us [speaking to a conservative congregation] were the bad guys and a Hindu or a Muslim were the good guys”. 

Furthermore, Dave pointed out that Jesus’ use of parable helps us embrace an “imperfect spirituality.” One where we see our failures, our shortcomings, and imperfections as the very path that will lead us to God. Quoting the Psalmist, “the stone that the builder rejected has become the cornerstone.”

It’s a sermon that will turn you upside down, and you can stream it online here.



The Recession Must Go On

I went to the bakery on

The wealthy side of town

The one where they put the french onion soup

In a sexy sourdough bread bowl

 

On my way out the door I saw a lady friend

Who had eaten her soup

But left the bowl made of bread

She then threw the whole

Bread bowl

Into the garbage

 

She threw the whole bread bowl into the garbage!

Sixty-two grams of carbohydrates

Three hundred and thirty two calories

Ten grams of protein

With a one way ticket to Gary, Indiana

And that is when I knew

The recession must continue

 

As long as we eat our soup out of a bowl made of bread

Only because its looks nice and is a bit trendy

As long as we possess the lack of conviction which allows us

To dump precious wheat which had been grown by the earth

Harvested by the farmer

Milled by the river

And kneaded by the baker

As long as we loose sight of those who hunger

While we feed our bread to our beloved ravenous dumpsters

The recession must go on

 

So lay your bed in the gutter, lady friend

Put your ear to the sewer

And learn the wisdom of the homeless man

Who has mastered contentment, simplicity, thrift, and stewardship

Who understands the law of abundance

And shares everything he has with others

Somehow trusting God to get him through each hour of the day

While he feasts on used sourdough bread bowls

Consuming our sin before it hits the garbage dump for good

 

Gods grace to those suffer in a recession

For those who are missing their meals

And forced from their homes

Gods grace to those who think they suffer in a recession

For those who are missing their double shot mocha lattes

And forced from their second-home high rise condos

And may each of us look the recession in the eye

And ask the dear friend, “What have you to teach me?”

 

 

*Bread bowl nutrition information courtesy of The Daily Plate.



He’s My Spiritual Son

An incredible Easter story, Mary Johnson shares of the experience of losing her son to murder and what it has meant forgive the man who took her son’s life. 

“I have claimed him as my spiritual son,” she said. “It’s not pardoning what he did, and it’s not reconciliation. It’s true forgiveness.”



On Easter Sunday: “Whether in Pasture or Cave”

God’s love is the mountain prairie pasture at the break of spring

Once again the cold winds and winter storms

Gave way to the kingdom of brother sun

All who passively retreated in submission to the seasons

Have returned

The remnant of life sprung up from their protective earthen hideaways

The world is new for us to explore

Once again we overcame the cold

The sprint of winter was no match for our sluggish peaceful resistance

Love called us back into the open

 

The open field is fresh and green

Blanketed by the morning dew

The warmth of the sun is trapped in my wool

I hold it tight, never to let it go

I will carry this warmth back to the caves like a lantern

And the winter wind will not come as close, violent as it may be

God’s faithfulness is the bulwark of the cold wet cave, deep in the earth

 

And the warmth, it fills me and gives me sanctuary

I lay in the bed of the prairie

Present to the goodness and love

That have somehow, someway found me again

I take in the panorama with respect for paradox

Seeing both valley and mountain peak

Knowing that I have everything; whether in pasture or cave



Everyone Poops
April 7, 2009, 9:56 am
Filed under: 18665473, fake movies | Tags:

Spirituality aside today (I think), be sure to watch this fake movie trailer as it pokes a bit of fun at Where the Wild Things Are and the “quirky Indie film genre”. Bahahaha! I found myself almost inspired, as well as a bit teary eyed.

(H/T: Chris Enstad’s Facebook and Buzzfeed)



28 Days on Facebook

Our connection to each other opened and closed with our laptops. Maybe that means that though we were Friends, we were never really friends. I may have to learn to become friends with the guy next door, even if he doesn’t give out Halloween candy.

For those following our lively conversation about the pitfalls of Facebook, check out this thought provoking article by Paul Scott. He gives his readers a glimpse of his short-lived life online, why he’s quit, and what he learned in the process. Highly recommendable. Scott reflects futher:

And not to be a downer, but with Facebook about to become our chosen portal through which the marketplace defines and communicates to us as consumers and ultimately citizens, that metaphor could only darken. We could all end up feeling like cellmates passing each other notes through a crack in the prison wall. If we keep retreating to more screen time as an answer to our disconnectedness, and if the civic glue of commerce keeps moving toward organizing us by our virtual networks, Facebook is at risk of becoming little more than a community of the enslaved. And I don’t mean that in a good way.

Minneapolis Star Tribune, April 4 2009.



On Palm Sunday: The Laws of Love

I wrote this on Ash Wednesday and thought it would be appropriate to wait until today to post. Traditionally the palm branches are burned after Palm Sunday and the ashes are saved and used in the following year’s Ash Wednesday Service. Part of this poem explores this connection.

I’ll also be posting Holy Week poetry on Good Friday and Easter Sunday. Blessings and peace as we journey through this time.

ashwednesday12

“The Laws of Love”

The dust of this palm branch is the child of the child

Of the child of the mother

Who welcomed the Redeemer into Jerusalem for the great work of the restoration of all things

Of my parents’ parents’ grandparents’ parents

The seed of the Blessed Mother gave itself to the wind

After that holy day and rooted itself into the work of love for eternity

 

As she waved that day

She caught a scent of the one who shared a kind of love

That would be passed on from friend to friend

To child and child’s child for every generation since

Until it came to my mother, my father

Who gifted that love to me

A love which makes me live today

A love which I will pass to my children

A love which has no end

 

It was a precious, spectacular moment

As she waved and welcomed and praised the Redeemer, imploring ‘Hosanna!’

This is a precious spectacular moment

As we join in the work of restoration

Of our lives, our world, and our children’s world

As we give ourselves to the wind

Rehearsing the words of our Redeemer

Trusting the laws of love, now and forever

 

 



Economic Illusions

palmer_hsCheck out what Parker Palmer has to say in his latest interview with Bill Moyers. Parker talks about coming to terms with his “illusions about America’s essential goodness as an economic system.” Speaking of a new awakening in the United States he also observes that ”what’s happening now is a little bit like what’s often been said about — what would happen to war if Congress members had to send their kids first or the administration had to send their kids first. And that is that we would declare and fight fewer wars.” Parker goes on to say that “our capacity to deny reality is huge. And I think that we don’t want to know what we really know because if we did, we’d have to change our lives. And now we have to change our lives because the whole thing is crashing down around our head.”



Thresholds

April seems like the absolute best time of the year to explore the idea of “threshold”. Outside we find nature on the brink of spring, an ancient ritual of new beginning. Far from coincidence we also find ourselves on the cusp of Holy Week, and the celebration of Easter– reminding ourselves of the spiritual elements of suffering, death, and resurrection. Indeed, it is a profound season and it brings definition to our own interior journey. It is an excellent reminder for me to slow down, pay attention, and notice God’s workings. John O’Donohue summarizes it well:

Like spring secretly at work within the heart of winter, below the surface of our lives huge changes are in fermentation. We never suspect a thing. Then when the grip of some long-enduring winter mentality begins to loosen, we find ourselves vulnerable to a flourish of possibility and we are suddenly negotiating the challenge of a threshold.

At any time you can ask yourself: At which threshold am I now standing? At this time in my life, what am I leaving? Where am I about to enter? What is preventing me from crossing my next threshold? What gift would enable me to do it? A threshold is not a simple boundary; it is a frontier that divides two different territories, rhythms, and atmospheres. Indeed, it is a lovely testimony to the fullness and integrity of an experience or a stage of life that it intensifies toward the end into a real frontier that cannot be crossed without the heart being passionately engaged and woken up. At this threshold a great complexity of emotion comes alive: confusion, fear, excitement, sadness, hope. This is one of the reasons such vital crossings were always clothed in ritual. It is wise in your own life to be able to recognize and acknowledge the key thresholds; to take your time; to feel all the varieties of presence that accrue there; to listen inward with complete attention until you hear the inner voice calling you forward. The time has come to cross. 

To Bless the Space Between Us (New York: Double Day Publishing) 48.



Teaching Jesus How To Play

monopoly-man

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here’s two thousand dollars, just for pretend

And here are the dice for us to roll

You’ve got to get this into your head

It’s simple business you see

Just flick your wrist and roll your dice

Buy it up and knock ‘em down

With the luck of a buck and a sinister eye

I was the first to land on Pennsylvania Avenue

I was given two thousand dollars you see, and this was just business

You were the last to land on Pennsylvania and I own the whole block

Sorry if that ends your game of monopoly

Maybe you should go back to selling home made furniture 

Since you just went bankrupt in a free society

Hey, it was your choice to play the game

It wasn’t my fault that you landed on Go Directly To Jail

Three times and couldn’t roll doubles to save your life

Now your two thousand is gone and mine has doubled

Free Market’s a bitch, isn’t it?

Blessed are the Capitalists my son

Quick, lets reset the board and play it again

You’ve got to get this into your head

It’s simple business you see

Just flick your wrist and roll your dice

Buy it up and knock ‘em down



Integrating Evolution and Spirituality

180px-darwin_fish_rof

Have you seen this icon on a bumper sticker lately? In the past, I found it to be totally offensive. I saw it as a desecration of an ancient Christian symbol and the breastplate for the “liberal agenda”. I’ve since changed most of these viewpoints and interestingly enough, Christians may be on the way to embracing this symbol as a whole. Convincing scientific evidence, logic, and a holistic approach to Biblical interpretation have been shedding new light on the way we understand the Theory of Evolution as people of faith.

Lately I’ve began to study those who have integrated Evolution into their spirituality. Growing up with a strict and literal seven day creation approach, this has been a challenging task for me. A few weeks ago, I heard Fr. Thomas Keating speak and he was incredibly fluent on the topic. He talked about how consciousness is a new thing in the mammal species, and since thought is seen as light or a spark of the divine in spiritual/philosophical terms, evolution can be seen as one long process which is bringing creation closer and closer to divinity. Anyhow, it’s a challenging paradigm to shift so if anyone knows of any solid resources on the subject, please let me know.



“Long live Gravity!”

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JS favorite Wendell Berry is having some of his poems put on stage! Here’s the story and below is an excerpt from the poem, Some Further Words. Berry’s critique of western progress is staggering. As always, he procures incredible insight with a sort of blunt wisdom that reaches beyond rhetoric and our flimsy presuppositions. 

The world is babbled to pieces after
the divorce of things from their names.
Ceaseless preparation for war
is not peace. Health is not procured
by sale of medication, or purity
by the addition of poison. Science
at the bidding of the corporations
is knowledge reduced to merchandise;
it is a whoredom of the mind,
and so is the art that calls this “progress.”
So is the cowardice that calls it “inevitable.”

 Written decades ago, the poem is incredibly poignant, mystical, and even prophetic:

When I hear the stock market has fallen, 
I say, “Long live gravity! Long live 
stupidity, error and greed in the palaces 
of fantasy capitalism!” I think 
an economy should be based on thrift, 
on taking care of things, not on theft, 
usury, seduction, waste, and ruin. 
My purpose is a language that can make us whole, 
Though mortal, ignorant, and small. 
The world is whole beyond human knowing.

(Painting by Robert Shetterly)