Terry Chapman's - Sabbath Journey

Canine Wisdom

While sitting in the Sabbath

stillness at Double Trouble

a honeysuckle bush

caught my eye but

not before its sweet perfume

seduced my heart.

 

“Consider the lilies”

I am told. So picking

one small bunch of

perfect white bells 

from the branch 

I began. . .

 

There were twelve 

tiny fragrant white cups 

on this particular twig,

one dangling off to the 

side perhaps injured 

by my intrusion.

 

I thought of the Twelve

connected to the 

True Vine, perfect too

in their completeness,

even the one whose

betrayal left him

injured and alone.

 

I wondered, 

does God love these

perfectly insignificant

honeysuckle buds as

much as the Twelve

or all would-be pilgrims

to come?

 

I thought, does 

God smell like this?

Does God put on

this erotic scent every

morning to please 

any lover who pauses

to notice?

 

I lowered the fragile

now wilting bouquet

so that Mocha could

smell too and 

relish in this 

synchronistic beauty.

 

She with one, Yoda like

gesture, in her innocent

canine wisdom, took

them whole into her

mouth before 

spitting then on the ground.

 

And so we continued our 

walk in the rain.

 

Fresh With Purpose: New Crested Crane Coffee Video

Finding the "thing" to give your life to

For some time I have know that I have a deep desire and passion to live into and share the experienece of Sabbath, that time and place in the heart of all that is where we rest in the knowing of being.  When I stray from the path and get lost in the wilderness of "this or that" I am learning to come home once again to the dream of caring for the seed of eternity planted in the soul.  Today I breathed some new inspiration after watching this story of another pilgim committed to a dream.

mumbo jumbo

 

I've had a lot of movement on my own path this week, beginning with a severe intestinal bug over the weekend.  I became aware of how vulnerable I can be to cynicism and just plain suckiness when I'm not feeling well.  But I was able to treat it (me) with some kindness and wait it out.

Then, while teaching/leading the Sababth Journey I paused to see how people were feeling about what I was presenting.  Long story, but one women said, "It seems like a lot of mumbo jumbo..."  This feeling of not connecting in my teaching touches a deep place in my soul (yes ego but deeper still).  While feeling that I did not need to fix it, her, or me I did notice how it vibrated.  And today I continue to ponder the idea of mumbo jumbo.  This from rom wikipedia:

Mumbo jumbo, or mumbo-jumbo, is an English phrase or expression that denotes a confusing or meaningless subject. It is often used as humorous expression of criticism of middle-management and civil service non-speak, and of belief in something considered non-existent by the speaker (such as ghosts or other superstitious beliefs), or the rituals of a religion the speaker does not believe in performed in a language that the speaker does not understand.

The phrase probably originated from the Mandingo name Maamajomboo, a masked dancer that took part in religious ceremonies. Mungo Park's travel journal,Travels in the Interior of Africa (1795) describes 'Mumbo Jumbo' as a character, complete with "masquerade habit", that Mandinka males would dress up in order to resolve domestic disputes. In the 18th century mumbo jumbo referred to a West African god.

There is so much for me in this whole idea and practice of how to language mystery as I live in this world between poetry and prose... mystery and "reality"... speakable and ineffable... bold sorties into the dark and pragmatic observations in the light.... 

I'm becoming more and more aware that while called to put words around that which I don't understand and which point to that beyond what I "believe" some of what I say and do will look and sound very much like Maamajomboo.  Maybe at that moment I/we are closer to Truth.

How can I keep from singing.... or dancing...

 

The Furnace of the Heart

Someday, after we have mastered the winds, the waves and gravity, we shall harness for God energies of love. Then for the second time in the history of the world we will have discovered fire. -Teilhard de Chardin

Seeking Equilibrium

Is it a quiet equilibrium
that I seek?

A kind of low pressure zone,
a balance in-between worlds:

fire and ice
here and there

prophet and priest
now and then.

It seems the valves of my
heart need constant adjustment

to regulate the pressure
so I can hold life.

But this heart regulation
is tricky business.

Turn the wrong valve
and I get burned.

Neglect the other and I
explode, harming too those I love.

But wait, in the Sabbath pause
I can let the pressure build

trusting the strength of my
heart to hold life’s fire

and so generating light in the darkness
and warmth for those left in the cold.

A story from the desert fathers: Abba Lot came to Abba Joseph and said: Father, according as I am able, I keep my little rule, and my little fast, my prayer, meditation and contemplative silence; and, according as I am able, I strive to cleanse my heart of thoughts: now what more should I do? The elder rose up in reply and stretched out his hands to heaven, and his fingers became like ten lamps of fire. He said: Why not become fire?

Tweeting Grief

River Grief flow though me
take all resistance with your strong currents
until my heart's banks open wide again to love

Come home to love, rest is the shade of Sabbath

Today I heard from two dear friends who were feeling depleted by life. I thought I would share an amalgam of my responses to them and a constant invitation to my-Self.

Their very real and raw cry included a description of feelings and accusations, internal and external, that have just taken the wind out of their sails. Each sentence began with 'I feel. . . I am . . .' each followed by a list of difficult life sucking emotions.

Here is my response to them (and to my Self)

"This too. . .

Pause after each 'I' in the paragraph. Take another deep breath, inhaling inexhaustible love.... hold.

Now exhale releasing any judgement, cynicism and fear.

Again. Again.

Now consider, as you are able, without judgment, only with compassion and kindness: Who is the 'I' who is: angry, attacked, reaching out, needy, having a hard time, alone, getting shot down, not heard, going to crack, not comfortable, discontented, falsely accused, really hurt, afraid?

Can you touch an 'I' that is more than those separate and fleeting identifications (or even the sum of them all). . . the most authentic Self . . . only love?

Keep breathing. The deepest part of you is full of light and love and stronger than you have imagined.

Come home to that part dear one. Find healing there before returning to the 'world'.

Know you can come back, whenever you feel depleted, out of the hot sun of false identifications (as real as they seem!) into the shade of Sabbath and find rest and refreshment there."

And a poem:

Each New Day
“Blessing covers the dry land like a river, and drenches it like a flood.”
Ecclesiastes 39:22

Each new day
before setting out
on the sun scorched path
I pause by the well
fed by love’s stream
to fill my soul’s reservoir
with essential blessing
into a dry and weary land
I carry the canteen of intention
from which I shall draw
when faced with
long spells of rejection
and if by chance or
seduced by some mirage
I find myself lost
in a parched place
I will turn once more
to my canteen, now a grail
to be refreshed for the
journey home

The Storm

There’s a storm brewing!
I can feel the falling pressure
in my bones.

The shutters rattle.
The dog is restless.
My heart constricts.

Sitting in my chair
staring at the front door
my teachers with me.

Rumi says: Welcome
and entertain all guests.
“a joy, a depression, a meanness”.

“Better said than done,” I say.

Paul says: Beware
“your enemy the devil is
like a roaring lion seeking to devour.”

“I will not live in fear,” I say.

The Budha says: Illusion
“There is no door, or house
or self for that matter.”

“Sounds good, but I’m not there,” I say.

Jesus says, Behold
“I stand at the door and knock
let me in.”

“I’m a bit weary of an invitation that begins with ‘behold,’” I say.

In spite of my ponderings
the storm is still a comin.
It’s time to take shelter in the bath tub.

Some how all my teachers
are with me there whispering
comfort until the storm passes.

There is wisdom in Sabbath.
Here, in the most unlikely place
We wait, watch and pray.

How then shall we live?

 

Reflections following a men's group discusion on the issues that divide.

I believe there are 3 possible responses to brokenness (read: injustice, inequality, etc. . . aka "sin")  on an individual or systemic level (by this I mean both on the side of brokenness and response).  

1. Do nothing.  Either paralyzed by the scale of the brokenness or just plain morally asleep one can hunker down in the supposed safety of one's small world and settle for a good enough life. However, there is a price to pay.  One may gain the whole world but "loose" one's soul.

2.  Do something that makes one feel better about oneself.  Depending on one's inclination one might write a check out of one's perceived surplus without any any threat to one's safety plan or life style.  Churches are really good at providing opportunities for this kind of temporary relief. Or you might piss and moan about all the problems in the world that someone has caused and someone else should fix.  Both of these strategies will provide some temporary relief to one's underlying pool of guilt that occasionally surfaces.  Alternatively, pacifying addictions work well here, anything that can keep the flow of moral morphine pumping through the veins. 

3.  Do what one can, as messed and incomplete as one's efforts are, allowing oneself to be regularly disturbed into some movement out of one's small story and illusion of safety.  This is tricky though.  It is not easy to live in this prophetic tension.  The more one opens to the world the more one is called to open.... the crack in one's egoic armor widens stronger and clearer to the call to open even more.  Living in inconsummation, that is, in a perpetual state of incompleteness, requires a regular conversion of the heart and stretching of the will.  This is a dangerous path that could actually lead to some part of one literally dying. . . to be born again.

On the "Sabbath Journey" the first two choices keep one firmly planted in the trance of ordinary world.  The third is the choice of one who responds to the invitation of adventure. . . it is the hero's journey. It is the path that leads to life. 

 

Paddling Barneget National Wildlife Preserve

Cold But Sunny.... Wonderful day on the water with my friend Jim White.