Silence.

In Silence

Be still.

Listen to the stones of the wall.

Be silent, they try

To speak your

Name.

Listen

To the living walls.

Who are you?

Who

Are you? Whose

Silence are you?

Who (be quiet)

Are you (as these stones

Are quiet). Do not

Think of what you are

Still less of

What you may one day be.

Rather

Be what you are (but who?) be

The unthinkable one

You do not know.

O be still, while

You are still alive,

And all things live around you

Speaking (I do not hear)To your own being,

Speaking by the Unknown

That is in you and in themselves.

“I will try, like them

To be my own silence:

And this is difficult. The whole

World is secretly on fire. The stones

Burn, even the stones

They burn me. How can a man be still or

Listen to all things burning? How can he dare

To sit with them

When all their silence

Is on fire?”

~ Thomas Merton ~

First-day was particularly trying for me this week. We had a heat problem in the meetinghouse, and we never as a group seemed to decide whether to try to fix the problem or sit in silence. As the problem seemed to be attended to by people who knew what they were doing, I chose to sit, although the cold got to all of us soon and we abbreviated the meeting.

I've been doing a lot of thinking about my own silence. Technically, this whole Spiritual path for me has been about finding my own way, my own journey, and one day in a cold meetinghouse that's too chatty shouldn't matter. It was my expectations that got me in trouble - I expected after a long week to have silence and Spirit and calm, and even in in our social time afterwards I kept getting interrupted and could not hold a meaningful conversation. Thus I left frustrated and angry.

I have been fortunate this year to have carved out some contemplative space and time almost every day. Often, it has been at the meetinghouse. But perhaps that is too "easy" a solution sometimes - spiritual place, Spirit happens. If I am able to carry that peace inside, I should find it wherever I go. Good to consider for the week.

Next week I travel to another meeting, held not in a meetinghouse at all. I will meet new people, and hear of new joys and concerns. In the meantime, I have work commitments this week, a difficult interaction with schooling issues for my daughter, and some eating/lifestyle changes that will take some getting used to. Committee meetings seem to fill the next few weeks as well. Plenty of time to see if I can find and preserve that peaceful space through all the mayhem.

Habits.

(from: Cast All Your Votes For Dancing)

I know the voice of depression

Still calls to you.

I know those habits that can ruin your life

Still send their invitations.

But you are with the Friend now

And look so much stronger.

You can stay that way

And even bloom!

~ Hafiz ~

Been thinking a lot about new year's resolutions this morning. I guess it is the time for that, January 2nd and all... sometimes my strongest resolutions are those that invite me to revisit them daily. Being a good parent, good partner, good friend. Seeing the good in others around me. Daily and constant reminders that do indeed become the "good" habits I need to cultivate. Sometimes it is not in the BIG decisions where we find the magic and space and love for each other on the planet - it is in the little moments. I am resolving this year to become even more aware of those smaller moments, for in them is where I see the "big picture" of my life most clearly!

Each of us inevitable,
Each of us limitless --
Each of us with his or her
right upon the earth,
Each of us allow'd
the eternal purports
of the earth,
Each of us here
as divinely as any is here.

Walt Whitman

A Ritual To Read To Each Other - again.

If you don't know the kind of person I am
and I don't know the kind of person you are
a pattern that others made may prevail in the world
and following the wrong god home we may miss our star.

For there is many a small betrayal in the mind,
a shrug that lets the fragile sequence break
sending with shouts the horrible errors of childhood
storming out to play through the broken dyke.

And as elephants parade holding each elephant's tail,
but if one wanders the circus won't find the park,
I call it cruel and maybe the root of all cruelty
to know what occurs but not recognize the fact.

And so I appeal to a voice, to something shadowy,
a remote important region in all who talk:
though we could fool each other, we should consider--
lest the parade of our mutual life get lost in the dark.

For it is important that awake people be awake,
or a breaking line may discourage them back to sleep;
the signals we give--yes or no, or maybe--
should be clear: the darkness around us is deep.

William Stafford

Deep pondering of a way not yet open for me tonight. I find myself in a little space with which to think, a little more free time tomorrow, and I must try to wait and see what happens. How do we know when to wait, and when to act?

Talk Talk Talk

I had a very involved day today, visiting with F/friends, discussing my spiritual state of affairs ad infinitum.

How often does the mere act of being listened to help and support our growth? I didn't really get any "advice" today specifically. I did hear many stories of others' ways forward and openings. Perhaps not applicable in all ways, but gems of hope in their successes.

I've been doing a lot of thinking about perceptions this week. I shared some observations with a friend and they were "taken the wrong way" - or so I thought. Perhaps his insights into my words challenged me to new directions. I can't really assume there is any "wrong" way - the way my words rest in another's heart reflect that person's sensibilities more than my own. It was a careful reminder to me of how often we shut down those avenues of listening, as we consider not only what is being said, but its "truth" as we know it. Finding Truth, not just "truth" - is so much harder! I was upset by the news of this - and still am, but more so to think that my words could have hurt another who has been kind to me. Again, all about me. As so much is these days. This stretching/thinking/growing is hard work. I'm trying now to get out of my head and make so little about me - as I wake to new possibilities, an upcoming week of helping and considering others might be exactly what I need.... (oops, me again!)

The Waking

I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.
I learn by going where I have to go.

We think by feeling. What is there to know?
I hear my being dance from ear to ear.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

Of those so close beside me, which are you?
God bless the Ground! I shall walk softly there,
And learn by going where I have to go.

Light takes the Tree; but who can tell us how?
The lowly worm climbs up a winding stair;
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

Great Nature has another thing to do
To you and me, so take the lively air,
And, lovely, learn by going where to go.

This shaking keeps me steady. I should know.
What falls away is always. And is near.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I learn by going where I have to go.

~ Theodore Roethke ~

(The Collected Poems of Theodore Roethke)

When the Shoe Fits

Ch'ui the draftsman
Could draw more perfect circles freehand
Than with a compass.

His fingers brought forth
Spontaneous forms from nowhere. His mind
Was meanwhile free and without concern
With what he was doing.

No application was needed
His mind was perfectly simple
And knew no obstacle.

So, when the shoe fits
The foot is forgotten,
When the belt fits
The belly is forgotten,
When the heart is right
"For" and "against" are forgotten.

No drives no compulsions,
No needs, no attractions:
Then your affairs
Are under control.
You are a free man.

Easy is right. Begin right
And you are easy.
Continue easy and you are right.
The right way to go easy
Is to forget the right way
And forget that the going is easy.

~ Chuang Tzu ~

(In the Dark Before Dawn, trans. Thomas Merton)

Praying

It doesn't have to be

the blue iris, it could be

weeds in a vacant lot, or a few

small stones; just

pay attention, then patch

a few words together and don't try

to make them elaborate, this isn't

a contest but the doorway

into thanks, and a silence in which

another voice may speak.

~ Mary Oliver ~

The Book About You

The book that tells about you slumps in the library
Somewhere in the medical section. It is vague at first
but then detailed: you are hopeless and not even interesting.
Cases like yours routine through hospitals, especially
in slum districts. By the end of the book, you are dead
one-third of the time but live a useful life
occasionally if treated early. One patient
in Calcutta lived fifteen years. Softly you close
the book and push back. You walk past the travel section
and the mysteries and romances. At the door you turn for a glance:
they have established a new shelf- pay books. The librarian
is watching you. You spread your hands, go out
the quiet door, and stand there enjoying the sun.
There are days like this for everyone. Somebody else
Will put the book back. Strangely- one of the symptoms?-
you feel like singing.

-William Stafford

Bach and beyond

Well, I have not been blogging, but I have certainly been writing in my journal, and collecting little food for thought along the way as well. Bach Mass in b minor was this weekend. I can't really put into words just yet how important and well-timed this whole experience was for me.

I spent this semester learning and struggling with my fellow choristers with a piece of music that creates in me when I hear it some sort of transcendent spiritual experience that cannot, or should not, be described. When I have left rehearsals I've often had classical music playing in my car on the drive home - and I hear it differently after singing Bach's music. I am suddenly more aware of the interplay between the parts, the overall composer's intent. This interplay isn't just musical - this semester I have been aware (painfully, at times) of the interplay between the people I encounter.

The query in meeting spoke to me directly this week - it was in part a quote from George Fox:

Be patterns, be examples in all countries, places, islands, nations, wherever you come; that your carriage and life may preach among all sorts of people, and to them. Then you will come to walk cheerfully over the world, answering that of God in everyone." - George Fox, 1624-1691

Do I walk cheerfully in a world that is not at all a cheerful place at times, much to my dismay? Do I take the time not to be overwhelmed, and to remember that although I may struggle with my role on the planet and in the "big picture", I can certainly project goodness and light in my attitude in my own way whenever possible?

I had many a small moment of tremendous insight, this weekend alone. So much that I am still grappling with the sorting out of it all. But perhaps just knowing I still have the ability to change the way I see the world around me is the first step towards changing the rest.

William Stafford, as usual, says it best:


When I Met My Muse

I glanced at her and took my glasses
off--they were still singing. They buzzed
like a locust on the coffee table and then
ceased. Her voice belled forth, and the
sunlight bent. I felt the ceiling arch, and
knew that nails up there took a new grip
on whatever they touched. "I am your own
way of looking at things," she said. "When
you allow me to live with you, every
glance at the world around you will be
a sort of salvation." And I took her hand.

A Ritual To Read To Each Other

If you don't know the kind of person I am
and I don't know the kind of person you are
a pattern that others made may prevail in the world
and following the wrong god home we may miss our star.

For there is many a small betrayal in the mind,
a shrug that lets the fragile sequence break
sending with shouts the horrible errors of childhood
storming out to play through the broken dyke.

And as elephants parade holding each elephant's tail,
but if one wanders the circus won't find the park,
I call it cruel and maybe the root of all cruelty
to know what occurs but not recognize the fact.

And so I appeal to a voice, to something shadowy,
a remote important region in all who talk:
though we could fool each other, we should consider--
lest the parade of our mutual life get lost in the dark.

For it is important that awake people be awake,
or a breaking line may discourage them back to sleep;
the signals we give--yes or no, or maybe--
should be clear: the darkness around us is deep.

William Stafford

Messages

A Message from Space

Everything that happens is the message:
you read an event and be one and wait,
like breasting a wave, all the while knowing
by living, though not knowing how to live.

Or workers built an antenna -- a dish
aimed at stars -- and they themselves are its message,
crawling in and out, being worlds that loom,
dot-dash, and sirens, and sustaining beams.

And sometimes no one is calling but we turn up
eye and ear -- suddenly we fall into
sound before it begins, the breathing
so still it waits there under the breath --

And then the green of leaves calls out, hills
where they wait or turn, clouds in their frenzied
stillness unfolding their careful words:
"Everything counts. The message is the world."

~ William Stafford ~

I've been reflecting quite a bit on messages. I guess this whole Quaker practice of vocal ministry reframed my thinking a bit, although I'm one of those people who tends to look for a message in everything, thus my probably reflections this week. I've been trying to lean into my life a bit more and just figure out what message it holds for me. Why so much consternation regarding a job that is probably not a true vocation, at least not where I find myself now? Is it the final letting go of previous images of myself? Why do I seek to define this situation in terms of old paradigms?

Parker Palmer talks often not of "way opening", but "way closing". And something does have to close in order for something else to open. So that's where I am today. Watching. Waiting. Trying to greet all this change and the chaos that follows with an open heart so I don't miss the message.