Well, it's Sunday evening and it's been a pretty nice day. Slept well, ate well, feel well. We had a very fine Meeting for Worship this morning, with several people giving Vocal Ministry -- including me. The First Day School prepared our Social Hour treats, and they were clearly excited and pleased to have done such. And we had a new visitor who may well become active in the life of our Meeting. She seemed to be in a perfect place to settle into Quakerism...
I got to work on a set of ropes for a magic trick for Ann, Bill Pierce's little girl. (She was fascinated with the trick when I showed it to her and she learned to do it remarkably quickly. It will be interesting to see if she's still interested in the trick by the time I give her the rope set.)
But.
I feel I've missed something. And if I have, it's something that I've missed for a very long time. Quite possibly something I've never had. Something that possibly I never will.
And that's a feeling of satisfaction and gratitude. As if I've lived this day to its fullest potential. Maybe "squeezed it dry." But maybe that's not the best way to look at it.
My feeling as I sit here at the computer watching the last rays of the setting sun is that it's just another day gone by. And at my age, another day putting me closer to The End of it All for Me.
I don't know what to do about this. This empty feeling that I may have let something slide past me. Something that I might have grabbed.
I feel that I'm not alone in this feeling. And maybe I should feel some gratitude that at least I am feeling that I'm missing something.
And maybe just the fact that I'm feeling this way now suggests that I can be on the way to doing something about it. Or understanding something about it.
I would like to treat each day as a priceless jewel -- unique in all the world. And carefully place that jewel beside a long line of other priceless jewels. Each of which is different. Each of which is wonderful.
Sunday, September 30, 2018
Thursday, September 20, 2018
Lines on a page. Words, words, words.
I run this scenario through my mind on a regular basis:
I can enter a room that has nothing in it but a table. And on that table is a piece of paper and a pencil.
And I can draw some lines on that paper. The lines are gathered in small groups. I call these groups "letters." And the "letters" are further gathered into groups called "words." After drawing a number of these lines -- gathered as described above -- I can then leave the room.
Ten hours later, someone else -- someone I have never met and may no little or nothing about -- might enter this room and look at the lines I drew on the paper. And just by looking at them, the lines can make this persons quite happy or quite angry. Or the lines can instruct the person to do something; and the person proceeds to do that thing or experience that emotion.
Pretty powerful stuff, these "words." And I might die or move away and forget all about the lines I drew on the paper, but the lines will continue to affect people. Hundreds or thousands of them. Powerful indeed!
But wait, there's more!
These "words" have an audible representation that people can -- and do -- exchange on a frequent basis. And the effect of happy/sad/angry/etc. continues even without anyone drawing lines on a piece of paper.
And, in particular, I'm thinking of these "words" in terms of The School of the Spirit and my participation in that program. Simply by exchanging these "words" with other people -- audibly in a room together or by examining the lines on a piece of paper -- I can be informed or confused, made to laugh or cry, made grateful or angry.
And the effect of these "words" can shed new light on who I am and why I am the way that I am and thereby change the direction of my life.
And it all starts with lines on a page.
What curious creatures people are...
I can enter a room that has nothing in it but a table. And on that table is a piece of paper and a pencil.
And I can draw some lines on that paper. The lines are gathered in small groups. I call these groups "letters." And the "letters" are further gathered into groups called "words." After drawing a number of these lines -- gathered as described above -- I can then leave the room.
Ten hours later, someone else -- someone I have never met and may no little or nothing about -- might enter this room and look at the lines I drew on the paper. And just by looking at them, the lines can make this persons quite happy or quite angry. Or the lines can instruct the person to do something; and the person proceeds to do that thing or experience that emotion.
Pretty powerful stuff, these "words." And I might die or move away and forget all about the lines I drew on the paper, but the lines will continue to affect people. Hundreds or thousands of them. Powerful indeed!
But wait, there's more!
These "words" have an audible representation that people can -- and do -- exchange on a frequent basis. And the effect of happy/sad/angry/etc. continues even without anyone drawing lines on a piece of paper.
And, in particular, I'm thinking of these "words" in terms of The School of the Spirit and my participation in that program. Simply by exchanging these "words" with other people -- audibly in a room together or by examining the lines on a piece of paper -- I can be informed or confused, made to laugh or cry, made grateful or angry.
And the effect of these "words" can shed new light on who I am and why I am the way that I am and thereby change the direction of my life.
And it all starts with lines on a page.
What curious creatures people are...
Wednesday, September 19, 2018
When Disciplines Come Together -- A New Beginning?
This is a follow-on (read: punchline) to a previous post titled "When Disciplines Come Together -- the Photos." If you haven't read that post in some time, it might make sense to re-read that posting. It references four (I think four) photographs that form the basis of a new understanding with which I am currently dealing/wrestling/contemplating/celebrating. Take your choice.
Okay, I looked over the previous posting and feel ready to describe what I think I've learned from the choice of photos I made:
The photo with the young person holding the hand of the grown-up as the two of them walked towards the sunset (sunrise? I don't think so...) over the water was kind of an "add-on" selection to the set of three. So let's start with them.
What occurred to me early in my thinking about "Why these photos?" is that all three of them feature a hole as an important feature:
-- The cross on one photograph was an empty space in the fabric (or paper). But it was easily the focal point of the image.
-- The eye of the hurricane takes a little longer to focus on, but once again, it was the principal element in the image.
-- The bridge as structure was -- to me -- almost a fringe element at the sides and top of the arch. And the river itself was visible, but not by a lot. But the space under the bridge was occupied the center of the image and stretched out both to the sides and upward.
What came quickly to mind was the chapter of the Tao Teh Ching normally presented as Chapter 11. The opening line to that chapter is translated by John C. H. Wu as: "Thirty spokes converge upon a single hub." And the other examples of important holes that Lao Tzu mentions reinforce this idea that emptiness is what makes things valuable and/or worthwhile.
What came to me in contemplating this was that I had been wrestling with three different disciplines (that is, the Tao, Christianity, and Buddhism) trying to establish which represented my most valuable path to The Truth. And that each of these disciplines offered insight and nourishment that did not necessarily interfere with that of the other two disciplines. And that there was no reason why I shouldn't embrace all three -- as each had important "vision" that I find helpful in understanding myself and the world around me.
Stephen Jay Gould wrote an essay for Natural History Magazine a number of years ago in which he used the term "magisterium" to describe the relationship between science and religion. (The term is defined by the Oxford Dictionary as "teaching authority.") His idea is that each of these two magisteria (i.e., science and religion) have authority over a different portion of the human experience. They do not -- and should not -- compete with each other, as each is successful in its own realm. Each answers questions that the other cannot. Each provides tools for understanding the self and the world that the other doesn't have. And I can now see my three different disciplines as being separate magisteria. Not competitive and, when properly understood, not contradictory.
(Gould was, for your information, attacked vigorously by readers of that essay. I think the word "traitor" showed up in some of the letters written to the magazine in response. Sometimes Truth has a hard time getting recognition by those who do not wish to hear it. As I recall, Jesus had a somewhat similar issue with proclaiming the Truth...)
Okay, I looked over the previous posting and feel ready to describe what I think I've learned from the choice of photos I made:
The photo with the young person holding the hand of the grown-up as the two of them walked towards the sunset (sunrise? I don't think so...) over the water was kind of an "add-on" selection to the set of three. So let's start with them.
What occurred to me early in my thinking about "Why these photos?" is that all three of them feature a hole as an important feature:
-- The cross on one photograph was an empty space in the fabric (or paper). But it was easily the focal point of the image.
-- The eye of the hurricane takes a little longer to focus on, but once again, it was the principal element in the image.
-- The bridge as structure was -- to me -- almost a fringe element at the sides and top of the arch. And the river itself was visible, but not by a lot. But the space under the bridge was occupied the center of the image and stretched out both to the sides and upward.
What came quickly to mind was the chapter of the Tao Teh Ching normally presented as Chapter 11. The opening line to that chapter is translated by John C. H. Wu as: "Thirty spokes converge upon a single hub." And the other examples of important holes that Lao Tzu mentions reinforce this idea that emptiness is what makes things valuable and/or worthwhile.
What came to me in contemplating this was that I had been wrestling with three different disciplines (that is, the Tao, Christianity, and Buddhism) trying to establish which represented my most valuable path to The Truth. And that each of these disciplines offered insight and nourishment that did not necessarily interfere with that of the other two disciplines. And that there was no reason why I shouldn't embrace all three -- as each had important "vision" that I find helpful in understanding myself and the world around me.
Stephen Jay Gould wrote an essay for Natural History Magazine a number of years ago in which he used the term "magisterium" to describe the relationship between science and religion. (The term is defined by the Oxford Dictionary as "teaching authority.") His idea is that each of these two magisteria (i.e., science and religion) have authority over a different portion of the human experience. They do not -- and should not -- compete with each other, as each is successful in its own realm. Each answers questions that the other cannot. Each provides tools for understanding the self and the world that the other doesn't have. And I can now see my three different disciplines as being separate magisteria. Not competitive and, when properly understood, not contradictory.
(Gould was, for your information, attacked vigorously by readers of that essay. I think the word "traitor" showed up in some of the letters written to the magazine in response. Sometimes Truth has a hard time getting recognition by those who do not wish to hear it. As I recall, Jesus had a somewhat similar issue with proclaiming the Truth...)
Tuesday, September 18, 2018
Why is my Journey Flooded with Tears?
Shortly after our class (SN11) was divided into three K-Groups (I'm in the Blue Group), each K-Group met separately. And one of our very first assignments was to tell the group -- in roughly 35 minutes -- about our Spiritual Journey. From the earliest thing we can remember that was salient to the topic to whatever it was that brought us to SN11. In that session, the first person (of five in the group) told of her journey. Then our time expired and the second two persons were scheduled to begin the next day's K-Group session.
I was the second of those two people on that following day. I had made a few notes of topics I wanted to mention and was pleased that the first person that day had also made notes. Made me feel that it was alright to have done this Didn't have to be spontaneous. Here are the topics I wanted to include in my talk -- pretty much in chronological order:
-- Tell Me About God
-- Singing in the choir -- and Church as obligation and not worship
-- "What about the Muslims and the Navajos?"
-- The Man in the Brown Suit and Nail Clipping
-- "Faith of our Fathers." Really? I mean Really?
-- College was nothing
-- Confirmation as a completely meaningless exercise
-- The Tao Teh Ching tape in the car
-- Conscientious Objection and the American Friends Service Committee
-- N. Church Street on a Sunday morning
-- Healing in Meadville: Knowing about my closed heart
-- Just who is Shiva, anyway?
-- The exclusivity of Christianity: now I have a word for "What about..."
If you, dear reader, aren't Randy, let me assure you that I'd be happy to explain any of the above topics. In fact, I may return to this posting and fill in some explanation at a later date.
The previous two presenters had gone through their Journey descriptions completely dry-eyed, and seemingly without much emotion of any type. And I fully expected to do the same. But by the time I got to (roughly) the third topic, my voice was catching with emotion. And by the time I got to the fifth or thereabouts, I was weeping openly and unashamedly. And I was racked with emotion for the rest of the presentation.
I couldn't figure out exactly what was happening and, at the time, I really didn't care. All I knew was that there was a huge amount of emotional energy bottled up in me concerning these events -- and it felt like a relief to allow these emotions to manifest themselves.
My K-Group classmates were quiet afterwards, and several of them -- and the group leader -- checked in with me afterwards to make sure I was okay. And I was able truthfully to tell them that I was more than okay. That the experience gave me an important opening into "Who I really was/am." And that I planned to stay with these insights and work with them.
To date, the two words that have come to me in explanation of what happened are "Disillusionment" and "Disappointment." Which, of course, overlap considerably.
So I'm grateful for the time and opportunity to write this experience out this way. And hope that I can find some key elements that will help me to Heal in the Meadville sense of the word.
Thanks for reading.
I was the second of those two people on that following day. I had made a few notes of topics I wanted to mention and was pleased that the first person that day had also made notes. Made me feel that it was alright to have done this Didn't have to be spontaneous. Here are the topics I wanted to include in my talk -- pretty much in chronological order:
-- Tell Me About God
-- Singing in the choir -- and Church as obligation and not worship
-- "What about the Muslims and the Navajos?"
-- The Man in the Brown Suit and Nail Clipping
-- "Faith of our Fathers." Really? I mean Really?
-- College was nothing
-- Confirmation as a completely meaningless exercise
-- The Tao Teh Ching tape in the car
-- Conscientious Objection and the American Friends Service Committee
-- N. Church Street on a Sunday morning
-- Healing in Meadville: Knowing about my closed heart
-- Just who is Shiva, anyway?
-- The exclusivity of Christianity: now I have a word for "What about..."
If you, dear reader, aren't Randy, let me assure you that I'd be happy to explain any of the above topics. In fact, I may return to this posting and fill in some explanation at a later date.
The previous two presenters had gone through their Journey descriptions completely dry-eyed, and seemingly without much emotion of any type. And I fully expected to do the same. But by the time I got to (roughly) the third topic, my voice was catching with emotion. And by the time I got to the fifth or thereabouts, I was weeping openly and unashamedly. And I was racked with emotion for the rest of the presentation.
I couldn't figure out exactly what was happening and, at the time, I really didn't care. All I knew was that there was a huge amount of emotional energy bottled up in me concerning these events -- and it felt like a relief to allow these emotions to manifest themselves.
My K-Group classmates were quiet afterwards, and several of them -- and the group leader -- checked in with me afterwards to make sure I was okay. And I was able truthfully to tell them that I was more than okay. That the experience gave me an important opening into "Who I really was/am." And that I planned to stay with these insights and work with them.
To date, the two words that have come to me in explanation of what happened are "Disillusionment" and "Disappointment." Which, of course, overlap considerably.
So I'm grateful for the time and opportunity to write this experience out this way. And hope that I can find some key elements that will help me to Heal in the Meadville sense of the word.
Thanks for reading.
Thursday, September 13, 2018
The Messenger. Maybe...
I've just come from a lovely evening with two members of my Care Committee. We were at the home of one of the participants. We spent considerable time talking about the responsibilities of the Committee and how the two of them could best address those responsibilities. Then the talk then turned to how each of us could best address the needs of our Monthly Meeting. A delightful and meaningful time.
As I moved to the door to leave, our host apologized for the fact that the front porch light was out. So I turned on my cell phone's flashlight app to avoid slipping on the wet steps. Halfway down, I felt a "thump" on the instep of my left foot. I shone the flashlight down on my foot and was surprised to see a very large toad sitting on my foot. The size of my fist. He/she hopped off and -- after stopping momentarily, seemingly to look back at me -- hopped off into the damp underbrush.
Now, if the porch light had worked, the toad wouldn't have been there. If I had worn shoes rather than sandals, I might not have felt the toad landing on my foot. If I had placed my foot a little differently, I might have stepped on the toad. But the interaction of person and toad worked out perfectly well. To the satisfaction, it would seem, of both of us.
So was this just a chance encounter -- me and the toad? Was the toad a Messenger to say that there was Strong Approval from Elsewhere to the heart-to-heart talk I'd just had with my Committee members? Who can say? (But I know what I would like to think about the issue!)
Sometimes God sends Flights of Angels. Sometimes God sends Toads.
Same same.
Sunday, September 9, 2018
When the Disciplines Come Together -- The Photos
Today, one of our assignments was to pick photos (between 1 and 5 photos) from a large collection of really lovely and thoughtful examples and consider them in regards to our Image of God. I picked four:
A Piece of Highly Weathered Wood with a Piece of Paper (or Cloth) Nailed to It. A Hole is Torn in the Fabric the Shape of a Christian Cross. I picked this photo because the obviously Christian-cross-shaped hole reminded me of one of my favorite chapters in the Tao Teh Ching. That chapter discusses how the emptiness portion of common everyday items is the most important part. (i.e., The center of a wheel, the inside of a vase or cup, the windows and door of a house.) The "cross" in the photo isn't made of anything. It's the hole in the middle of the fabric. But yet it is clearly the most important aspect of the cloth. The part that isn't there...
Oh, and the cross-shaped hole allows the beauty of the weathered wood to show through. If the cross had been a drawing on the cloth rather than a hole, the beauty of the wood could not be seen.
A Magnificent Photo of a Hurricane Taken from Outer Space. The storm being pictured is obviously massive -- covering a large portion of Earth's surface. And it is easy to imagine the destruction being wreaked on the planet by the storm. But from outer space, the storm looks peaceful and gorgeous and aesthetically delightful. But in the center of the photo is the center of the storm. The "Eye" of the hurricane. The light shines down into the Eye at one edge, showing that the center of the storm is clear -- even as it it surrounded on all sides by heavy cloud cover.
The picture reminded me that, while we were sitting in comfort in the Franciscan Spiritual Center discussing great and mighty things, we were not, in fact, great and mighty things. Outside the building, where heavy rain was falling for the third consecutive day, the great and mighty things were occurring without any help from us.
So the picture was a reminder to me of exactly who was in charge of doing what in this here universe. A Truth that escapes us from time to time.
A Beautiful image of a High Bridge Crossing a River That Seemed to Be Running Quite Quickly. And There Were Pink Springtime Flowers Across the Top of the Image. The river in the photo looked to be too wide and too rapid to cross safely by swimming. So you could walk to the edge of the water on one side and find it impossible to get to the other side. Except for the existence of the bridge.
Now, you didn't have anything to do with the design of the bridge (which was elegant and beautiful) or the construction of the bridge or the maintenance of the bridge. But the bridge was there for you to cross the river easily and safely. At any time you wished. And the bridge didn't interfere with the river in any way. Each had its own province.
The lovely flowers across the top of the photo seemed to be blessing the bridge and the river and celebrating both of them.
My take on all this reflected a basic tenet of Christianity (and probably many other religions too!) that Help from the Almighty is available at any time to anyone. It isn't that you did anything special to deserve this -- and may in fact have done much evil in your life -- but the bridge to carry you safely is there for all.
A Small Child is Walking Towards a Large Body of Water as the Sun Begins to Set Over That Water. The Child's Right Hand is Being Held by a Tall Man, so that the Two of Them are Walking Together. The Man Allows the Child to Walk Slightly in Front of Him. The child could probably walk successfully by him/herself. But the guiding and supporting hand of the grown-up seems to be a welcome thing.
I placed myself in the image as being the child. And I can walk most anywhere I wished. But there are times and places where the hand of the Lord is deeply, thankfully taken. The hand was always there. All I had to do was reach for it. As I did during my cancer treatments...
A Piece of Highly Weathered Wood with a Piece of Paper (or Cloth) Nailed to It. A Hole is Torn in the Fabric the Shape of a Christian Cross. I picked this photo because the obviously Christian-cross-shaped hole reminded me of one of my favorite chapters in the Tao Teh Ching. That chapter discusses how the emptiness portion of common everyday items is the most important part. (i.e., The center of a wheel, the inside of a vase or cup, the windows and door of a house.) The "cross" in the photo isn't made of anything. It's the hole in the middle of the fabric. But yet it is clearly the most important aspect of the cloth. The part that isn't there...
Oh, and the cross-shaped hole allows the beauty of the weathered wood to show through. If the cross had been a drawing on the cloth rather than a hole, the beauty of the wood could not be seen.
A Magnificent Photo of a Hurricane Taken from Outer Space. The storm being pictured is obviously massive -- covering a large portion of Earth's surface. And it is easy to imagine the destruction being wreaked on the planet by the storm. But from outer space, the storm looks peaceful and gorgeous and aesthetically delightful. But in the center of the photo is the center of the storm. The "Eye" of the hurricane. The light shines down into the Eye at one edge, showing that the center of the storm is clear -- even as it it surrounded on all sides by heavy cloud cover.
The picture reminded me that, while we were sitting in comfort in the Franciscan Spiritual Center discussing great and mighty things, we were not, in fact, great and mighty things. Outside the building, where heavy rain was falling for the third consecutive day, the great and mighty things were occurring without any help from us.
So the picture was a reminder to me of exactly who was in charge of doing what in this here universe. A Truth that escapes us from time to time.
A Beautiful image of a High Bridge Crossing a River That Seemed to Be Running Quite Quickly. And There Were Pink Springtime Flowers Across the Top of the Image. The river in the photo looked to be too wide and too rapid to cross safely by swimming. So you could walk to the edge of the water on one side and find it impossible to get to the other side. Except for the existence of the bridge.
Now, you didn't have anything to do with the design of the bridge (which was elegant and beautiful) or the construction of the bridge or the maintenance of the bridge. But the bridge was there for you to cross the river easily and safely. At any time you wished. And the bridge didn't interfere with the river in any way. Each had its own province.
The lovely flowers across the top of the photo seemed to be blessing the bridge and the river and celebrating both of them.
My take on all this reflected a basic tenet of Christianity (and probably many other religions too!) that Help from the Almighty is available at any time to anyone. It isn't that you did anything special to deserve this -- and may in fact have done much evil in your life -- but the bridge to carry you safely is there for all.
A Small Child is Walking Towards a Large Body of Water as the Sun Begins to Set Over That Water. The Child's Right Hand is Being Held by a Tall Man, so that the Two of Them are Walking Together. The Man Allows the Child to Walk Slightly in Front of Him. The child could probably walk successfully by him/herself. But the guiding and supporting hand of the grown-up seems to be a welcome thing.
I placed myself in the image as being the child. And I can walk most anywhere I wished. But there are times and places where the hand of the Lord is deeply, thankfully taken. The hand was always there. All I had to do was reach for it. As I did during my cancer treatments...
Saturday, September 8, 2018
The storm breaks -- and all is well
It was clear to me that the diversity in religious practices between the Liberal and Conservatives -- the Unprogrammed and Programmed Meetings -- would, at some point in the 18 months of the School of the Spirit program, result in hard feelings based on misunderstandings, unwarranted assumptions, and simple ignorance.
Fortunately for our ("SN11") class, this eruption in the "feel good feel at home" atmosphere happened on the third day! And, as I suspected, there would be harsh words, but nothing would be said that couldn't be taken back. Underlying the acrimony, there was a much stronger feeling of love and compassion to which we all subscribed. And it helped that there were so many Seasoned Quakers in our midst to mitigate the words as they were spoken.
The question arose: "Will we have space in these gatherings to express our Rage [and explore those feelings until the Rage subsided]?" At one point, I took the microphone to say "If we allow space for laughter and joy, we must also allow space for tears and sadness. If we allow space for togetherness and mutual respect, we must also allow space for anger and rage." I think that helped.
Many folks spoke from Very Deep Places, for the nourishment of all of us.
What also helped was Johanna taking out a bottle of bubbles and blowing a few into the center of the circle.
It took maybe 30 to 45 minutes -- from a very packed schedule which had not allotted any time for this! -- for everyone to express their feelings and come to mutual understanding. One "side" to the other. I chatted with Evelyn a bit later, and she was pleased. On previous occasions, this blow-up did not occur in the program until it was 3/4 done. So little time was left to repair whatever damage had been done and move forward. And we had almost the entire program in front of us to benefit from what had occurred.
As the episode was drawing to a conclusion, I took the mike to suggest that, if and when another contretemps should take place, we should make sure that there was a bottle of bubble soap and a blower close at hand.
Quakers are cool. Even cooler than I thought...
Fortunately for our ("SN11") class, this eruption in the "feel good feel at home" atmosphere happened on the third day! And, as I suspected, there would be harsh words, but nothing would be said that couldn't be taken back. Underlying the acrimony, there was a much stronger feeling of love and compassion to which we all subscribed. And it helped that there were so many Seasoned Quakers in our midst to mitigate the words as they were spoken.
The question arose: "Will we have space in these gatherings to express our Rage [and explore those feelings until the Rage subsided]?" At one point, I took the microphone to say "If we allow space for laughter and joy, we must also allow space for tears and sadness. If we allow space for togetherness and mutual respect, we must also allow space for anger and rage." I think that helped.
Many folks spoke from Very Deep Places, for the nourishment of all of us.
What also helped was Johanna taking out a bottle of bubbles and blowing a few into the center of the circle.
It took maybe 30 to 45 minutes -- from a very packed schedule which had not allotted any time for this! -- for everyone to express their feelings and come to mutual understanding. One "side" to the other. I chatted with Evelyn a bit later, and she was pleased. On previous occasions, this blow-up did not occur in the program until it was 3/4 done. So little time was left to repair whatever damage had been done and move forward. And we had almost the entire program in front of us to benefit from what had occurred.
As the episode was drawing to a conclusion, I took the mike to suggest that, if and when another contretemps should take place, we should make sure that there was a bottle of bubble soap and a blower close at hand.
Quakers are cool. Even cooler than I thought...
Friday, September 7, 2018
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