Idée d’jour

Seen on t-shirt:
Work hard
Play hard
Do good

Idée d’jour

I care not much for a man's religion whose dog and cat are not the better for it.
— Abraham Lincoln

A Boy and his cat

Also known as "DJ on my shoulders"

Idée d’jour

There are few things in life more heartwarming than to be welcomed by a cat.
— Tay Hohoff

Idée d’jour

The true miracle is not walking on water or walking in air, but simply walking on this earth.
— Thich Nhat Hanh

Zorba the Buddha

Recently finished reading an interview with Tom Robbins by Mara Altman. She asked him if there was anyone in his life he considered a mentor. "No one living," he said; then, went on:

Oh, maybe Leonard Cohen. Leonard Cohen is my hero. He’s like Zorba the Buddha. Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh, the Indian guru ... who later changed his name to Osho, he had this notion of a character called Zorba the Buddha who — we’ll say a man, but it could be a woman too — who was contemplative, led a serene spiritual life, meditated a lot, was a nonviolent, placid person who lived in the spirit but who also knew how to work and make money, knew how to utilize the Internet, knew how much to tip a maître d’ in a Paris nightclub, who was of the world and enjoyed the world and all of its sensual pleasures in terms of food, sex, drink, color, art, but also at the same time was deeply spiritual. And I’ve kind of superimposed that Zorba the Buddha figure onto Leonard Cohen, perhaps unfairly, but he strikes me as someone who is close to that figure. I like the fact that he meditates, that he has spent time alone — a lot of it in anguish in a Buddhist monastery — that he is so adept with language and loves women and wears beautiful Armani suits and will sit and sip wine at a sidewalk café with beautiful girls and yet be able to have this rich inner life, not just creatively but also spiritually.

I remember Dr. Omed once telling me I needed to learn how to be in the world, but not of it. I imagine he meant something like this. Combining, as it were, the exuberance of Kazantzakis' Zorba with the supposed serenity of a Zen master.

Whether Leonard Cohen is that Zen master is another question. He's on the record of saying his interest in Zen was primarily motivated by the teacher, though he's also expressed an admiration for the strict discipline. I imagine he would be amused by Robbins' description, perhaps even flattered. He'd likely find it as amusing as his image as a lady's man.

For myself, it's my hope to live the words I pray. It's a daily struggle to practice the peace I seek. To find the joy in life, even in the darkness. I don't know that I have Zorba's lust for life, or the Zen master's discipline. I'm decidedly no lady's man, nor fashion plate. I'm a middle class guy, with no greater American dream than keeping my head above water while managing my consumer debt. I'm dazzled by things, and tempted by what they promise. I'm easily cut by the side-ways glance, or snide tone. I'm too nervous, too fearful, to wear the world as a loose garment.

Leonard wrote: “I practiced on my sainthood.” I think I know what he meant. My struggle and striving to live with integrity are that practice. It's not sainthood I seek, exactly: it's a spirit that is calm.

I'm no saint. I'm no Zorba. I'm certainly not Zen Master Cohen. I'm only Jac. I might as well begin with a song.

Idée d’jour

If you are not allowed to laugh in heaven, I do not want to go there.
— Martin Luther

Idée d’jour

Who thinks that they can kill time without injuring eternity?
— Henry David Thoreau

Jonquils wake late

Jonquils wake late
from a storm
of helvetica dreams

Thunder from the porch
a wandering wasp
diving the blossoms

Sun blinks behind
morse code clouds
over coffee streets

Response to In hepatica time, by Dave Bonta

Idée d’jour

Heaven is under our feet as well as over our heads
— Henry David Thoreau

Krista Tippett on Civility

The following are notes from a presentation given by Krista Tippett, the host of "On Being", on April 8, 2014, at the Mayflower Congregational Church in Oklahoma City, OK. These notes are a reflection of what impressed me in her presentation, and are not expected to be an accurate representation of what she said.

We need to make a distinction between public life and political life. The word “civility” is inadequate, for it seems too demure, prim and proper; but it's better than “tolerance,” the word much in favor from the 60s. Tolerance is passive; what is needed is an active engagement with, and acceptance of, our fellow terrestrial travelers.

We find the big questions of the 20^th century are being re-imagined for the 21^st century; e.g., marriage, beginning of life, etc.

This requires the reformation of all institutions

The most needed innovation is to recognize how our individual vulnerability is linked with others on the planet (all beings, all creation)

Anxiety about change in public life looks like anger (especially via "news" media) rather than fear.

The next needed innovation is to be conversational entrepreneurs; to see conversation as means to seek shared values rather than means to persuade, to win. This will plant seeds of the civil society we long for.

FOUR ENCOURAGEMENTS

• Words Matter
  • Share how we understand ourselves & perceive how others move through the world
  • Navigate pluralistic society through acceptance of diff rather than tolerance
  • Which is too cerebral
  • Never asked to be engaged or be curious about the Other
  • Find shimmering words to share the essence of ourselves
  • "Are we not of interest to each other"
  • Ground virtues rather than ground rules
• Questions
  • Elicit answers in their likeness
  • Ideal is to avoid yes or no, or leading questions
  • Remember, it's hard to resist a generous question, which invites dignity & honor
  • Seek the animating question, rather than simplistic. Seek what lies beneath.
  • Good question does not seek common ground or resolution
    • Pressure of agreement works against understanding each other
  • Questions are powerful within themselves — don't worry about the answers
• Honor difficulty of being human — starting small, as beginners
  • Which reminded me of the book Always We Begin Again, on Benedictine Practice
  • Change evolves slowly in the human heart
  • Conversation is a tool to make human connection (not change hearts and minds)
  • Be hospitable
  • We need critical yeast; that is, an unlikely combination of people
  • The radar (news media) is broken — if it ever existed
    • Change from public service to one more part of profit-seeking industry
• Develop eyes to see and ears to hear; for example
  • Civil rights movement sought to create a beloved humanity
  • We are in the midst of a long-term project; all of us are involved
  • We can be sources of social healing; again, to plant seeds of a civil society
  • Long term, seek to transform conflict rather than resolve it
    • If not transformed, the conflict will go underground (like repressed emotion) and rise again
    • However, transformation is a long term project; a minimum of 10 years
  • We are called to the inner work of integrity
  • Because, in the growing global community, it's about the other. Or, more practically, the person across town
  • In the words of Civil Rights leader and Congressman John Lewis, “When you pray, move your feet”

Peace to those who mourn

Went to a funeral for a friend's son yesterday. He died a week ago, at a relatively young 35. I knew him only as a small boy; there's a chunk of his life unknown to me. Just hints from the slide show displayed on the church wall, and comments from the minister.

I went as a support to his mother, who I haven't seen in almost 30 years. She looks much the same; I have less hair.

As I held her after the funeral, she kept saying how kind I was to drive 30 minutes south to attend the funeral. Don't know if it was kind; it was the right thing to do.

Saw a few old poetry friends at the ceremony. Somehow, seeing those people, and seeing the photos of the young boy I briefly knew, conjured ghosts of a sort. I felt haunted and on edge the rest of the day. There are echoes this morning.

Pray for Blake; pray for his father, currently in a far distant land and unable to be at the service. Pray peace to Lissa, the mother who has survived her only son.

Idée d’jour

I do not feel obliged to believe that the same God who has endowed us with sense, reason, and intellect has intended us to forgo their use.
— Galileo Galilei

Idée d’jour

Imagination is the key to my lyrics. The rest is painted with a little science fiction.
— Jimi Hendrix

Finger Labyrinth

I have a finger labyrinth
which I trace
from time to time
circling into the darkness
into the cave
where ego dwells
circling circling
a cosmos collapsing
into the darkness
where I am empty

I'm not here
but I'm not gone

I have Celtic prayer beads
upon which I count the weeks
a circle of stones
I trace the perimeter
I pray the center
I bless the days
the days bless me

I'm not gone
but I'm not here

I trace my return
from the labyrinth's dark center
I count the courses
the expanding universe
circling stars
greeted here by Whitman
embracing dark & light
greeted here by the angel
with fiery sword
welcomed to new light

What Was Said

What the turnstile said
to the whirlwind
under the snow-full moon

where the pilgrim's eyes
were opened
Jacob's well

Standing stone
infinite circle
where water overflows

Sunset a door
a thin line
on the horizon

Dreams beyond the beyond
an infinite circle
in the pilgrim's eyes

A thin skyline
a bottomless well
echoing whirlwind

Idée d’jour

An ounce of mother is worth a pound of clergy.
— Spanish proverb

Each can do an equal amount of good, or ill.

Finding Humility After a Sacred Walk

St. Jerome, that great holy crank, is often pictured with a lion. The Desert Fathers welcomed cats to their loosely aligned communities. It's likely the cat was useful for reducing vermin, but I think those felines great and small were also prized for another reason: humility. A cat teaches its human companion humility better than any other creature I know.

Living in community can also be humbling. If done with honesty, clear self-assessment, and integrity, it can be a spiritual discipline. Always I find myself balancing my needs against those of others. The goal, on the sacred path, is to put the needs of others first. But this is balanced by recognizing my own needs. For example, my need for alone time with God — just as Jesus would often step away for private prayer.

As an introvert, it's quite challenging to strike that balance. I'm most comfortable alone, with my own thoughts. The delusion of my perceptions, the delusion of self.

This is part of what I brought with me when I went to walk the labyrinth last Saturday at a Quiet Day at St. Paul's.

I had actually been on the fence as to whether to participate. I had, after all, walked the Healing Path just a few months ago. The deciding factor came on Ash Wednesday. No acolytes had been scheduled for the 7:00 p.m. service, so the Eucharistic Ministers were pressed into service. When I arrived — about 10 minutes before service — I was informed that I had been volunteered to carry the Gospel book.

I don't think I've ever carried the Gospel before; if I have, it was when I was a teenager, over forty years ago. Carrying the Gospel involves bearing it in procession — both at the beginning & end of the service — and holding it for the deacon as s/he reads from it. The Gospel book used at St. Paul's Cathedral is oversized — about as big as the average coffee-table book — and bound by an engraved metal cover. It's surprisingly heavy.

The Gospel expresses an ideal of human living. The life story of Jesus is a plumb line, against which the faithful measure their own manner of living. It calls the listener to judgment. This is why, in our faith tradition, we stand when the Gospel is read.

A hymn is traditionally sung as the Gospel is brought into the midst of the congregation. The crucifix and a pair of torches proceed the deacon and Gospel. The book is presented to the deacon, who finds her place then hands the book back to the acolyte. The acolyte holds the book as the hymn is sung. On this occasion, the hymn seemed especially long, at least six verses.

I stood there, facing the deacon, as the Book grew increasingly heavy. And I was struck by what an honor it is to carry this particular book. How I so often fall short of the ideal, yet am still worthy to hold and carry it in religious ceremony. It was a prayerful moment.

That feeling of prayer was a thin place; a moment when I was aware of the divine. I longed to return to that place, and knew the labyrinth was a way to enter a similar thin place.

I was one of the last ones to enter the labyrinth Saturday morning. I was taking my time. I was praying an Anglican rosary, using a prayer a friend had shared on Facebook: “Keep darkness out, keep light within; keep fear without, keep peace within; keep hatred without, keep love within.” I was two-thirds through the rosary when I noticed I was among the last pilgrims, and decided to complete the rosary as I walked the labyrinth's circuits.

As I've said before, one often meets the companions one needs on the Path. On this day, the first person I met was John, a Viet Nam vet who, I believe, suffers from PTSD. I stepped to one side so he could pass; we bowed to each other as he walked by: “The sacred in me recognizes the sacred in you,” to paraphrase the Hindu prayer.

This stepping to one side to let others pass was something I frequently did that day, mostly as a courtesy. It was also a way to honor my sense of personal space — to allow a bit of breathing room between my body and all those other bodies. The lanes were narrow, and only once did I turn to one side to walk the same circuit as another person — who was walking the opposite direction.

In time, I was the last person in the labyrinth. In time, most of the other pilgrims were heading downstairs for lunch. There were three facilitators walking at the edges of the labyrinth to support our prayer with their own. In time, I came to believe people were waiting for me – possibly my fellow pilgrims, certainly those three facilitators. There was also the possibility I'd be late for lunch, and would not know where it was being served. I was very near the entrance; no more than two or three circuits to go. I was at point where I could easily step over one border and enter the lane leading out.

So I did. I walked back to my chair, quickly jotted down a few notes, and put my shoes back on. I started to join the others, but as I walked down the stairs, I was aware the noise was painful. I had to admit I needed a few more minutes to transition from the sacred to the mundane.

I didn't think much one way or the other about my actions. I wasn't consciously thinking, “Man, I'm a really spiritual person. I've spent all this time in prayer, and I've been so considerate of my fellow pilgrims!”

I suppose that element of pride was there though, lurking in my subconscious.

I drove straight from church to the grocery store. It didn't take long to collect and purchase my paltry supplies — no more than 15-20 minutes. Returned to the car, put the bag in the trunk, started the car.

I couldn't pull out because another car was directly behind me. The driver, a woman with a young child, was waiting for a car on the opposite side to pull out. I wasn't really feeling impatient. I was listening to This American Life as my car ran, and was relatively content. I looked in the rear-view every so often to see if the woman had moved yet.

Our interaction became a silent movie, with each of us projecting dark voices (I suppose) onto the other. At some point the woman saw my eyes reflected in my rearview. I didn't think I was looking that often, but perhaps she thought I was getting impatient. She might have in my place, as I had no way of leaving (there was a car parked in front of me).

I don't know why she didn't pull back so I could exit; then she could have pulled into my former parking space. There was no way to communicate that option.

I was aware of her looking back at me, noticing my eyes in the rear view. I tried to think of a way to communicate I was in no hurry. So I drummed my fingers. Mistake — she read that as greater impatience. I could see her lips move; she was gesticulating to the space she'd been waiting for. Her lips moved some more.

I can't read lips, and that's the point I which I did become impatient. I unbuckled my belt and left the car, hoping we could speak like adults. However, she wouldn't roll down her window. All I could do is say, almost at a shout, “I'm just waiting, like you. What's your problem? There's no problem.” Felt altogether impotent and silly. I returned to my car.

Clearly, I had not made a full return from the mountain top. I was not ready to deal with other people. It's well and good to be courteous to people in your faith community, people you've come to know and care for. But the real test is how you treat the stranger.

I'm not sure I earned a passing grade as I confronted that woman in the grocery store parking lot. I went home, so my cat could teach me greater humility.

Bukowski on Writing

There's nothing to stop a man from writing unless that man stops himself. If a man truly desires to write, then he will. Rejection and ridicule will only strengthen him. And the longer he is held back the stronger he will become, like a mass of rising water against a dam. There is no losing in writing; it will make your toes laugh as you sleep; it will make you stride like a tiger; it will fire the eye and put you face to face with Death. You will die a fighter, you will be honored in hell. The luck of the word. Go with it, send it. Be the Clown in the Darkness. It's funny. It's funny. One more new line ...
— from The Captain is Out to Lunch and the Sailors Have Taken Over the Ship

Idée d’jour

Humans think they are smarter than dolphins because we build cars and buildings and start wars, etc., and all that dolphins do is swim in the water, eat fish, and play around. Dolphins believe that they are smarter for exactly the same reasons.
— Douglas Adams