I went somewhere sacred last week. I went to the desert. I think the deserts at night might be the still point of the turning world: concentration without elimination, to borrow from Eliot. The stillness of the stars, the softess of the sand, the sound of song and the safety of tender and trustworthy companions were the refreshment my soul needed.
There is space in the silence. Space enough to expand and to hear. And the darkness is dazzling. And people are profoundly mysterious and lovely, especially the people I was with. There was water in this desert; and there were tears.
The mud caves were delightful.
Exploration is delightful.
Dirt is very powdery. I was happily clad with it for most of the trip.
And the flames of corrugated cardboard transported me for a few glorious moments out of Chronos into Kairos.
Thank you for taking us, Father David.
2/05/2007
1/25/2006
Happy Birthday
It's Mozart's 250th Birthday today. Go play or listen to something in his his honor. Personally, I think I'm busting out Fantasy in D minor. Oh, man, it's been a while...
:) A
:) A
1/22/2006
Beyond Logic
It's funny to me how often Grandpa, whose cognitive skills don't work quite right, always manages to point out our family's absurdities. He knows when things don't make sense a lot more than we give him credit for.
Today Mom was telling me about how she came to the Lord.
"I knew about God, but I wasn't born again."
Grandpa, who is always listening, even though we forget he's there, piped in.
"How can someone be born again?" he asked. "That doesn't make sense."
Someone else asked that question once. THe only response I could give was one that went beyond my reasoning abilities. "The wind blows where it wishes, and you hear the sound of it, but cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So is everyone who is born of the Spirit."
Some things are on the other side of logic...
Like our conversation last night. I was playing Ella Fitzgerald, (trying to figure out WHAT IS THE DEAL with scat singing), and Grandpa kept insisting that it was me singing.
"That's you!"
"No it's not! I can't scat like that!"
"Yes it is. It sounds just like you!"
:) Um...ok, Gramps.
I'll take that kind of logic any day ;).
Today Mom was telling me about how she came to the Lord.
"I knew about God, but I wasn't born again."
Grandpa, who is always listening, even though we forget he's there, piped in.
"How can someone be born again?" he asked. "That doesn't make sense."
Someone else asked that question once. THe only response I could give was one that went beyond my reasoning abilities. "The wind blows where it wishes, and you hear the sound of it, but cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So is everyone who is born of the Spirit."
Some things are on the other side of logic...
Like our conversation last night. I was playing Ella Fitzgerald, (trying to figure out WHAT IS THE DEAL with scat singing), and Grandpa kept insisting that it was me singing.
"That's you!"
"No it's not! I can't scat like that!"
"Yes it is. It sounds just like you!"
:) Um...ok, Gramps.
I'll take that kind of logic any day ;).
1/20/2006
Morning Musings about Grief
I woke up this morning in a panic.
For some reason, all the books I read my junior year of highschool--the Inklings--seemed to be billowing before me, threatening to crash themselves into my head all at once.
Must...read...Williams again...
Must...read...
Well, I must read them all again actually.
It has been a terrifying morning. Books are so insistent, you know? And they won't go away.
But in response to what I posted below, and in response to Williams' Descent into Hell, I wonder,
Is it possible to grieve on someone's behalf, as it is possible to carry their fear (not their pain, notice, but their fear)?
I hear of people with a calling to intercessory prayer for the children of the world, for their plight. Those people grieve, a terrible good.
How is grief for another different from our grief for ourselves? Because surely, we should not deny ourselves they joy that comes from entering fully into our own pain. Nobody can die for us. As Anna says, "I will do it myself. Nobody will do it for me."
But Someone died on our behalf, and we are called to the same road, are we not?
Help, please.
For some reason, all the books I read my junior year of highschool--the Inklings--seemed to be billowing before me, threatening to crash themselves into my head all at once.
Must...read...Williams again...
Must...read...
Well, I must read them all again actually.
It has been a terrifying morning. Books are so insistent, you know? And they won't go away.
But in response to what I posted below, and in response to Williams' Descent into Hell, I wonder,
Is it possible to grieve on someone's behalf, as it is possible to carry their fear (not their pain, notice, but their fear)?
I hear of people with a calling to intercessory prayer for the children of the world, for their plight. Those people grieve, a terrible good.
How is grief for another different from our grief for ourselves? Because surely, we should not deny ourselves they joy that comes from entering fully into our own pain. Nobody can die for us. As Anna says, "I will do it myself. Nobody will do it for me."
But Someone died on our behalf, and we are called to the same road, are we not?
Help, please.
1/19/2006
A Difference
My thought for the evening...
There is a difference between complaining and grieving.
We complain because we have not properly grieved.
Complaining is resistence to pain.
Grief is entering into it fully.
Complaining involves focusing on what is external and temporary.
Grieving involves attending to the internal and the eternal.
We complain because we are fearful of pain.
Why are we fearful of pain?
Pain can be endured; fear cannot.
Complaining is not being content.
Grief is the proper response to pain.
It is not improper to be content with pain.
But it is also proper to grieve.
And when we have given our pain the grief, not the complaining, it deserves,
Then can we know joy.
Then can we see the golden light and the dryads dancing together as one.
Thoughts, anyone?
There is a difference between complaining and grieving.
We complain because we have not properly grieved.
Complaining is resistence to pain.
Grief is entering into it fully.
Complaining involves focusing on what is external and temporary.
Grieving involves attending to the internal and the eternal.
We complain because we are fearful of pain.
Why are we fearful of pain?
Pain can be endured; fear cannot.
Complaining is not being content.
Grief is the proper response to pain.
It is not improper to be content with pain.
But it is also proper to grieve.
And when we have given our pain the grief, not the complaining, it deserves,
Then can we know joy.
Then can we see the golden light and the dryads dancing together as one.
Thoughts, anyone?
Aphiemi
Why is it always
that we resist the pain
but embrace the fear?
Aphiemi...
We say that fear grasps us.
But it is we who grasp fear.
We clutch her with every power.
"Divorce, untie, or break that knot again."
We are knotted with fear,
But it is we who wove the tie.
It is a passive, not an active release, I think.
It is aphiemi. It is not ekballow.
What is pain, when it is not accompanied by fear?
I would like to know.
that we resist the pain
but embrace the fear?
Aphiemi...
We say that fear grasps us.
But it is we who grasp fear.
We clutch her with every power.
"Divorce, untie, or break that knot again."
We are knotted with fear,
But it is we who wove the tie.
It is a passive, not an active release, I think.
It is aphiemi. It is not ekballow.
What is pain, when it is not accompanied by fear?
I would like to know.
1/12/2006
to be exact
It's been a while since I've posted, almost three months to be exact. That's a long time.
Time the destroyer is also time the healer, said some wise person, well, Eliot to be exact.
Math and music can't happen without time, can they?
A lot of my thought has centered around Time these last three months. The concept of Eternity is probably the most frightening thing I know of.
I am in a consumer math class now. I have a midterm in two days, to be exact. I have done precisely one homework assignment out of a total of about 15. Which is why I am writing this post.
The next chapter is on Personal Finance. Well, that might be helpful, except for the depressing fact that at this point "personal" and "finance" are foreign words to me. Well, "personal" isn't a foreign word, but it certainly presupposes you know what a "person" is. I get confused about that sometimes. I guess it has to do with having a Chest--having Sentiment.
When I was in Oxford, Benedicta and I talked a lot about tears. Saints in the past have viewed them as very gracious things--the wellspring of humanity, if you like. When we weep we are alive. We are open to healing, to forgiveness.
But we can only weep when we are most nearly dead.
And what a death it is when tears that should come do not.
Should. Ought.
I have been thinking about these words a great deal lately. I have no idea in the world what to make of them. After reading the Abolition of Man, of course I see them as glorious things. We ought to obey the Tao.
But should and ought seem so alien to love. No one wants to be loved from duty. But we have a duty to love everyone. "Owe nothing to anyone but to love one another".
But with ought and should come so much guilt. I cannot see the difference between doing a thing out of duty and doing a thing out of guilt. I suppose it is just a matter of perspective; most things are I guess. Someone help me, if you can, if you know. Because I am trying to figure out what the wellspring of action ought to be. And I am not satisfied by the supposedly glorious objective Ought of the Tao. I can't be motivated by that.
I think I can only be motivated by something personal. By a Person, if you will. But not just any person. A person who loves me unconditionally and has sacrificial love for me. That kind of person I could do anything for, I think. And I could especially do it if that person were beautiful.
And I think the difference is this. When I'm doing something because I love someone, my thought is that I want to please that person because of how much he loves me and I love him. There is no guilt or ought or should about it.
Or is there? Won't I feel all the worse when I do fail? Probably.
Perfect love is said to cast out fear. Guilt is fear I guess.
Ok, I'm going to go do my math homework now. Not because I love Math. Sure, it may be the Nature of the Universe, but try as you might you are never going to be able to please and impersonal force.
"Whatever you do, do all for the glory of God." Now, that is like the most impersonal statement I have ever read. "The glory of God" blah blah blah. What does that even mean? Ok, so it's revealed in the face of a Person--Jesus Christ. But then, if I am going to do something, I am going to do it for the Person and not for his "glory". But then how can you separate Christ's glory from Christ?
I am driven mad by my need for "personal" relationship, but I don't really even know what that means. Except that I do sort of. But so imperfectly that I still freak out.
My friend Jim, my old neighbor across the street, always tells me I make life so much more complicated that it actually is. He is probably right. He says I should just let life come to me. He says I am the one in control of my destiny. My faith, he thinks, is only good for giving me principles for action. He always says I have a good foundation, by which he means I have Objective Values that I live by, that tell me what is right from what is wrong. But he says I can't wait for God to come down from the sky and tell me what choices to make. I have to make them myself. And supposedly my Faith, my Values, are trusty guides.
Right. I get a lot of that.
But if that's all there is to my Faith I might as well be Buddhist. I don't want just the TAO. I could care less about the TAO if that is all there is. I can't love the Tao and the Tao can't love me.
But what if the Tao were to take on flesh?
I really need to stop and go do math.
Time the destroyer is also time the healer, said some wise person, well, Eliot to be exact.
Math and music can't happen without time, can they?
A lot of my thought has centered around Time these last three months. The concept of Eternity is probably the most frightening thing I know of.
I am in a consumer math class now. I have a midterm in two days, to be exact. I have done precisely one homework assignment out of a total of about 15. Which is why I am writing this post.
The next chapter is on Personal Finance. Well, that might be helpful, except for the depressing fact that at this point "personal" and "finance" are foreign words to me. Well, "personal" isn't a foreign word, but it certainly presupposes you know what a "person" is. I get confused about that sometimes. I guess it has to do with having a Chest--having Sentiment.
When I was in Oxford, Benedicta and I talked a lot about tears. Saints in the past have viewed them as very gracious things--the wellspring of humanity, if you like. When we weep we are alive. We are open to healing, to forgiveness.
But we can only weep when we are most nearly dead.
And what a death it is when tears that should come do not.
Should. Ought.
I have been thinking about these words a great deal lately. I have no idea in the world what to make of them. After reading the Abolition of Man, of course I see them as glorious things. We ought to obey the Tao.
But should and ought seem so alien to love. No one wants to be loved from duty. But we have a duty to love everyone. "Owe nothing to anyone but to love one another".
But with ought and should come so much guilt. I cannot see the difference between doing a thing out of duty and doing a thing out of guilt. I suppose it is just a matter of perspective; most things are I guess. Someone help me, if you can, if you know. Because I am trying to figure out what the wellspring of action ought to be. And I am not satisfied by the supposedly glorious objective Ought of the Tao. I can't be motivated by that.
I think I can only be motivated by something personal. By a Person, if you will. But not just any person. A person who loves me unconditionally and has sacrificial love for me. That kind of person I could do anything for, I think. And I could especially do it if that person were beautiful.
And I think the difference is this. When I'm doing something because I love someone, my thought is that I want to please that person because of how much he loves me and I love him. There is no guilt or ought or should about it.
Or is there? Won't I feel all the worse when I do fail? Probably.
Perfect love is said to cast out fear. Guilt is fear I guess.
Ok, I'm going to go do my math homework now. Not because I love Math. Sure, it may be the Nature of the Universe, but try as you might you are never going to be able to please and impersonal force.
"Whatever you do, do all for the glory of God." Now, that is like the most impersonal statement I have ever read. "The glory of God" blah blah blah. What does that even mean? Ok, so it's revealed in the face of a Person--Jesus Christ. But then, if I am going to do something, I am going to do it for the Person and not for his "glory". But then how can you separate Christ's glory from Christ?
I am driven mad by my need for "personal" relationship, but I don't really even know what that means. Except that I do sort of. But so imperfectly that I still freak out.
My friend Jim, my old neighbor across the street, always tells me I make life so much more complicated that it actually is. He is probably right. He says I should just let life come to me. He says I am the one in control of my destiny. My faith, he thinks, is only good for giving me principles for action. He always says I have a good foundation, by which he means I have Objective Values that I live by, that tell me what is right from what is wrong. But he says I can't wait for God to come down from the sky and tell me what choices to make. I have to make them myself. And supposedly my Faith, my Values, are trusty guides.
Right. I get a lot of that.
But if that's all there is to my Faith I might as well be Buddhist. I don't want just the TAO. I could care less about the TAO if that is all there is. I can't love the Tao and the Tao can't love me.
But what if the Tao were to take on flesh?
I really need to stop and go do math.
10/13/2005
Procrastinatorial Ponderings
When I am completely absorbed in thinking about people I know very well, I often catch a wisp of their scent, blown in by some unknown breeze. I am always surprised by it. Smells always stir the strongest memories and the strangest longings, longings that transcend time and place.
Desire for unity is the strongest and strangest and most excruciating of them all. It is so other-worldly. When we see beauty we want to be caught up in it somehow. Lewis says it better than I can.
Beauty is not primarily functional. It is not utilitarian. It cannot be used. It can only be enjoyed.
I often feel guilty about a longing which I have mislabeled "laziness." That longing simply to rest and to enjoy beauty. But I think if I did that more often, I would be more practical somehow.
I know this is a very poor standard, but I will feel I have become practically perfect when I can write an essay without staying up all night long to do it. It has not happened in five years. But then, neither have I put beauty first.
One thing have I desired of the Lord; that will I seek:
That I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life.
To behold the beauty of the Lord and to inquire in His temple.
Desire for unity is the strongest and strangest and most excruciating of them all. It is so other-worldly. When we see beauty we want to be caught up in it somehow. Lewis says it better than I can.
Beauty is not primarily functional. It is not utilitarian. It cannot be used. It can only be enjoyed.
I often feel guilty about a longing which I have mislabeled "laziness." That longing simply to rest and to enjoy beauty. But I think if I did that more often, I would be more practical somehow.
I know this is a very poor standard, but I will feel I have become practically perfect when I can write an essay without staying up all night long to do it. It has not happened in five years. But then, neither have I put beauty first.
One thing have I desired of the Lord; that will I seek:
That I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life.
To behold the beauty of the Lord and to inquire in His temple.
You Matter To Me
John understands mattering like no one else. His "sacramental theology" is crucial to our understanding of the new life Christ gives. The matter is the medium for the life of the spirit. And what is mattering but a transcription of transcendent truth and reality into the corporeal world?
It's funny how certain things you think about (things you have managed to matter into mystic conversation) keep getting more and more important, even when you've left them alone for a while.
I don't understand it. But I know it just the same. I know that Life Matters. Does Love Matter? I think it can only matter through people. We can only know it through incarnation.
You are your soul. And your soul matters to your body, or your body matters to your soul. What does it mean to tell someone that they matter to you? I do not know.
But I know that sometimes I look at the spiderwebs and sunsets and I see you. Is that you mattering to me?
Sometimes You are there when North Wind comes roaring up the land in loud October. Or when the sun is on the river in Christ Church meadow, or on those rare nights when I can see Jupiter on my walk home down Pullens Lane.
Other worlds Matter.
Elliora matters your spirit to me darling. She is speaking even now, stealing in through the blackness into my half-opened window, sending her golden and scarlet hands into the firmament. Will she find you? Will she make her way across wind and rest upon your eyelids as you sleep?
Elliora matters. She matters sacramentally and so she matters supremely.
And I can feel You smiling at me in the gilded leaves. Why do you love me? Where have you come from, and where are you staying, and where are you going?
Come and see. Do you love me?
Yes, but...
What does it Matter? You follow me.
It's funny how certain things you think about (things you have managed to matter into mystic conversation) keep getting more and more important, even when you've left them alone for a while.
I don't understand it. But I know it just the same. I know that Life Matters. Does Love Matter? I think it can only matter through people. We can only know it through incarnation.
You are your soul. And your soul matters to your body, or your body matters to your soul. What does it mean to tell someone that they matter to you? I do not know.
But I know that sometimes I look at the spiderwebs and sunsets and I see you. Is that you mattering to me?
Sometimes You are there when North Wind comes roaring up the land in loud October. Or when the sun is on the river in Christ Church meadow, or on those rare nights when I can see Jupiter on my walk home down Pullens Lane.
Other worlds Matter.
Elliora matters your spirit to me darling. She is speaking even now, stealing in through the blackness into my half-opened window, sending her golden and scarlet hands into the firmament. Will she find you? Will she make her way across wind and rest upon your eyelids as you sleep?
Elliora matters. She matters sacramentally and so she matters supremely.
And I can feel You smiling at me in the gilded leaves. Why do you love me? Where have you come from, and where are you staying, and where are you going?
Come and see. Do you love me?
Yes, but...
What does it Matter? You follow me.
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