Ask Me, William Stafford

Some time when the river is ice ask me
mistakes I have made. Ask me whether
what I have done is my life. Others
have come in their slow way into
my thought, and some have tried to help
or to hurt: ask me what difference
their strongest love or hate has made.

I will listen to what you say.
You and I can turn and look
at the silent river and wait. We know
the current is there, hidden; and there
are comings and goings from miles away
that hold the stillness exactly before us.
What the river says, that is what I say.

West Branch of The Penobscot, February 2019

Sweetness by Stephen Dunn

Just when it has seemed I couldn’t bear 
   one more friend 
waking with a tumor, one more maniac 

with a perfect reason, often a sweetness 
   has come 
and changed nothing in the world 

except the way I stumbled through it, 
   for a while lost 
in the ignorance of loving 

someone or something, the world shrunk 
   to mouth-size, 
hand-size, and never seeming small. 

I acknowledge there is no sweetness 
   that doesn’t leave a stain, 
no sweetness that’s ever sufficiently sweet …. 

Tonight a friend called to say his lover 
   was killed in a car 
he was driving. His voice was low 

and guttural, he repeated what he needed 
   to repeat, and I repeated 
the one or two words we have for such grief 

until we were speaking only in tones. 
   Often a sweetness comes 
as if on loan, stays just long enough 

to make sense of what it means to be alive, 
   then returns to its dark 
source. As for me, I don’t care 

where it’s been, or what bitter road 
   it’s traveled 
to come so far, to taste so good.

wrestling with God

“Do you still wrestle with the devil, Father Makários?” I asked him.

“Not any longer, my child. I have grown old now, and he has grown old with me. He doesn’t have the strength…. I wrestle with God.”

“With God!” I exclaimed in astonishment. “And you hope to win?”

“I hope to lose, my child. My bones remain with me still, and they continue to resist.”

– Nikos Kazantzakis, from Report to Greco

I Love The Dark Hours by Rainer Maria Rilke

I love the dark hours of my being.

My mind deepens into them.

There I can find, as in old letters,
the days of my life, already lived,
and held like a legend, and understood.

Then the knowing comes: I can open
to another life that’s wide and timeless.

So I am sometimes like a tree
rustling over a grave
and making real the dream
of the one its living roots embrace:

a dream once lost
among sorrows and songs.

despair & mercy

Only the man who has had to face despair is really convinced that he needs mercy. Those who do not want mercy never seek it. It is better to find God on the threshold of despair than to risk our lives in a complacency that has never felt the need of forgiveness. A life that is without problems may literally be more hopeless than one that always verges on despair.

Thomas Merton, New Man 21-22

Here I am

St. Peter’s, Portland, Maine

Isaiah 58:5-10
Is such the fast that I choose, a day to humble oneself? Is it to bow down the head like a bulrush, and to lie in sackcloth and ashes? Will you call this a fast, a day acceptable to the Lord? Is not this the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the thongs of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke? Is it not to share your bread with the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover them, and not to hide yourself from your own kin? Then your light shall break forth like the dawn, and your healing shall spring up quickly; your vindicator shall go before you, the glory of the Lord shall be your rear guard. Then you shall call, and the Lord will answer; you shall cry for help, and he will say, Here I am. If you remove the yoke from among you, the pointing of the finger, the speaking of evil, if you offer your food to the hungry and satisfy the needs of the afflicted, then your light shall rise in the darkness and your gloom be like the noonday.

This post is for…

…anyone who is struggling with depression, addiction; anyone who may be giving up, suicidal or self-harming.

I know you. I think I know what you are going through. I’ve been there.

Nine years ago on December 22, 2016, a cold, icy day, with freezing rain pouring down, I pulled into my garage thinking it would be a good time for me to die there. I was so turned around and struggling to recover from addictions, the darkness of the winter solstice seemed to have found a home within me.

After what felt like hours, I realized that my plan was selfish and would only serve to hurt the people–family, friends–who had been caring for me, carrying me until I could get back on my feet. I reached out to people, wise friends and family, who gave me good orderly direction. They told me to listen to the professionals who, without hesitation, were there to guide me.

I spent Christmas and several days after in a mental hospital, a place where I found rest and a sense of peace that I hadn’t felt for several years. I’m not saying that the path was easy, far from it. But I was on a different path in a different direction.

Kenosis is a theological term. In short, it means that we empty our own will and become entirely receptive to God’s will for us. The God that I came to know and hear was not a Catholic or Christian God, not Allah, not Yahweh, not Buddha but an internal light that shone on my place in the unified field of existence.

Over time I learned to listen to the wisdom of others who had lived through similar experiences, no longer trying to control the direction of my life.

So today I bless you and pray you can make the turn to life, the life you are meant to live.

If you are interested in a completely anonymous chat, please contact me.

My world in December 2016:

My world today

On this day when the earth begins to turn towards the light, I wish you peace and all good things.

the prison of meritocracy

Richard Rohr – Great love has the potential to open the heart space and then the mind space. Great suffering has the potential to open the mind space and then the heart space. Eventually both spaces need to be opened, and for such people, non-dual thinking can be the easiest.

People who have never loved or never suffered will normally try to control everything with an either-or attitude or all-or-nothing thinking. This closed system is all they are prepared for. The mentality that divides the world into “deserving and undeserving” has not yet experienced the absolute gratuity of grace or the undeserved character of mercy. This lack of in-depth God-experience leaves all of us judgmental, demanding, unforgiving, and weak in empathy and sympathy. Such people will remain inside the prison of “meritocracy,” where all has to be deserved. They are still counting when in reality God and grace exist outside of all accounting. Remember, however, to be patient with such people, even if you are the target of their judgment, because on some level, that is how they treat themselves as well.

Non-dual people will see things in their wholeness and call forth the same unity in others simply by being who they are. Wholeness (head, heart, and body all present, positive, and accounted for!) can see and call forth wholeness in others. This is why it is so pleasant to be around whole and holy people.

Dualistic or divided people, however, live in a split and fragmented world. They cannot accept or forgive certain parts of themselves. They cannot accept that God objectively dwells within them, as it states in so many places in Scripture, including 1 Corinthians 3:16-17. This lack of forgiveness takes the forms of a tortured mind, a closed heart, or an inability to live calmly and proudly inside ones own body. The fragmented mind sees parts, not wholes, in itself and others, and invariably it creates antagonism, reaction, fear, and resistance—“push-back” from other people—who themselves are longing for wholeness and holiness.