IponderGod

2011-06-05T03:53:00.000-07:00

When g-d revealed himself to Abraham as I am, was g-d revealing a transcendent person separate from all others, or a transcendent life spirit energy completely beyond any one aspect of creation but wholly present in every aspect of creation? A unity of all things, people, places and concepts, but appearing as separate in each individual part? When Jesus revealed himself as I am, was he revealing himself as that one transcendent person, name the great I am, or was he revealing that transcendent life spirit energy completely beyond any one aspect of creation but wholly present in every person, himself, his disciples, sinners gathering around him and even present in the hypocrites who hated him?

2010-09-11T13:21:00.001-07:00

When desire is conceived, suffering will soon be born.

2010-09-07T01:52:00.000-07:00

Sylvia Boorstein talked about having an intention statement to start her times of meditation. I never really formally thought about that, but I immediately had a good idea what mine would be. The difficulty is coming up with those doggone prepositions.

"Present to your presence; loving to your love." Or should it be "loving with your love", or "loving in your love?" I think I'll settle on "loving through your love."

This intention statement says a lot to me, it really sums up everything about meditation and it's also a creed about prayer. Prayer is simply two things: attention and intention. Attention is mindfulness, paying attention to what is, being aware of God's presence. Merton talks about having a "simple, loving awareness." James Finley calls it "realized oneness with God." Brother Lawrence describes practicing his presence as "a habitual sense of God's presence." Even Eckhart Tolle uses similar language: "felt sense of being."

To me, being aware of what is and being aware of God are the same thing. God is being; God is life; God is everything that is, non judgmentally.

Intention is all about the ultimate purpose or goal, if there were to be one for life. The Dalai Lama summarizes in a sutra what we are about every day: "developing ourselves, expanding our heart out to others, achieving enlightenment for the benefit of all living beings." The Dalai Lama isn't necessarily writing about prayer for Christians, but he might have well been. Jesus put it simply, "love one another as I have loved you."

Intention is desire, the real, true heartfelt desire behind everything about who we are. What do I want? Peace for my soul, Peace for the world, praise to the transcendent creator and life force, creating and sustaining all life; praise to God.

2010-07-11T16:51:00.000-07:00

Social Justice trumps worship, but it doesn't cancel it.

2010-06-29T14:28:00.000-07:00

Desire. What do you want? It is the ultimate question. At the core of each one of us, we desire to be happy, to be at peace. The challenge is finding out what brings that happiness and peace.

It is not by wanting things, material or people. It is not in prestige, or ambition, or fame, or physical pleasure, or money or things money can buy.

It is in abandoning the illusion of self and identity. In mindfully accepting the way of the Tao, submission to the Great One, losing attachments and accepting what is, worshiping the true One, uniting with the Logos, realizing the dharma, becoming an instrument of peace to others by compassionate living.

Here is peace. Here is happiness. At the center of your being. At the center of One.

2009-08-12T02:38:00.000-07:00

What the Moon Teaches Me About Faith

The moon is always there, whether I see it or not. It can be hidden by trees, a forest, a gray cloud covered sky, or be on the other side of the planet. It is there, I know it. And not because someone told me about it, I saw it before and I will see it again.

Full moon is hiding.

But I still know it is there.

Obscure in a tree.

Half a moon shining in the sky is better than a full moon hidden. Half a moon in a clear sky can brighten up quite a bit of real estate. It is beautiful itself. A hidden moon can only be imagined.

The moon is an egg.

Still shining bright light to all.

Leaning to one side.

The moon creates no light of it's own, none whatsoever. It is a dark, cold place. But when it gets in the right position, it can reflect an incredible amount of light from the true light, and relfect that to an entire world.

Bullfrogs beckon night.

Fireflies light around lake.

Prayer ascends like moon.

2009-06-20T10:41:00.000-07:00

I believe in one Life, one Being,
one great compassionate Spirit,
infinite and eternal
manifested in various forms
here and now.
I believe the present moment
offers just what I need
for peace and happiness.
No matter the situation or
circumstance, I can choose inner peace right now.
By consciously choosing peace,
intentional prayer, and
expanding my heart to others,
that peace can be shared with the world.
On behalf of all and for all
I accept peace now.

2009-04-08T17:04:00.000-07:00

Jesus is especially lovely to me tonight. Gazing at the many icons of him hanging in my chapel, he looks a little different. Maybe it's because for much of the last 6 months I didn't know what to think of him.

I've been a Christian, well since baptism, but cognitively since 10 years old. An evangelical since my teen years. And an Orthodox Christian. And now a Catholic Christian. And somewhat a Taoist/Buddhist. I may be polytheistic: a Christian God, the Father, the Son, the Holy Spirit, a Protestant God, an Orthodox God, a conservative Catholic God and a progressive Catholic God, an Eckhart Tolle Being God, and a non theistic Buddhist/Taoist reality. They all are appealing.

You may think I'm confused, I don't think I am. The darker the unknowing becomes, the more I know, because I know what God is not. Which makes me closer to what God really is. God is expanding to me like the universe is expanding, become greater all the time.

So I don't always know what to believe about Jesus, which one? The evangelical one coming back as judge? The one in the icon? The lover of humanity? The incarnate transcendent one?

But yesterday someone told me I shouldn't believe he is God, "just drop the God thing" and you've got it all right.

Except that image of him is the closest thing I've seen of God. Love, compassion, incarnation. If that is not deity, than what is?

He looks especially lovely tonight.

2008-12-02T16:17:00.000-08:00

Once I had a dream. I was one of the men carrying the paralytic to be healed by Jesus. But we couldn't get into the house as it was so crowded. So we climbed the roof, dug a hole in it, and lowered the paralyzed man down to Jesus on a mat. The paralytic could not get to Jesus on his own; he had to have someone carry him to Jesus. When I woke up, I realized I am still that man. For many can not get to Christ, His love, mercy, peace, enlightenment, salvation on their own. So others carry them to Christ, by their prayers.

Another time I had a dream. All my prayers, meditation, contemplation, liturgies, Psalmody, chanting the Jesus prayer, my entire spiritual effort added up to one raindrop in a thirsty land. I was sad, as all this good intention seemed to accomplish so little. But then I noticed others had the same intention; the intention to do good for another, to be incarnational, to be a bodhisattva. Their good intentions added up to one raindrop, each and every one. The Dalai Lama, Shakyamuni, Jesus, Mary each were many raindrops. Every one who went to Mass last weekend, or Divine Liturgy, or who prayed for another, each act became a raindrop. Soon, all these raindrops added up to a small creek, which joined another creek from other lands and faiths to make a small river; then with others who had prayed or meditated centuries before, who had good intentions from long time past. And soon the river merged with other rivers and finally became an ocean. The raindrops were indistinguishable from another, as they formed mighty waves. The ocean was not a solitary raindrop, but could not exist without each and every one.

Last night I had a dream. There was a great treasure chest, very large and old, but locked firmly shut with huge chains and locks. I was sad as it appeared we'd never know the treasure inside. But mindfulness was the key, a key that easily opened each and every lock and chain. It was through being mindful that the chest was opened. And inside, it truly was filled with treasure: love, joy, peace, wisdom, compassion, beauty, patience, kindness, mercy, goodness, gentleness, meekness, faithfulness, self-control, humility, pure prayer, pure contemplation, pure intention, integrity, stillness, the Tao, pure desire, contentment, honesty, bodhicitta, sympathetic joy, metta, equanimity, pure awareness, gratitude, devotion, trust, appreciation, pure consciousness, right view, right intention, right speech, right action, right livelihood, right effort, right mindfulness, right concentration, the end of suffering, no more tears or sadness, bliss. And all this was opened to the world, simply through mindfulness.

2008-11-24T16:02:00.000-08:00

Come to my window
see the trees and the sky,
Welcome to my life.
What is this life?
To love and be loved,
to pray and to love,
to live simply and adore Christ,
to be mindful, content and grateful,
to create and experience
beauty, love, joy, peace and compassion,
to desire nada.
This is your life,
this is my life,
and you are the window.

2008-10-28T17:46:00.000-07:00

What do I want?
Ahimsa.
To not be a part of the problem.
To not cause suffering.
To not inflict harm.

What do I want to become?
Metta.
To be a small part of the solution.
To alleviate suffering, even for a few.
To bring peace, if only to this moment.

But really, what do I want? To become?
Nada.
Remembering all the while
to accept things fully
as they are,
just as they are.

2008-10-26T09:30:00.000-07:00

This is the best moment of my life. This is the best day of my life. This is the best season of my life. It is true! It is true!

Or so I say at 3:00 in the morning, meditating, looking out my front window, waiting for the migraine pill to take affect, while for the third night in a row I restlessly await sleep again.

But is it true? Judging the moment, the day, the season so? Mindfulness is intentionally paying attention to what is, without judging.

I want to have faith, to believe it is the best of times, and for a few moments I can, I do! The pain doesn't matter, the lack of sleep doesn't matter, I just sit, just breathe, just be still, just be. Until the thinking starts again, of worries, of market crashes, of lost hopes and dreams, trail runs gone awry in the wood, of bogeymen that don't exist except somewhere in the deep recesses of my subconscious.

"Be still" I say!

The autumn sun slowly rises, hiding somewhere buried behind gray, cold clouds. "Shall I rise to pray, to wait with the dawn?" Shall I miss Eucharist for a third straight week to lay here warm, finally free for a moment from pain, from obligation, from foreboding darkness?

Noon time brings a walk on the rosary trail. The sun finally punctures holes through bleak skies to shine scattered rays, revealing the truth of ever existing beauty in the woods.

Hail Mary full of Grace, the Lord is with Thee...Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done...Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy...May peace prevail on Earth.

Stopping to gaze at the suns rays bursting through, the peace pole proclaiming peace soon to be prevailing, in languages new, the icon and mystery of Pentecost on my lips and in my view...

This is a most wonderful moment. This is a most wonderful day. This is a most wonderful season. It is true! It is true!

This is my Eucharist.

2008-10-09T18:30:00.000-07:00

I started to pray tonight, like I have every night for quite some years, but then I remembered I don't believe in God. Well, I don't think I believe in God, or definitely, maybe I'm not sure I believe in God, at least not like I used to.

It was so easy then. But now, unfulfilled dreams, dashed hopes, despair rolling in as sure as the nightfall. That I am sure of: nightfall, darkness, silence, and somehow, dawn.

Beauty too. I can sit and believe in the beauty all around me. The sunset, the crickets, the leaves changing colors, the seasons, the sound of children playing in the distance, cool autumn evenings. An ugly brown labradoodle strolls by with its owner, who probably, maybe believes in God.

Tonight I will settle for beauty, compassion, despair, love and joyful mourning. Mourning the loss of the God I used to believe in. Joyful in this breath, this life, the beauty, the being, the God I might know.

2008-10-08T16:54:00.001-07:00

It is hard to listen if one is talking,
it is hard to stand still if one is walking.
It is hard to be still if one is doing,
but it is not hard to be, if one simply is.

What is?

The colors of leaves changing, the coolness of the breeze blowing,
the sound of the cottonwood leaves clapping, applauding the final act of the season.
The sky, blue-ish gray, with white wisps of clouds dancing,
the green grass tired of growing, now slowing for winter,
resting till next springs performance and showing.

What am I?
Simply me, simply me.

The same as the seasons,
just observing for no reason,
Joyful, quiet,
watching this for my own pleasing.
The seasons and me
forever will be
on a journey together
and weather the weather.

Shhh now and listen:
the crow beckons to speak;
time to listen to nature, to self, and to seek.
To listen to what is,
to become simply what is,
stop doing and be
simply me,
simply me.

2008-10-07T17:36:00.000-07:00

It is not your fault you have this pain.
Continue to love
and be loved.
Be at peace,
and grant peace.
Experience beauty,
and create beauty.
Stay in this moment.

2008-07-20T10:53:00.001-07:00

A tree planted in the garden of God,
not trying to be anything else,
smiling at the moonlight,
laughing at the fireflies,
watching for the sunrise,
knowing it will be there
as sure as the air it breathes.
Listening to the breeze blow,
resting in the evenings glow,
not trying to be a tree planted in the garden of God,
its shade hiding in the night
not seeking for the light
giving of itself
one of many trees
yet
special as each of its leaves,
the same as all the others
one with the forest
yet one alone
this tree
planted in the garden of God.

2008-07-06T17:40:00.000-07:00

Six thirty in the morning, sitting
looking out the front window
at the green trees, the green grass, the luminous day arising.
I'm not meditating, I'm not praying,
I'm not saving the world or acquiring inner peace,
I'm not on any spiritual journey.
Just sitting,
just breathing,
just being,
thinking, then not thinking, then trying not to think.
Then waiting
for the next breath,
the next moment,
then this breath,
and this moment.

It is deep within me.
A still small chamber of my heart says
"it's okay to love me; it's okay to sit, to be still, to not pray or meditate,
but to wonder at the beauty outside and inside, to love and be loved."

So I watch the day shed its despair; watch the trees and grass stay green,
listen to the birds sing "here and now"
and forgive myself
for not meditating, not praying,
not saving the world or acquiring inner peace.
Instead I learn,
to simply breath,
to simply be.

Be still,
be one,
in this breath,
in this moment.

2008-06-03T17:01:00.000-07:00

Years ago, when I was a Protestant, I remember teaching a class on the miracles of Jesus in the book of John. One that always seemed to perplex me was the wedding at Cana. Miracles were supposed to have a meaning, a purpose to them, not just some arbitrary happening to impress people. I could never figure out what the meaning of the turning of the water into wine was, until now.

Now, as I pray the Rosary on Thursdays and meditate on this second mystery of light, it seems to make sense. First, there is the miracle itself. Jesus turns the substance of something into something else. He takes ordinary water, and makes it into wine, not to impress the wedding guests, but as a sign. It is his first miracle, and is a precursor to his last miracle, turning wine into his blood at the Last supper, or first Eucharist. What a powerful type this miracle is!

The second meaning, is the understanding of how this miracle transpired. Mary came to Jesus and basically interceded to him on behalf of the host. Jesus is doing more than providing party favors. For the host to run out of wine would be a terrible fax paus, humiliating to him. Jesus does not take any action until he is asked by His mother. Here we see a beautiful picture of Mary in her role as Mediatrix and Advocate.

Which leads to an even deeper understanding. Jesus, and God the Father, do not just go around doing miracles, healing people, dispensing grace, arbitrarily. Jesus didn't find a hospital and just walk in and let everbody out. He acts when he is asked. And so it still is today. Does God need us? In one sense, of course not. But in another sense, yes, God has chosen to limit his activity of grace and mercy in response to a praying people. Gods ultimate goal is relationship with us. God looks for us to seek him in prayer, loving and adoring him, and interceding on behalf of others. He is not like the old pez candy toy, you bop Bozo on the head and candy falls out for us to consume. But he does wish for us to intercede, to meet him in silence and solitude, to stand in the gap on behalf of a suffering world, to abide with him and ask for mercy on its behalf.

I sometimes think of prayer as building a railroad. The Holy Spirit is like a train, full of energy and power, waiting to carry its power and supply to others. But it has to have a track to run on. We, our prayers, are that railroad track. We lay our requests before God like laying track, waiting for the Holy Spirit to then move bringing healing and mercy. Is it our power that does this? Absolutely not, it is all the grace of God. Yet it is our cooperation with the Holy Spirit to pray and seek Gods will in this life.

2008-03-28T17:21:00.000-07:00

Walking around the St. Meinrad parking lot tonight, I saw lots of "Choose Life" license plates from all over. Mississippi, Kentucky, Ohio and Indiana. Several bumper stickers like "Overturn Roe V Wade"; "Abortion: one dead, one wounded", and of course "It's a child, not a choice."

I'm all for choosing life. Just wish I see the following on license plates or bumper stickers too: "We have no right to kill anyone, overturn capital punishment". "End racism now". "Defend the cause of the weak of fatherless, maintain the rights of the poor and oppressed--Psalm 82:3". And the one I really want to see: "Adopt another special needs foster child."

We sure love to focus on one issue and make it the litmus test for everything. Polarization is the American way; take a side and let's duke it out. Is that what Choose life really means? One issue, that's it?

Was thinking this morning of Choose Life during my quiet time. I was wondering what is the opposite of life? The Culture of Death; there's another sound byte for us. Most of us would say death, as I would have...until today. Isn't death just a part of life? I don't know anyone who was born that didn't eventually die, except those of us still around. But I don't think are chances are that good; it seems pretty inevitable.

Do we, do I, glibly accept other tensions without thinking about them? The opposite of peace? Maybe not war, maybe it is drama: the desire to have tension, emotion, a bone to wrestle another doggie over. Is the opposite of love hate, or is it fear? How about joy? Is it really depression or sadness? Maybe joyful mourning is a part of joy. Maybe pleasure is the real kryptonite to true joy.

So what is the opposite of Life? Maybe it is existence; simply existing. Life is being present to the moment; being aware of awareness; being mindful of life and all it brings; being compassionate and loving; being connected to the One, to all others, to the All.

So many of us, including myself, are too busy doing life, and not being it. It passes us by quickly, so quickly we race to see if we can outrun it and get more done before the day is over, before our day is over and we die. Instead of simply being it: breathing its air, drinking deeply of its water, appreciating its beauty, thanking it for its bounty, loving its people, caring for its creation, noticing its moments, accepting its challenges, petting its puppies and smelling it roses.

I believe we should all Choose Life; for the unborn, the oppressed, the fatherless, the needy, the disenfranchised, and most of all, for ourselves. By living life one moment at a time, in love and gratefulness.

2008-02-18T05:37:00.000-08:00

It is official. I think I am delusional and prone to some kind of mental illness. It is either that or... who knows?

People who go around saying that God talks to them make me a little nervous, actually a lot nervous. Especially if God talks to them like we chat with folks at the proverbial water cooler. "God told me to go to this church...God told me to give you this....God told me to tell you to do this." Just can't relate to that. I've had my share of contemplative moments, deep times of prayer and inspiration, but don't think I can verbally express exact words that "God" spoke to me.

But I don't need to. Contemplation, prayer, mystical experience is at a deeper level than words. It is at a deeper level than feeling or emotion. It is a relationship. It is a simple, loving awareness of the immanent presence of the transcendent God.

And that's it. What more can words say? When I tell my wife or children "I love you" do I reveal some cerebral knowledge that they didn't know before? They know I love them not by what I say, but by what I do, by who I am: their father, husband, lover, friend. The word part is to confirm the already existing relationship. Real relationship goes much deeper, is more profound than what just words can express, what idea we can conjure up.

A simple loving awareness of the immanent presence of the transcendent God. Like when I'm standing in the yard very early in the morning and hear hawks screeching overhead. When I'm hiking in the woods and stop to hear the utter stillness of a forest, waterfall, leaves falling, wind blowing through trees. When I'm walking into church and hear the beckon of a solitary crow against a cold gray sky. When I receive the body and blood of Christ, with my community locally, universally, and historically. When I hear a loved ones voice calling me from a thousand miles away. Something stirs inside. Something interior, beyond words, beyond comprehension says, "life." I am alive, we are alive, that transcendent other, inconcieivable being, ineffable Creator, is real. He, or she, is greater than thought, gender, dogma or doctrine. Their love is beyond belief. But I know it, more than I know anything I've ever known. Not by understanding, not by words, but through a mystical experience of faith, a relationship.

Which brings me back to why I'm fearful I'm a mental case. In one of my textbooks for Foundational Theology, I read this about mystical experience, or revelation as inner experience: "While in theory anyone can be the subject of mystical experience, few are. Most of us are left with so-called secondary formulations."

Really? I thought we all had a personal (not private) relationship with God? You mean people actually devote their lives to a religion that they only know in their head and have no direct experience in their heart? That is not love. That is not faith. That is a pre-arranged convenience marriage without any soul.

I don't go around with stories of how God told me this or God told me that. I haven't had any apparitions or physical theophanies. I don't talk to God like Oprah or Ellen talk to their guests. I can't comment on what God told me like Rush or Chris or Sean comment about Hillary and Barack. Jesus didn't come over to watch the Super Bowl and have a brewski. I am certianly not special or privileged, but I don't think I'm crazy either.

I do sit in silence in the morning; sometimes just sitting, and sometimes sensing a presence beyond me. Sometimes I hike in the woods and have to stop, look at the bright sun revealing a huge forest with snow on trees, and wildlife peeking out from hidden coves looking for spring. Sometimes I watch a flock of geese fly overhead, snow gently begin to fall, squirrels foraging for food, trees bursting with buds, daffodils struggling to erupt from frozen ground, and a statue of the Sacred Heart of Jesus in the middle of it all, with his hand pointing to his heart, to a presence, experience and love beyond my comprehension.

I just want to sit and listen, to look, to observe. To ponder on what it is, or who it is, that is behind, before, ahead, and beyond this hidden, obscure life of prayer and love.

2007-12-28T16:55:00.000-08:00

I wonder if God can suffer? You would think he being God certainly would not have to. It would be hard to imagine God suffering for any reason; it just doesn't seem very becoming of God. It almost shows weakness, lack of strength, or some other fault. At least, seems like that's why we suffer most of the time.

God the Son did suffer. He came to earth, was born a human, and suffered immense physical, mental and spiritual pain during the passion. He even died.

God the Spirit seems to suffer. We are told not to quench the Spirit, nor to grieve the Spirit. Grieving or being quenched sounds to me like suffering, at least to a degree.

But God the Father? How could He suffer? Hard for me to comprehend. Until 3 weeks ago.

We kicked our 18 year old bipolar son out of the house. He had yet another violent outburst: smashed a hole in a door, went after his sister, had to be separated physically from harming her, then left us a scathing voice mail about how much he hates us and how we have ruined his life. We weren't even home, we were in another state! So I knew right then it can't keep up. It would be one thing for me alone to put up with him, but it's killing our family. So for two weeks he's been relying on the few friends he has for a place to stay.

His high school counselor pleaded for us to reconsider, or put him up somewhere, or at least buy him a car to live out of so he can get around. Talking to her, I felt like a really lousy parent, and a horrible person. I keep thinking of the story of the prodigal son; I so want to greet him, wrap my arms around him and make everything better. But he is still bitter, very bitter. Still blames us for all his problems, and trashes us to his friends and anyone who will listen. He is still far from getting to the place of the prodigal son it seems. Who knows? Maybe I'm far from showing the love of his father.

That prodigal son story keeps haunting me. I keep hearing so much about unconditional love, what about tough love? So I thought where is there any indication what we are doing the right thing; is there any evidence for this tough love?

Then I thought of the garden of Eden. Adam and Eve take a bite of an apple and are kicked out of the garden, give up eternal life, and bring death and hell for the entire human race. Wow, that's pretty tough love. Now I'm certainly not God, that's not my point. But how much did it hurt the Father to have to do this? Do we think he was smirking, wagging his finger saying "told you so!!" I think not.

I guess God the Father can suffer, and does suffer, for his children. The children he loves dearly, and wants so desperately to embrace and welcome back into his home. Just like I do.

2007-12-18T17:38:00.001-08:00

Joy and suffering, pleasure and pain. For about all of my life, there has been a pretty distinct line between these apparent polar extremes. It's been fairly obvious which one I'm experiencing. Big bowl of ice cream with chocolate syrup and a cherry: pleasure. Dental work: pain. Any questions?

Until a week ago Sunday. I ran my second trail marathon, and 12 marathon overall. It was at Otter Creek park in Kentucky. Temperature wasn't too bad, in the 40's to start, 50's later. But it was really, really hilly with lots of mud. Then started a light rain. Then a torrential downpour that lasted about 45 minutes. The trails were submerged. What were small little berms became creeks over my ankles. And for the last 3 hours, soaking wet and cold, I was freezing, tired, hungry and sore.

Three times in past marathons I bonked, hit the wall, had to walk and suffer from just wanting to get it over with. Even the memory of those is painful. This time could have been the same. A new personal worst time: over 8 hours! But it was different. I went in looking forward to walking most of it, wanting to enjoy the hike. When the pain started, or what appeared to be pain, I realized I could stop at any time, well, if I could get back to a road. But I didn't want to. Shivering, tired, legs hurting, I would stop and look at the beauty of my surroundings. Huge cliffs across the rivers. Empty trees with leaves all across the ground. Deer, birds and all kinds of critters. And of course the best benefit of being extremely slow, hiking alone in the forest, the silence, the solitude.

When I came to the now gushing small streams to step into and freeze my lower legs, I could dread them, or I could actually enjoy them. I'd stop to listen to the waterfall. I'd gaze at the misty sky. I'd feel the pouring rain run down my face, feel the sloshing of mud and water under my feet. And I couldn't tell the difference: was this pain, or was this pleasure? Was I suffering, or was I joyful?

And I realized life is just like this. I'm not ready to say suffering is all in my head, those legs felt pretty bad. But the perspective and attitude one takes makes a huge difference. There is a lot of meaning to the four noble truths of Buddhism. And I'm learning my own lessons from suffering. One, fear is the greatest part of suffering. If I quit resisting and fighting suffering and simply accept it for what it is, I disarm it to a large degree. Second, suffering should not stop me from enjoying beauty and peace. By keeping focused on those, the pain isn't as bad. And finally, suffering is only temporary, it will end. Just like this marathon, and the next one, and the next. Just like today's problems. Just like all of life moves along, day to day, moment to moment. The one thing I can carry with me as a constant is how I perceive things, how I perceive joy and suffering, pleasure and pain.

2007-12-01T14:06:00.000-08:00

I watched a leaf fall this afternoon. Yes, living in the woods you see a lot of leaves fall. But this was different. I watched it mindfully, with full intention on it. I was at Fort Ben hiking with Lady Gator. About an hour and a half into it, on camp creek trail, I took a little side trail that overlooks a creek 20 or 30 feet below where we were standing. It's a great view; there's a nice black cherry tree there to lean on looking out over the lower woods. Not many leaves still on the trees, except for beech maple, they just don't want to give it up until the bitter end, soon to come whether they realize it or not.

I looked up while stretching, and noticed one solitary leaf on a very large sycamore tree begin its descent. It seemed like it took hours. It probably fell 70 or 80 feet, slowly, crisscrossing gently with the light breeze, meandering all the way down till it finally hit home, half way between the large sycamore and the half dry, half wet creek. And there it lay, it was over.

Wonder when that leaf was born? This time last year that sycamore tree was bare, going into hibernation for the cold Indiana winter. Sometime in late February or March it began to bud. Then, probably in April, the bud became a leaf. It grew in May and June, green and full. July and August were hot, the hottest since we've been here. Dry also, but the leaf and the tree made it, it's roots getting moisture from the creek nearby. September came and the leaf began to change colors; in October it became yellow, then brown for November. And today, on December 1st, it fell to the earth.

Felt kind of sad, like I was at a funeral. But the life of the leaf is really not over. It will soon become dust, and integrate into the ground. It will join with the rain, the snow, and the creek to offer life to the trees around it. And someday, somehow, it will live again. It's all part of the cycle of life. Unknown to itself, the many magnificant parts of life make the whole, doing what they do, being what they are.

Felt very warm standing there taking a moment, but now I felt the cold twenty something degree air again. It's time to move on, time to walk again, time to finish this hike and do, be something else. Do some chores like men do; talk to my kids like fathers do, love my wife like husbands do, go to church like Christians should, work like Americans must, pray as many can, meditate as many are, be what I am in this moment, in this life.

I glance at the berm below, looking for that leaf. But it is indistinguishable among the tens of thousands on the forest floor, one of many. But for that moment, it was one alone.

2007-11-25T06:09:00.000-08:00

May your kingdom of beauty, peace, love and joy come to alleviate the suffering of all, and may I seek to desire your peace, through my faith, with my family, in my vocation and as I journey this hidden, obscure life of prayer.

It's 20 degrees outside; the ground is frozen and covered with frost. I'm standing in my pajamas with a heavy coat and hooded sweater on in my woods. I prayed for 15 minutes inside the warm house, and could quite easily return there, but walking out the long driveway to get the paper I got distracted.

There seem to be quite a few absurdities in my life. Why did I move from sunny Orlando Florida to Indianapolis only to get laid off from my job 3 years later? Why did I move to Indy instead of Denver or Phoenix? Why did I live 7 years in a dangerous inner city with my family? Why did I foster parent and then adopt so many children? WWhy do I attempt to run/hike marathons and half marathons when I'm so sickly and definitely not athletic? Why I am I standing here freezing in my pajamas in the middle of a clump of trees?

The woods drew us to this house. Living on a heavliy wooded acre, with other large wooded lots all around us near the Fall Creek/Ft Ben state forest sold the deal. Yesterday we had 5 deer in our back woods. When we moved here, I started clearing the underbrush from the woods. Didn't really have a plan, but 5 years later there is a trail/labryinth, icons in stands, a grotto with Our Lady of Grace, a planter with the Sacred Heart of Jesus, and tiles buried in the trail to make a rosary. I could almost feel the neighbors staring as we worked on this. Some would come over and ask what we're doing. Making a go cart path for the kids? Setting up deer feeders? Planting grass to make a nice yard?

But I was making a prayer garden, a meditative woods, a sacred space, a peaceful place. Oh, don't forget the 4 x 4 cedar peace pole we made and planted.

I think the line between absurd and obscure has just narrowed.

Why can't I just read my bible and go to one church like a normal person? Why can't I live such a hidden life of prayer it's hidden even to me, because maybe it doesn't exist?

Some days I feel like Richard Dreyfus in Close Encounters, when he's making a design out of his mashed potatoes or turning his living room into an mountain. I sense such a pull or draw to live simply and adore Christ; to seek silence and solitude in the woods; to acquire inner peace; to pray in whatever tradition or manner I can for the peace of the world.

I could stop being absurd and be normal. I could devote my life to a career and lie on my deathbed thinking how much money I made or how much my portfolio returned. I could spend hours smacking a little white ball into a hole until I became utterly proficient at it. I could drink beer and watch TV and hang out at strip clubs. I could be dignified and obtain letters after my name to prove my knowledge.

Or I can stand in my pajamas when it's 20 degrees out, and watch a bright orange ball of fire emerge from the horizon. Trees stand at attention while the mist from my breath slowly ascends. Silence on a Sunday morning so profound it's deafening. Feel sub-freezing air on my skin as the sun thaws frozen dreams and illusions of what life is supposed to be about. The symphony of life is tuning up; preparing to launch another days concerto in the woods with no one watching, no one listening. At least, not normal people. Only those absurd enough to seek peace, to desire beauty, to find true joy in obscurity.

2007-11-18T17:18:00.000-08:00

"Deep calls unto deep at the noise of your waterfalls. All your waves and breakers have gone over me." Psalm 42

Hiking at Ft. Ben this afternoon, I stopped at the boardwalk by Fall Creek. There is a good stream of water, and with a few rocks and trees down in the creek, it creates a rippling sound with little mini waterfalls. This verse came to mind. I looked at a few of the crevices and small burns that feed the creek. They are mostly dry this late in the year, especially with as little rain as we've had.

My imagination followed a raindrop landing in the forest, eventually finding it's way down a cliff into a crevice, then into Fall Creek. Downtown another 10 miles or so Fall Creek feeds into the White River. The White River goes another 40-50 miles where it empties into the Wabash river, which eventually flows into the Ohio River, which is the largest tributary of the Mississippi River, which of course flows into the Gulf of Mexico and the Atlantic Ocean. Talk about nature running it's course. Water seeks the lowest place, and joins with other water to form creeks, streams, and rivers to flow where it desires. The large rocks and boulders may create some minor detours, but it can't stop the river from achieving its goal and reaching where it desires.

What a picture of the spiritual life, captured so well by the Psalmist. If we, if I, would just seek the lowest place and allow the Spirit to run its course, I would find God, my ocean. Might not be overnight; might be some turns and bends and rocks and dams, but eventually, as I keep seeking the lowest place, I will find what I desire. Joining with other like minded seekers, together we create power that will become unstoppable. A drop of water doesn't make an ocean, but an ocean is made of many drops of water.

Deep calls unto deep.
Raindrop, snowflake, river, stream.
Ocean destiny.

2007-11-11T05:25:00.000-08:00

"Believe one who knows: there is something greater in woods than in books. Trees and stones will teach you that which you can never learn from masters." St. Bernard of Clairvaux.

I hate my house. It's a 60's tri-level. Some rooms are freezing while others are hot. There is almost no closet space, one bedroom without one at all. The hard water from the well smells and leaves rust rings, even with a filtration system. The rooms are fairly small, certainly by todays standards.

I love my home. An acre of woods, with all the lots around us 1-2 acres of woods. Watched two big bucks running in our back woods, several times yesterday. Been praying on our rosary trail and walking the labyrinth daily. This morning sat in silence looking out our big windows and watching the rain come down, bringing with it hundreds of leaves. Sunday mornings there is virtually no noise, just beautiful silence, inside and out. With the Sacred Heart statue in the planter with hostas, and Our Lady of Grace deep in the woods, I can see the love of God piercing through the majesty of the seasons. Brilliant colors, trees swaying and dancing high in the wind, squirrels playing and running preparing for winter, birds saying goodbye till spring, a chill in the air signaling the dark night of the soul coming, the warmth and smell of a fire.

The desert fathers say "flee to your cell and your cell will teach you everything." This week I heard "flee to the forest, and the forest will teach you everything." In two hour hikes in the woods every day, it has.

Detachment: from things, people, good and bad, noise, ambition, career, failure, depression and attachment to illusions of God.
Desire: one thing have I desired of the Lord, that will I seek after. To dwell in the house of the Lord, all the days of my life. To behold his beauty, inquire in his temple.
Mindfulness: be aware of what I'm thinking, saying, doing. Abide within. The desert fathers say one should be like the seraphim, all eyes. Observing life with a patient, keen look.
Meditation: Think. Don't think. Sit. Practice. Nada.
Simplicity: Less is better than more; clarity in narrowing one's focus. Seek that which fulfills and dispense of the rest.
Adoration: nothing is more necessary than adoration.
Humility: The Lord is near to those who have a broken spirit, and saves such as have a contrite heart. Ps 34
Contentment: Find rest O my soul, in God Alone. Ps 62
Gratefulness: Bless the Lord O my soul, and all that is within me bless his holy name.
Silence: Truly my soul waits silently for God; wait silently O my soul, for God alone.
Solitude: It is good to wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord...let him sit alone in silence. Lamentations 3.
Stillness: Be still and know that I am God. Hesychia can be desired by us all. In our hearts, in our homes, in old, cold houses, or deep in the woods sitting on a rock looking over a creekbed.

2007-09-20T16:26:00.000-07:00

I feel like an onion. Like God is just peeling and peeling away the layers of my life. Here I am, passively sitting while another layer bites the dust. I watch it drop to the floor, and yes, the whole process can bring tears to ones eyes.

Someone asked Michelangelo how he made his famous sculpture David. He responded, "I took a rock and cut away all that wasn't David."

In the Eastern world, they refer to false self and real self, I think there's a lot of truth there. Life is detaching from the false self, or allowing God to cut away all that isn't me, all that is sin, all that is not able to be united to Christ.

This week started rather poorly. Woke up Monday morning not feeling well. About a dozen little things went wrong right off the bat, like no eggs in the house when I really wanted scrambled eggs. Before you know it, I was venting and then getting criticized from everyone in the house, which didn't help a whole lot. I just wanted eggs!

Or did I? I gave up and took my shower, thinking what do I really want? Breakfast at the expense of ruining everyones morning, including mine? What I really want, what I really desire, is simple: Christ in me. But it's so easy to get off track, to follow this false self, the flesh, whatever is not me.

Almost 30 years ago when I was young(er), I wanted to do something great for God. Went to live in the inner city for 7 years, thought I'd be the next great missionary to the poor. Adopted 3 children. Made a few sacrifices. Somewhere along the way, like the fourth wiseman, it becomes apparent I may not do great things for God, not in the way I thought. Now, instead of doing great things for God, I simply want to be for the Great God. As he peels away another layer, another illusion of what I thought I had to "do" for Him, leaving me with only the ability to "be" for Him.

And I thank Him for it.

2007-08-28T14:53:00.000-07:00

Dear God: Do you hate me? Really, I have to ask on a day like this. Every time I think I may be getting over migraine headaches, here they come again. April, May, June and July were great, maybe one or two. So I wake up this morning with my third or fourth this month. The pain is excruciating, I feel so sick to my stomach I want to hurl. But why am I telling you this? You know it already.

So I take the pill, feel better in a couple hours but fight to stay awake all day. Until about 3:00 when I crack a tooth eating a snickers bar (to get a sugar high and say awake.) Every time I breath through my mouth or smile, my tooth screams! And alas, can't see the dentist till tomorrow.

That's okay, I have other problems tonight. Our son gets kicked off the high school soccer team for admitting getting high again. So he storms off angry, according to my wife. And I'll get to deal with his attitude, his drug problem (which he doesn't believe he has since he only gets high occasionally) and whatever else it brings.

Did I forget our 20 year old still in jail in Orlando facing drug charges?

So back to my question: do you really hate me? I should probably be struck with lightening for asking, but I read Psalm 88 the other day. Love that last line, "the darkness is my closest friend." Kinda how I feel right about now. Except inside I still get this thought that you are crazy in love with me still. Like when I was a teenager and that beautiful girl would laugh at you and tell you to get lost, but somehow you thought you still had a chance! What's up with that? Reality and faith just aren't jiving here.

So I look at an icon, at the cross, at an image of a heart and cross, and think about your passion. Oh yeah, you went through worse. And Jesus, you questioned the Fathers love too. How did you do it? Get nailed up there believing the whole time there was a purpose. No fair, you were God incarnate, I'm not! Where do I turn?

"The peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus." Phil 4:7

"For I am convinced that...(nothing)...will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord." Rom 8:39

"Oh the depths of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable his judgments, and his paths beyond tracing! Who has known the mind of the Lord? Or who has been his counselor? Who has ever given to God that God should repay him? For from him and through him and in him are all things. To him be the glory forever!" Rom 11:33-36

2007-08-24T01:07:00.000-07:00

Passion is a great word with a depth of meaning, but it has become one of the most overused corporate buzzwords of our day. It's right up there with synergy (have you ever heard someone use "synergy" in a sentence out of the workplace? Honey, I love the synergy of your twice baked potatos served with meat loaf.).

People have a 'passion' for their project, for their job, excuse me, career, a passion for training or leading. I had someone tell me they had a passion for the paperwork of opening new accounts. Okay, I drank the kool aid and may have used passion in an interview, but only in the context of what corporate America means by passion: something that is at least bearable, hopefully likeable, potentially enjoyable. If you win the lottery are you spending your day off this weekend working on another powerpoint? I didn't think so.

But real passion? I only have one: the pursuit of God. I love running half marathons, I love helping and serving others, I love tai chi, blogging, hiking, reading, hoping the Orlando Magic win the NBA title, but passion is saved for one. I do have a passion for my family and friends also, all because my love for them springs forth from the love of God.

The church has passion right. Passion is an almighty transcendent God so adoring of us, he becomes one of us, suffers at sinners hands dying a gruesome death, all the while demonstrating agape love to us: give beyond our means, show ridiculous love. go ahead and burn the candle of love at both ends, one for humanity and creations sake, the other for the loving Christ who so loves us.

As for everything else, the noise of life, the bells and whistles of ambition, desire, control, affection, esteem, power, security, pleasure, there is another word: dispassion, or apatehia. Apatheia today unfortunatley gets interpreted apathy, meaning I don't care. What it originally meant and should mean for us is clear, objective understanding. Instead of meaning "I don't care", it means my cares are in proper order and to the degree they should be. I am aware of my desires and so called 'passions', but I realize where they fall in the order of life. Clearly, they fall behind my real passion, the pursuit of God. And clearly behind the second great commandment, to love all as I love myself.

The welcome prayer is a great tool to remind myself of this. As things arise during the day, I return to where I was in prayer and meditation. I live mindfully, aware of the love of Christ, and reigning in my 'passions' accordingly.

"Welcome Holy Spirit. I let go of my desire for security/survival, affection/esteem, power/control. I let go of my desire to change this person or situation. I humbly accept your will in this present moment. And I adoringly accept your love. Welcome."

2007-08-06T18:55:00.000-07:00

Anyone who believes
God has no sense of humor
or play,
has never seen a puppy
chasing a butterfly
on a hot August day.

2007-07-29T01:44:00.000-07:00

"Sacred Heart of Jesus, I Adore You. Sacred Heart of Mary, Pray for Us."

I started praying this prayer back around Pascha. Hard to describe how it came about. Read about the sacred heart devotion, and it's stuck with me, really penetrated my soul. So I've been praying this every day. Interestingly, in the last 3 1/2 months, I've only had one migraine I couldn't blame on my own over exertion or over exercise.

"Nothing is more necessary than adoration." Got this from a Merton quote, he was quoting something called "rules for recluses." This line, like that Sacred Heart prayer I've been praying, just keeps coming back to me. It really is true. Contemplation is not the goal of contemplation. Centering prayer, mindfulness, meditation, all these things exist to bring us to an awareness of the Presence of Christ, with us right now in the present moment. And when we truly sense that in our hearts, we should be overcome with adoration. Even adoration isn't the end. That should bring us to praying "Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done." And so we return from the mountain or desert to the world to do Christ's will: love profously. That is the real goal of the Christian life. However we are human, so we can only love so much before our hearts need re-energized. How? Back to contemplation, silence, solitude, stillness...to bring us to adoration and restore our desire to do His will.

In a perfect place, one could do this simultaneously. Apparently Brother Lawrence, Mother Teresa, Mother Maria Skobtsova, and other saints could. But even the Desert Fathers and Mothers needed to retreat. Balance: that's what it's all about, figuring out the balance necessary for me to live my purpose.

This is what happens when one gets up at 3 in the morning and prays silently in the woods...

2007-07-26T19:02:00.000-07:00

Lord, I give you this day. Help me not to take it back. If I try, please forgive me. And thank you for everything it brings, especially yourself.

2007-05-28T07:17:00.000-07:00

I was sitting with a friend at a coffee shop yesterday after seeing a great movie, “Into Great Silence.” He made a comment that stuck with me and is pretty profound. We were talking about the different religious orders, some more contemplative, some very active, and he mentioned how one has to find their balance between the two. He spent some time with the Marians in Ohio and may return there, so he has some experience. The Marians balance between the active and contemplative life fit him very well.

But it’s not just in religious communities that we find this balance, it applies to lay people as well. My friend commented I would probably find the Carthusian Charterhouse, the subject of the movie we saw, almost like heaven. And he’s right! Now actually, I could never live their full time, even if in a different lifetime I didn’t have the commitments I have now. But I bet I’d be happy for a few days, weeks, maybe months. Most people I know would probably go stir crazy in that environment within hours, or at least a day or two. Just like for me, never taking time for contemplative practice, or going a day without at least 20-30 minutes for silent prayer, drives me crazy.

This whole balance thing, there is a real key to happiness in it. Tai Chi is about balance too. We sink into ourselves, and root into the ground below us. We allow chi, or energy, to flow from our tantien, the center of balance and energy in our bodies. We move slowly, mystically, breathing as we do our meditation in motion. Jesus said of those who have faith and the Holy Spirit “out of their belly will flow streams of living water.” Our modern versions translate that heart, since the Western world considers the heart the center of being. In Eastern thought, it is the belly, or the tantien.

It seems this is saying if we find our balance, our center of being, and live our lives according to the balance deigned for us between active and contemplative, we will find peace. This peace is not freedom from conflict, but far greater: allowing those streams of living water (peace) to flow from us and through us.

I came across a great meditation, or prayer, from author Stephen Levine this week. At first I thought the word “I” was used a little too much. But when I thought about it, “I” (you—we) can’t bring peace to others, unless we first have it ourselves. And if we are achieving new balance, or inner peace, it will naturally flow from us to others. Our new balance of inner peace is not the same as pleasure or happiness for our own sake. It is agape, other centered. First we find the balance necessary in our contemplative heart to acquire peace, then the balance to share it actively with others.

“May I dwell in the heart, may I be free of suffering, may I be healed, may I be at peace.”
Stephen Levine, “Healing Into Life and Death”, Anchor, 1989.

2007-03-11T05:05:00.000-07:00

Dawn in the woods has to be the closest thing to heaven on earth. Morning awakening in my woods, sitting in my back yard on the bench facing east, is one the most beautiful experiences I've had. Especially Sunday mornings. Virtually silent of humanity's noise. An occasional car going by. Birds chirping everywhere, a cacophony of symphonic praise. I can almost hear the viola's, trombones, flutes and drums warming up! The red tailed hawk screeches and looms for breakfast. A small flock of Canadian geese do a flyover. A woodpecker knocks away at a tree trunk. In the distance, a train whistle enters the audio horizon. A labrador retriever crunches across frozen leaves. The birds sing louder. This morning is truly silent, not a silence from absence of noise, but absent of demanding distraction. Simply mindful sounds of real silence.

I breathe spring, and I breathe the last vestiges of winter saying it's goodbye. Cool, dry air fills my lungs as I taste the day beginning. Darkness is passing, the light is already shining. Only small rings of snow exist, their companions melting into nourishment for March daffodils, Aprils grass, and hostas breaking forth in May. The trees remain the same, the same as they appeared since November. But inside each tree, life is busy preparing foliage for the world to rejoice. Next Octobers back wrenching chores await somewhere in those trees, a chore I joyfully perform in humble homage to the cycles of life. The trees aren't going anywhere. They didn't mind the snow, the ice, the bitter cold. Summers insects will have to wait, but never un-nerve a tree. The trees stand as reminders of perfect detachment, embracing each and every season.

It is morning. It is almost spring. It is time passing, coming and going, seamless in sharing life to the next stanza.

2007-03-06T06:38:00.000-08:00

I cut my morning (pick your label here) prayer/meditation/quiet time/contemplative/centering prayer short a few minutes this morning. I was falling asleep during it, quite unusual in the mornings. The Doans PM pill I took for my sore back must be pretty strong. Just didn't feel like a spiritual thing to do, end my prayer early 4 or 5 minutes. In fact, "felt" very unspiritual.

So I continued by doing something else very unspiritual; definitely unOrthodox, un Orthodox enough I post it here rather than my (label creating attachment coming) Orthodox blog. There was enough for one last glass of chocolate milk in the fridge. Since I haven't had any milk, ice cream or milk shakes in now over 2 1/2 weeks, I felt unspiritual enough to endulge myself even though we are in the middle of Lent. So I sat down in front of our large window looking out over the woods, sipping this wonderfully tasting glass of chocolate milk.

I stopped being spiritual, or rather, stopped trying to be spiritual. I just sat and looked, sipped and tasted. The woods are gorgeous, each season has a beauty of it's own. The house itself is old and quirky, we think about moving, but how could we give up this acre of heavenly woods? The snow is melting everywhere. My labyrinth trail is visible again. So are the icons. I can even make out the icon of the Theotokos next to the bench, all the way from here in the house. Still piles of snow from where I hurt my back shoveling weeks ago.

Another sip, another glance. That was cool sitting here yesterday before going to Cincinnati for Tai Chi. Before I left, 3 large deer showed up in these woods. I sat and watched them for about 15 minutes. One came all the way up into the driveway, much to the dismay of our 3 dogs, barking and whining loudly to get out. I made them quiet down and just watch with me doing nothing about it. Like I'm doing now, nothing, non-doing. Not praying, not meditating, not reading spiritual books or being spiritual, just sitting, being observant, having another sip of chocolate milk. What a blessing to see deer in my own back yard.

With the snow peeling and melting back, I can see some barely green grass underneath for the first time in weeks. Lots of leaves still in the woods too. The squirrels are getting adventurous, coming down out of the trees to dig for food. The deer are nibbling on what's left of the vinca, a vine (some label an invasive weed) I like having as groundcover. The squirrels and deer get along fine. My dogs get even more agitated seeing the squirrels. That was cool seeing wildlife in my back yard.

The glass is almost empty. I poured my chocolate milk in a glass I got from one of my favorite runs in Florida, the Gate River Run 15k in Jacksonville. What an awesome run! Beautiful spring day, lots of runners, always a little bit cool in J-ville in March. And that massive bridge to go over in the 8th mile. I remember Shawn, Jaron and Greg running it with me once. Lord, bless Shawn, Jaron and Greg. And all runners seeking peace.

Tai chi was great last night. It's kind of peaceful driving 2 hours to Cincinnati, and worth every minute of it, I should go more than once every 6 months. Ralph is a great teacher of the yang style. What a prayerful time driving home last night! I planned to stop at a rest area to meditate/pray/center/Psalm, but ate an apple instead. Slowly, taking in every bite, enjoying the sound of the cars and trucks flying by. Kind of like now, just being present to the moment. Not fighting memories and thoughts and images, just letting them go, as slowly and gently as they came.

The sun is really up now, coming up over the garage. Bright, sunny, wonderfully cool morning. The chocolate milk is done, I truly enjoyed every tasty sip. I don't think I've ever been more mindful drinking milk.

Maybe tomorrow morning I'll be spiritual again.

2006-12-24T08:01:00.000-08:00

Random ponderings on a tired morning.

Ahimsa: I love this term, this thought. Doing no harm to others. I'm sure the deepest meaning is love, compassion, giving, serving. But in an apophatic way of moral theology, take it at what it says: do no harm. So I'm a lousy father, husband, worker, faster, Orthodox Christian, etc. I can sit in my loft when it's 30 degrees out, and just sit. Call it meditate, pray, whatever; I didn't hurt anyones feelings sitting there freezing, I didn't piss anyone off, I didn't hurt the environment, I didn't rape, pillage, steal, lie, kidnap, I didn't go to Liturgy this morning but I didn't argue with wife and kids about getting ready, what to wear, why are we going, etc. I sat. I prayed. I thought of God.

Humility: Read Anthony Blooms "Beginning to Pray." He talks about humility, how it comes from humus, which means the earth, the ground. What a great analogy. As the ground soaks up rain, snow, refuse, trash, pounding, mistreatment, and just takes it, absorbs it, and returns life, so should we.

The sun was shining into the southern window, creating beams of light. I saw tiny, miniscule dust particles floating around. Invisible to the naked eye. Doing nothing. Being humble dust particles practicing ahimsa in the loft. But at a certain angle, in a moment of time, they would reflect the sunlights beams and shine like a star in the heavens. They are what we create them to be in our minds: miserable dust particles, or shining stars in the heavens.

Thank you Lord for abiding within. God is in that loft, in those dust particles, in the sunbeam, in the freezing cold (my toes especially), in the silence, in the solitude. Sure, he's at Liturgy in the Eucharist. But he's within also.

Miserable little consolations of God. When I first read this term in "Seeds of Contemplation" by Merton a few years ago, I put the book down mid chapter and didn't read it for several days. I was scandalized by it. How can you call a gift of God, the awareness of His presence, a miserable little consolation? He was talking about detachment. I started reading this book again this week, and now I know. They can be miserable little consolations if we mistake them for the real thing. The real thing, the real purpose of contemplation is not a contemplative moment. It is realizing every moment, and especially the present moment, is God, is nada, is life, is contemplation. Celebrate the present moment by accepting God's will in peace and joy. Obedience in the present moment.

"Do nothing out of selfish amibition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves. Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others. Your attitude should be the same of Christ Jesus, who being in very nature God did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearence as a man he humbled himself and became obedient to death, even death on a cross."

Time to go back in. Time to walk away from miserable little consolations. Time to open presents, eat lots of food, watch dogs play and fight, play and fight ourselves, and try to do no harm.

2006-08-05T14:18:00.000-07:00

I'm trying to take more time to ponder...just ponder. To stop and observe, listen, touch, take in whatever the moment around me brings. The desert fathers say "a monk should be like the seraphim: all eyes." I think we all should be like that: observant; paying attention to what is happening around us. Some ponderings from a recent Saturday at home...

I was walking in my labyrinth/woods/meditative garden this morning with my prayer rope. Unfortunately Lady Gator was with me and she happened to find a rubber ball. She kept bringing it to me, dropping it at my feet, begging me to play fetch. So I threw it, she sprinted after it, and sprinted back with it. Again, and again, and again. She is so fixated on chasing things. It's like it's more than a game, her life depends on it! So as the game goes (I'm learning to ponder and take in the moment, prayer can wait) she starts anticipating where the ball will go. One time I throw it, she turns away and runs the wrong direction, and can't find it. For the next 5 or 1o minutes she scoures an acre, looking for that ball. She sniffs me thinking I'm hiding it. Finally she stumbles upon it by accident. Is that me? Do I try and anticipate where God is leading and end up lost thinking He is playing a bad joke on me? I get frustrated when things aren't as I perceive they should? Is that me searching and searching for inner peace in contemplation, and in exasperation I stumble upon the contemplative moment with no idea how I got there?

On a hike at Ft. Ben, I stop to look at a huge spider web glistening in the morning sun. I could have stayed quite a while but someone with me is impatient. Amazing how precise and fantastic this web is. What a creation!

Things that make you go hmmmmm....after mowing the grass I'm sitting on the bench in my front garden, the one with a couple dozen hostas and a statue of St. Francis. A hummingbird lands on a paw paw tree limb next to St. Francis looking for food. I say (yes, out loud) "hummingbird, there's a feeder for you in the back yard." The hummingbird flies off over the top of the house. I have to get up and go see, and sure enough as I come around the side of the house...the hummingbird is at our hummingbird feeder drinking nectar. Hmmmmm....St. Francis?

I glance over at a small napkin from a Northwest Airlines flight from May. I can't throw it out, as I have something written on it and like it catching my attention every day at the computer. "Celebrate the present moment by accepting God's will in peace and joy."

2006-07-20T07:27:00.000-07:00

"3 primary propositions of the Christian Faith:

"1. God is all powerful.

2. God is loving.

3. Terrible things happen.

You can reconcile any two of the above propositions, but you can never reconcile all three."
Quote of Frederick Buechner I came across.

So here's my take. If forced to do so, we have to accept the first two. I can't accept that God is not all powerful. I can't accept God is not loving. Therefore either #3 is incorrect, or we have to adjust our perception of suffering (terrible things happening).

Reading Jean-Pierre de Caussade might be influencing my thoughts on this, not to mention 46 years of personal experience. From my perspective, terrible things do happen: losing our first child, my Dad dying tragically, Alzheimers killing my mother, raising a bipolar son....etc. But if I can leap high enough to get a 40,000 foot view of life....Divine Providence. Like the hip cliche I hear my teens saying, "It's all good, it's all good."

This isnt' meant to be a trite statement. It's not meant to be some pollyanna theology to make someone feel better when they hurt, including me. But there is a truth there I believe. God is all powerful. God is loving. And he knows what he's doing, far more than what I can imagine. So I accept what I consider terrible things. Not neccesarily without complaining or questioning. But in the end, I have to come back to accepting all 3 propositions. The latter by experience, and the first two by faith when I don't feel like believing them.

2006-06-06T16:46:00.000-07:00

Obituaries---May 30th, 2006
Douglas Clardy 47, Indianapolis, died Tue., May 23, 2006. Services: 11 a.m. Wed., May 31 at Lavenia, Smith & Summers Home for Funerals, with calling there one hour prior to service.

I first met Douglas a few months ago when I started volunteering with a group that helps the homeless. We drive around to places where the homeless hang out and give out blankets, hot soup, PBJ sandwiches, and whatever we happen to have that night. The first time I went out I met Douglas and talked to him for quite a while. He seemed a nice enough fellow and was very appreciative for all we did. He especially liked the soup!

Two weeks ago on one of our runs, a group of homeless men told us "Red" (as Douglas was known) was dead. Apparently a few nights before he got into an argument with someone else at their "camp" and the other man punched him hard enough to knock him down. Red hit his head on the concrete and was killed. The guys we talked to all felt bad, both for Red and the man that hit him.

Of course, a homeless man known to be often inebriated, dying in a fight, didn't make headline news. Not when we have Brangelina, and TomKat, and American Idol. And life or death issues like "defending marriage" against gays who are out to destroy America (tongue firmly in cheek here folks).

While I was stuck at a light in downtown traffic today, I saw a homeless man on the corner. He had no shirt on, was very unkempt, and was talking very loudly to himself, making gestures and yelling. Obviously he had mental problems. A couple of guys in a truck next to me began to laugh, and cuss at the mans plight. They got a real kick out of him.

And so I wondered....which is worse? The sad state of the homeless man, the sad state of those who find that funny, or the sad state of my apathetic soul that doesn't do enough to alleviate suffering for the homeless?

I miss Douglas Clardy. Lord, grant eternal rest to his soul.

2006-05-23T08:06:00.000-07:00

"If the only prayer you say in your life is "thank you", that would suffice." Meister Eckhart

I think this is one of the 5 most profound quotes I've ever heard. (Maybe I'll blog about the other 4 sometime.) As a little child, I was taught the importance of gratefulness, but as an adult, I learn more and more every day just how significant gratitude is. In fact, it may be the highest virtue.

I'm not thinking of the usual quick 'thank you' we blurt out to people in a hurry. Or a recited prayer at a meal, usually without thinking much of the words we're saying (yes, I'm a sinner, I do this regularly, maybe you don't.) Or the obligitory thank you card for a gift.

I'm thinking more how a true saint shows gratitude. Like Charles DeFoucauld giving up riches, reputation, everything to live his life a hermit in the Saharan desert. St. Mary of Egypt doing the same thing after converting from prostitution to the true faith. St. Herman of Alaska, already a celibate cloistered Russian Orthodox monk, moving thousands of miles to the frozen tundra of Alaska to bring the gospel to native Americans, and defend them against oppression.

So how do I show gratitude to God for his ridiculously awesome love and mercy to me? I complain. I whine. I expect more, from God and from life. And the little good I do, all because of his grace, I reach around and pat myself on the back, expecting others to notice.

This morning I had one of those contemplative moments where all this becomes clear again. It's been over 4 months since I got laid off. I've had a couple declinations on jobs, countless resumes emailed to black holes, and staffing executives hiding like children from my phone calls. And while I've been accused of being paranoid too much, I agree with Andy Grove: just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they are not out to get you. Thinking of all this got me headed towards a nice little mini pity party.

Back to my contemplative moment. So at Keystone in the Crossing early this morning for an appointment, I went for a mile long walk around a beautiful lake. The weather here in May is perfect: cool, not too cold or hot, gorgeous flowers everywhere, the sun rising in the perfectly blue sky, birds softly chirping, a distant din of the highway, flavoring an otherwise silent and simple walk in solitude. And through the beauty of it all, I realize how much I have to be thankful for: family, friends, health, provision, love, life, my lovely wife, beauty, splendor, children, sounds, sights, faith, God's word, God's Spirit, God's glory, God's peace, God's presence, God.

And for the next 20 minutes around the lake I take in the majesty of life and recite one of my favorite short arrow prayers: thank you Lord for everything you've given, everything you've done, and everything you are.

2006-05-09T05:33:00.000-07:00

"I love you" says the Lord, as silhouettes of deer scamper across the morning dew, barely visible in the early light of dawn.

"I love you" says the Almighty, as a bright red cardinal perches upon a tree limb outside our clear window.

"I love you" says the Creator, as the bright orange sun bursts through the horizon to introduce another new day.

"I love you" says the Father, as my family arises to busy about another school and work day, sharing and resting in his Love.

"I love you" says God, as a racoon peers through the neighbors picket fence, and climbs her way to return to her dwelling and rest.

"I love you" says the Spirit, as a small flock of geese fly overhead and swoop to a landing near a crysal clear pond.

"I love you" says the Son, as the Priest holds high the sacrifice of his body and blood, shed to reveal his love to all.

As I revel in this abundance of love, I wonder how I could possibly say I love you in return.

O Lord, help me to abandon myself to you in the simplicity of the present moment of this wonderful day.

2006-04-15T06:45:00.000-07:00

"Devote yourselves to prayer, being watchful and thankful."

Think of a loved one, your dearest most loved,most faithful friend you've ever had. Maybe your sister, your brother, your husband/wife/significant other, your son or daughter, your mom or dad. The person who's always been there for you. The person you would definitely take a bullet for, give them everything you own, and walk a thousand miles to see. Say they tell you they are going on a trip, a long trip to a distant continent. They will be gone at least a year or two before you'll see them. Your only contact will be by mail, old fashioned snail mail.

The year turns into 3, then 4, then 5. You write each other every week, faithfully. Your letters are long, and full of emotion, passion and love. The 5 years turns into 10. You yearn to see your loved one again, you can't believe it's been this long. Your life has changed significantly in that time: births, deaths, new jobs, new houses, new everything. So has their's. But the one constant you have is each other. In a strange way, this distance has solidified this relationship. It is by far your strongest, the anchor in your life. You wonder how you would survive without waiting for Saturdays mail when you get their letter.

18 years have now passed. You have almost a thousand letters from them you've kept in a growing stack of shoeboxes in your closet! To this day, they are your dearest, nearest loved one. They are a part of you. And this Saturdays letter is the best: they are coming home and will be back around Friday. Due to their long travel and lack of communication, they can't tell you exactly. But they want you to meet them at Monument Circle, their best guess would be Friday around 3. They could be late, maybe 4 or 5 or late that evening. And there's always a chance things fall into place and they get there at 2. But their advice is be there around 3 for your long awaited reunion. Now picture this reunion, them getting out of a car, the hug, the embrace, the kisses!

So where are you going to be at 1:00 on Friday? How early are you going to be there?

2006-03-21T05:26:00.000-08:00

"I will hear what the Lord God will say, for he will speak peace to his people, to his saints, to those who turn to him in their hearts." from Psalm 85

The picture of journeying, of seeking, of movement from one place to another, has always resonated with me. Some of my favorite stories have that theme. The Fourth Wiseman, where Martin Sheen's character spends a lifetime seeking Christ, in a way he thinks necessary yet ultimately seems futile, only to find in the end he has always been with Him. In The Rabbit Proof Fence, three little aborigine girls traverse a thousand miles by foot to return to their homes. In The Way of a Pilgrim, a man devotes his life to wandering the Russian countryside in hopes of finding spiritual direction.

In my own life, my long distance running seems to be a picture of what is going on inside. Whether I'm running 13 miles, 26.2, or something in between, along the way I find the journey is truly the goal, not the finish line. The finish line is only a temporary stop until another beginning to a new journey.

The nation of Israel wandered for 40 years in the desert. Much of that wandering was their own fault due to their disbelieving, but still they would have journeyed. Philip in the book of Acts travels wherever the Spirit leads him. In each of our own hearts, I think the Spirit still leads us today on a journey.

The spiritual life can be summed up in this aspect of journey, of seeking. What we are called to do, day by day, moment by moment, is to turn our hearts to Christ. To the Christ of the Church, to the real presence of Christ in the Eucharist, and to the Spirit of Christ within each of us. We may travel many distances, and many different places looking to find inner peace. But ultimately it is only found within us, in the Spirit of God that has been born in each of us. Yet the human heart can be deceptive, it can move and gyrate and twist itself in new directions. Which leads us to always return again to the center, to the Spirit of Christ. And in a journey of silence and solitude, we turn again to that Spirit within.

2006-02-02T05:32:00.000-08:00

A crow spoke to me this morning. Or maybe it was the voice of God. I was walking into mass, just outside the church in the parking lot. A solitary crow flew overhead, it's silhoutte shining against the dull, gray winter sky on a February morning. Its voice was unmistakable, and loud. What's interesting is how what he (or she, I'm not good at crow gender recognition) said related to what I've been reading.

I started reading "Sometimes Enough is Enough" by Marsha Sinetar the other day. She writes some great stuff on the contemplative life. I've been picking up some ideas on contemplative practices to add to my prayer life. This morning, my 30 minutes of quiet time in prayer was pretty unremarkable. One of those days where a lot of thoughts get in the way. By the end of the time, you're wondering was it even prayer or worth it. But I've been at it long enough you stay with the time, and keep turning your heart, your desire, back to God after or with the distracting thoughts. It's all about intention.

Back to the crow and his comments. So I'm walking into mass from the parking lot on a cold dark morning. I can't quote him exactly, but it was something to the effect of "hey moron, here I am up here. How many times do I have to tell you that you can't create a contemplative moment, you can't manufacture spiritual consolation from the Holy Spirit. Are you deaf? You keep thinking it's all about your little paradigms, your practices and disciplines. That's why I hide from you sometimes. And then show up in a squawking crow in the sky. To show you I reveal myself when I want, how I want. But you did do one thing right: you had the desire, you wanted to see me, to hear me. And when I hid, you kept looking. It's all about intention."

Funny, Marsha said the same thing basically.

2006-01-28T06:53:00.000-08:00

I thought all dogs hated a leash. Mine is different. Our two year old Chocolate Lab, Lady Gator, goes nuts when I pull the leash out. She literally jumps in the air repeatedly, her tail going 90 miles an hour, instantly whining in delight. She knocks over shoes from the shoe rack near the door, and jumps on the door. Finally, she calms down long enough for me to put the leash on her collar, then it's off to the races outside!

It's not really the leash she loves, that's a Pavlovian response. Her real love is what that leash means: she is going for a long walk around the neighborhood or to the state park. The leash itself is a distraction, and probably annoying to her. The few times I'll take her somewhere that she can run without it, the better.

"Come to me all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give your rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light." These words from Jesus talk about the leash I must wear, that is his yoke. A yoke has several meanings. It is a tool to make a draft animal work harder and more efficiently. It is a sign placed on a defeated enemy to humiliate them. And it is a way to share a burden between two parties, in equal measure.

Modern Christianity has denied the need in our lives for suffering, pain, and discipline. Who wants to desire those? Yet it is not for themselves that we desire them, but for the result they bring: a holy life united to Christ. We shouldn't look for pain and suffering, I know enough comes my way on it's own. But when Christ offers us his yoke, it isn't to punish us, or humiliate us, it really is so he can share our burden.

That is the beautiful part of the incarnation. God becomes man so that man may become God. By taking his yoke, and yes it is painful at times, we get the ultimate goal: union with God.

I was reading Catherine of Sienna last night, a few hours after another explosion of emotion at home from one of our teenagers. Catherine talked about how we want to schedule our own ascesis, or discipline. How prideful we are to trust ourselves for our spiritual growth. Instead, when pain or suffering, or emotional teenage outbursts, or gettig laid off from our job, or so many other things; when they come our way, we should see them as Christ' yoke, reaching out to take us on a journey to a destination that will be worth the effort.

If only I could see the yoke Christ calls me to, as Lady Gator sees her leash.

2006-01-23T16:23:00.000-08:00

I have searched for most of my adult life to learn to pray. I have prayed so that I may find God. And the longer I search, the more I pray, the more elusive God becomes it seems.

I remember when U2 first came out with the song "I still haven't found what I'm looking for." I remember having a conversation with an evangelical friend at the time. U2 (and myself) considered that a gospel song. The friend protested, surely it couldn't be. For Christians couldn't say that, we have found what we are looking for.

There is a truth to his statement, but also much truth to the song. As an evangelical, I thought conversion was the end. In truth, it is just the beginning, the beginning of a great journey. I am on the path, the way to the end, but the journey doesn't end, at least not in this lifetime.

And so I pray. And I continue to pray. To seek the hidden God. And I learn prayer is a relationship, a relationship of love, of seeking, of finding, of seeking again.

2006-01-23T16:17:00.000-08:00

O the depths of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable his judgments and his paths beyond tracing! Who has known the mind of the Lord? And who has been his counselor? Who has ever given to God that God should repay him? For from him, and through him, and to him are all things To him be the glory forever, amen! Romans 11:33-36.