Metanoia Bringing Peace

We all like beginnings, especially when what we have isn't worth keeping. The chance to make a fresh start has inspired songs, poems and lives.

New beginnings is what metanoia is all about. And it happens every time you make it happen. You don't have to wait until a new year draws near, or a new month, or a new day. It can start right now.

Metanoia means turning around, change of heart, conversion. In plain language, metanoia is an ancient way of reminding ourselves that we are not set in cement. We have and can and should turn our face toward the face of God every time the thought comes to us. Each turning brings our souls and minds closer to the unseen reality of the Divine. And you can not come close to the Divine without it changing you in some way.

Metanoia. Turn, O soul, toward the light. Turn where grace is found. Turn and see, for life is better than you first understood. Turn to glimpse the Divine in readiness to take your hand and lead. Turn that you may walk the path destined for you. Turn that you may let his face shine upon you and give you peace.

Who Do I say I am?

Who do you say that I am? These words of Jesus can make all of us pause, if only for a moment. Perhaps we should turn the question around and say, who do I say that I am?

Often our image of ourselves carries a bit of distance from reality. It's easy to spot in others. A bit harder to spot in me. But sometimes those images come together, and seem a "fit" for who we should be. We can spend years following an image we've accepted of ourselves, only to find, in the end, that it isn't.

What makes my image? What people tell me I am? What I imagine I am? These are questions for real soul searching. And, of course, attempting to be that image. But sometimes I let the image of who I think I should be replace the authentic me.

Sometimes we look with envy at what someone else is doing, envy because we secretly admire that person, but envious because we find every excuse to deny our own potential in following our dream. Sometimes we remain the image others have of us because becoming our own self is too painful, too new, too hard to adjust to. So we cling instead of letting go. How shall we ever find our real self? By serious reflection. By courage. By acceptance of failure when the "image" doesn't work.

Who do I say that I am?

The Wholeness of Imperfection

Wholesome. It's a word we see more and more these days. The dictionary defines it as comprising the full quantity, amount, extent, number, etc., without diminution or exception; entire, full, or total.  It connotes healthy, nutritious, organic, balanced. It should also be a key word for each of us in our search for an authentic spiritual life.

Whole makes us think of oneness, of all the parts meshing together naturally. It also makes us think that all is above reproach, nothing damaged, nothing tainted. Yet in the spiritual life, that would be false. For there is not one person alive who could claim perfection. And in spirituality, wholeness does not translate into perfect. It translates into acceptance of what is.

None of us comes of age without a certain amount of baggage. We can spend a great deal of our lives working to deny it or cover it. But that too lacks the "wholeness" vision.

What we forget is that "perfection" is a myth, not a reality. Our woundedness does not damage or destroy our wholeness, only our lack of acceptance and willingness to work with it. We sense immediately when someone presents herself to us as perfect, that it is only a sham, that the truth is not being told, that life is being presented very superficially.

Authenticity requires that we accept our woundedness. Who is more beautiful than the soul that lets her authenticity shines through her words and actions, without guile or pretense? And spiritual wholeness requires we accept all facets of ourselves, the pleasant and the unpleasant. Only then can we be "whole".

Be whole. Accept your whole person. Then you can be truly free.

Authentic Freedom

Jesus says in John 16:13: Unless I go away, the Counselor will not come to you; but if I go, I will send him to you. And we are all familiar with the quote: How hard it is for those who have wealth to enter the Kingdom of God! Mk 12:25.

Why does Jesus speak often about letting go and giving up? Can we not enjoy the material possession life gives us? Or is he speaking of something else, some deeper, something more fundamental?

I think Jesus is trying to teach us a different attitude toward life. I think this attitude is not just toward material possessions, but more importantly, toward doing good deeds.

Face it. We all get a lot a great deal of human satisfaction from the good deeds that we do. But doing good deeds for good feelings can end disastrously. How? Because, as someone has said, no good deed goes unpunished. What will keep us going when our good deeds are misjudged, unappreciated, even condemned? How will we continue doing good? Will we not drop it all and wonder, why did I bother?

Jesus knows we love doing actions for rewards, so he invites us to follow him for a deeper reason: simply because it is the right thing to do. Joy will follow. But if joy is our goal, we will fall flat on our face.

That's the catch. When we choose to follow Jesus, and our choice is not rewarded with that deep sense of fulfillment, we must go inside of our souls reflect on our intentions. Are we doing this for personal satisfaction? Or are we doing the right thing because it is right?  Only when we discern this, can we experience a true freedom.  And after all, isn't that what following Jesus should be about?

Dreamers Pursuing their Dreams

We read in scripture that the Joseph of the Old Testament was quite the dreamer. His dreams did not just humor him; they predicted his future. Joseph of the New Testament dreamed as well. His dreams often answered the nagging questions in his heart. Both Josephs discerned their dreams, and listened to them. Through belief, they came to see the dreams come true.

Hans Selye is quoted as saying realistic people with practical aims are rarely as realistic and practical in the long run of things as the dreamers who pursue their dreams.

If the Gospels has anything to teach us, it is to believe. And part of believing comes through being able to dream...of what could be, of what we are meant to be, of where life can take us. Dreams can be the doorways to wonderful changes in our lives, to great events, to important opportunities, to new levels. We obtain only what we work for. And we work for what we believe in. Do we look at the future in unrealistic terms? Or are our dreams based on present day realities? To live the dream requires stepping forward and risking. We can't sit back and just wish.

What are your dreams? More importantly, what are you doing to make them come true?

Answers Transformed

In thinking over Clyde Crews question on answers, I've been thinking about his question ...why isn't the meaning of things clear...agreeable and available to all?

This is one of the mysteries of life; that a meaning that satisfies you does not satisfy me. Or even, that a meaning once solid for me has become more like shifting sand, and I must search for something deeper or more concrete.

Why answers don't work forever is a mystery to me. I know that truth is unchangeable. But I conclude our understanding of truth must grow even as we grow, must change even as we change. And that when an understanding has reached a climax in a particular answer, then we must find a better answer.

All of this must seem very abstract. Here is a concrete example. Early on in my religious life, I held to one notion of suffering. That notion consisted in the phrase, "Carry your cross" and "God will never give you more than you can bear." These concepts espoused a great truth, that there is value in suffering. For years, this truth sufficed when life became challenging.

Then, along came a period of intense darkness. Life became confusing, and the pain intense. Suddenly the very words that had sustained me earlier in life failed me. In fact, not only were the meanings lost on me, but the words actually seemed accusatory. I searched for something more, something deeper, something with a better answer. I finally found it in words spoken to me by someone else, words taken from Romans "For those who love God, all things work together for good." The shift is sutle, but it totally changed my concept of pain and suffering. From passive acceptance, I learned to focus rather on the good that could result.

That is my story of an answer that transformed over time. Maybe you have such an example to share. I'd be interested in hearing about it.

Testing the Answers

In reading Clyde Crews book, Ultimate Questions, I like his statement No one escapes questioning; and in good measure we are defined in life and even in death by the nature of our own personal response (3). I would go one step further and say that we cannot truly answer the question until we understand it.

I once chatted with someone suffering great emotional distress. As she talked, she made the statement, "They keep giving me tools. I don't want tools, I want answers." A chill ran down my spine because I knew, life isn't so much about answers as it is about living the questions. You can get a generic answer, but it will never satisfy your particular journey. In fact, I'll go so far as to maintain that until you make the question your own, no answer will ever fully satisfy.

Even then, answers that are particular to you will work only for a time. For as you change and grow, you will understand the question differently, and will need a better response.Of course, this will happen only if you are living the question! If you stay with general questions, you can accept and live by generic answers.

But if you are forever deepening your understanding of God, you will see life in different lights as you journey. Because as we come to know God better, we understand the questions differently.

So maybe the better statement is how well are you living the questions of life? Are you delving deeper into the mystery of being, of the why and the how? Are you willing to sit with your questions until your answers come?

Cleansing the Vision

Much religious literature on the spiritual life deals with the concept of stages, as though spirituality can be likened to getting a degree.

I recognize that yes, the spiritual life unfolds something similar to human development: we progress from a child to adolescent to adult. But I would rather think of our spiritual journey as one of transcending.We desire and search, and gradually the mist burns away because a fire has been lit from within. We are not so much ascending to a higher level as we are deepening our understanding of things we've always had, but not appreciated. So our vision becomes a bit clearer and our understanding broader. We find we continue with the same practices, we just use them in a different way. In my beginnings my meditation was labored and somewhat structured. I still meditate, but how very different it is  now!

I say this because I see a danger in stages, in ascending, as though we can reach a plateau where we know better than others. And how very dangerous that kind of thinking is. In some sense, we are all beginners, because we must be converted and turned to the Lord every waking moment of our lives. And in some sense we all have a part of heaven tucked into our heart and soul with some understanding that is given to us alone, one we can share with others or keep to ourselves.

So lay down seeking perfection. Seek instead a greater openness to the spirit, a clearer vision, the knowledge to see what you already have in a new light. Remember Jesus words, "Behold, I make all this new" (Rev. 21:4).

Beyond Fear

Gregory the Great could be called the Doctor of Desire, says Jean Leclerq. He says The importance given to desire confers on St. Gregory's doctrine an extremely dynamic quality. It is concerned with constant progress, for desire, as it becomes the more intense, is rewarded by a certain possession of God which increases it still more. The result of this desire is peace rediscovered in God, since desire is itself a possession in which fear and love are reconciled.

I find Leclerq's statement rather bland. I would like to put fire under it and proclaim, its all about desire! God cannot be possessed without it, nor fear vanquished, or struggle overcome. The phrase that we obtain a "certain possession of God", bothers me, because it makes God seem almost beyond our reach. And I'm not so sure fear and love can be reconciled. I'm more of the mind that love cast out fear; that fear can be overcome, that we can move beyond fear into a loving trust through a habitual response of trust. What we often lack is patience with ourselves, patience with the process, patience with the imperfections. It's as though we expect never to fail, and then berate ourselves because, what? we're human? God forbid!

God isn't unapproachable. He doesn't reign somewhere high above us, so that we must struggle to find even a "certain possession" of him. Time and time again scripture and scholars and mystics tell us: he is in the depths of our hearts. He waits patiently for us to find him there. And only desire can bring us.

Hazards of Fear

There is no fear in love, but perfect love drives out all fear because fear has to do with punishment, and so one who fears is not yet perfect in love. (Jn 4:18) 

I know the power of fear – and the emotions it stirs – insecurities -- inability to accept oneself – lack of courage – trust – foresight. So when I read from Olivier Clément’s book “On Being Human”  Then we discover the basic truth about ourselves, that we are loved, and it is because we are loved that we exist I know the solution. The solution is knowledge of God's love. But solutions are not always easy to implement.

Fear paralyzes. It blinds and binds us. And it seems to harden as well, for when we fear, we find it hard to believe, especially in a Divine Love.

So there has to be something deeper than knowledge of God's love. We have to have come to believe strongly in it, and the underlying goodness that brings us to trust even when it seems all have deserted or betrayed. There has to be that abode within oneself where one can hide when necessary while one works out the fear and all the emotions it brings. And hopefully, there is a good friend somewhere, just one, who understands, and whose very presence brings support and comfort.

Released Into Divine Light

 Darkness is not dark for you, and night shines as the day. (Ps 139:12). The concept continues to haunt me. When I speak of darkness, I am speaking of struggle, of unknowing, of confusion. So to have the psalm say that to God, darkness is not dark cannot mean he makes light of our human condition. I think it means that what we see as darkness can actually be a source for great light.

I think back to the benefits darkness has given me in the past. It made me stop and reflect, it destroyed preconceived ideals and notions, and I sank deeper into meditation. I stopped asking questions, because real darkness blots out even the formulation of questions. Darkness made me silence, so that I opened not my mouth. I became still before God. And because my expectations were dashed, I just sat there in silence and waited. Without knowing it, darkness forced me into contemplative prayer.

Only later in looking back do I see the rich fruits that came from such darkness. I was concerned about what I was giving to God. I'd forgotten he had something to give to me. I could only receive it after I relinquished my agenda and sat still before him.  My darkness taught me a different kind of prayer, one of listening.

Perhaps that is the real meaning behind the phrase of psalm 139. The very trials that punish the soul often reveal the hidden beauty we've not tapped into. And we seem to need the darkness so that we push ourselves beyond what is comfortable, what is admirable, what is acceptable. Nothing can seem more dehumanizing than to sit before God, dumb and knowing not what to say. And even as the soul groans, "Lord, what is it you want from me?" the soul is taking flight into a new type of faith, a new form of hope, into a light not known among mere mortals. Perhaps this kind of darkness releases the soul into the divine light of grace that brings the soul into a new sphere of understanding. Maybe this kind of darkness is no more than a cocoon where transformation takes place.

Darkness is Not Dark

Seeing and not seeing. It's often a topic here on Monastic Ponderings. We become conscious because we want to see. We practice compassion so that our hearts will respond better and know more. We meditate so that we are aware. It all implies a willingness to journey. But there is another aspect to our journey: a willingness to accept what that journey brings us.

It happens that sometimes we fail to see, not because we are spiritually blind, but because don't like what we see. The product is not what we expected, we'd hoped for more, or less, or better. We find ourselves in disbelief that after all we've done, this is the result? And so our journey has brought us to a point we do not want to be, with a decision we do not want to make, and a revelation we do not like. The resistance can be ever so slight, but resistance it is.

It just goes to show that no one ever "arrives" at a place where struggles cease, despite all the contrary rhetoric . The journey will always have its challenges, and we will always have choices. Paul complained about his own battles, and the reply he received was "My grace is sufficient for you."

Perhaps this is the meaning of psalm 139:12 Darkness is not dark for you, and night shines as the day. What we worry about is of little importance, because we often get it totally wrong. Knowing this should help. For revelation can be having our expectations thwarted so that what we think is replaced by what is. It's worth the thought. And isn't that what the journey is about anyway?

Beyond our Grasp

A thought came to my mind about hardness of heart, so I Googled the words to see how many scripture passages use this phrase. To my surprise, the search returned a huge amount of "hell and damnation" texts, sermons and websites. It actually proved just how hard hearted we "faith filled" people can be.

And that's the point. Faith can work against us as much as it can work for us. For part of hardness of heart comes from a misunderstanding of what it means to believe. And if our "faith" becomes a microscope to judge, I think we are mistaken.

We each suffer from hardness of heart to some degree. It's how we take responsibility for that condition that determines how successful we become in "softening" our hearts. Hardness of heart makes grace pour right over us instead of through us. Even if we hold out our hand, grace will be just beyond our grasp. That is why it is so necessary to recognize my own hardness and address it.

I believe hardness of heart will afflict our human condition as long as we live. I believe the goal is awareness, so that we don't step into the clouds of glory where little is real and much is contrived. I believe we must take stock of our whirl-wind lives, and find where we focus. For if we are attending to the matters of the heart, we are at least aware of our tendencies. And we won't have time to take stock of our neighbor.

Surviving Crisis

Someone has said that courage isn't a lack of fear, but the ability to overcome fear. I think the same applies to faith--its not a lack of anxiety about life and issues, or never doubting. It's the ability to overcome these.

I was trained otherwise, to believe that I should never be afraid, or doubt, or question. I tried to live that way, tried to believe that trust in the Lord meant an absence of anxiety. But such a way of life proved superficial as well as artificial. It did not stand the test of time. Luckily, my disillusionment did not destroy me, for I met someone who led me down a different path, one more authentic, one that recognized the need to address life as it happens, to call a spade a spade, and not let it throw you. One that didn't look at life simplistically, but accepted that each person's life is complicated and unique, and each person has different issues to overcome. This journey led me along a path that has proven rich in itself, for it called faith more of a lighthouse to illumine than a blanket to cover.

When you think you are lacking in faith because you are anxious, realize that you have a choice: to go forward with a conscious choice to trust in the process, or to blind yourself with thinking all will turn out well simply because you believe. And when things don't turn out as you expect, well, I hope you find someone to lead you down the path to reality, so you do not lose hope. Someone to open the door of truth, and encourage you to believe even when things don't turn out well. Because faith isn't an insurance policy. It is food for the journey that helps you through all the various crisis we experience in life.

The Agony of Waiting

Searching for answers. Sometimes I think the great many struggles I've endured in life come from my need for answers. I want to know, so I can plan, so I can feel secure, so I can make informed choices. Yet, life is not that clear or clean.

Recently another move brought out again my need for clarity. I worked hard, I tried to be attentive, and I sought direction. Yet, things weren't working out like I'd hoped. I grappled with the realization that trust means not knowing the whole picture, but accepting where I am now and being able to wait.

Wait. That's a hard one for me, and I suspect many others as well. I don't want to wait.  I want to run. I want to get on with my life, I want to put everything in order so I can feel secure and safe. And unanswered questions don't allow me to do that. They make me wait.

Maybe you can identity with this, the agony of waiting. There is a lesson to be learned in it, I'm sure. But I still don't like it!

Compassionate Power

In reading the gospel of Mark 1:21-22 recently, a discussion arose about the words, the people were astonished...for he taught them as one having authority and not as the scribes.

How does one teach with an authority not like the scribes? I think perhaps Jesus drew his hearers into a dialogue rather than instructed them like servants. He acted like one of them instead of talking down to them. Where's the authority in that? Well, think for a minute, who you would rather trust: the doctor right out of medical school, or the seasoned one who has had many years experience? We know the seasoned one has been around long enough to have had plenty of "trial and errors," and we tend to trust his instincts more.

I think Jesus taught in that kind of manner, as one who lived, not as one who theorized. He brought it to the people as a message to the individual, inviting dialogue, hearing the responses, tailoring the message to the situation. We've all heard enough generic messages given to the masses to last us more than a lifetime. Perhaps that is why Mark doesn't give us the conversation that sparked this comment. Maybe we wouldn't understand, because it was meant for their ears, not ours.

But just think: if this is the power of Jesus, then it is ours as well, every time we speak from our experience and not from our imagination. Every time we enter into earnest dialogue. Every time we treat the individual as unique, and not just part of the masses.

Blazing your own trail

A journey entry from March 12, 1998:

During my walks in the woods these past days, I noticed how difficult I find it to stay on the trails. For one, the lure of the wilderness, especially when there is a ridge to climb, is almost impossible for me to resist.

Secondly, when I follow a trail, I get disorientated easily and quickly. When I choose my own path, I am alert to the direction I decide to go.

Thirdly, when I break my own trail, I enjoy the scenery more. When I follow the trail, I'm so concerned with the markings that sign you are on the right path that I miss much of the scenery that is all around me. Afraid if I miss a marking, I might get lost.

So, I think there is more than a desire for adventure when I break from the trails.I think it is telling me something about life.

Such a simple account of my time at the Priory in West Chester, NY the winter of 1998. But the experience taught me so much. I began to realize my need to blaze my own trails, of choosing my own path, of letting my gut guide me rather than someone else. It took time, but what a valuable lesson it taught me!

So I say to you, if you are living life following someone else, give it up. You have a path to blaze for yourself. And I promise you, you won't find fulfillment until you break from the well trodden path and seek your own place.

Casting aside the Clouds

We read the the gospels that when John baptized Jesus in the Jordan, the heavens were opened...And a voice came from the heavens, saying, "This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased." (Mt 3:16-17)
 

So, what happened?  Something great is being revealed, and who is hearing it? More importantly, who is being changed by it?

How many times in our lives have similar wonderfully spiritual manifestations been made, with similar effect. It goes to show just how powerful we are. We can witness or experience, and yet still resist being moved.

If we only used that power to our advantage, what wonderful realities would break forth in our lives. Often our power is clouded by darkness that cast shadows of doubt, second-guessing, and fear. But shadows can be dispelled by reality. We have within ourselves an amazing ability to do nothing less than to effect change and to break patterns. Let's not let the opportunity slip pass us. Life is too short to miss out.

What is Simplicity?

I'm forever trying to learn to live with less. Another move, another clean out, and "what can I live without" evaluation. I think this is good. But I think, like anything else, it can go to the extreme.

Having lived within a monastery for many years, I learned how to live with little. But I also learned how to deny myself proper and even necessary needs. To deny your needs may seem harmless enough. But I believe it hardens the soul, instead of making it more sensitive. Fertile ground that is waterless is also fruitless.

In the effort to become spiritually minded persons, we must always remember our humanness. It's amazing when you read some spiritual writers and see the extreme asceticism in their language and practices, and then you read the gospels. Jesus never denied the human. In fact, he stood in stark contrast to the leaders of his time, who made many demands on the faithful, demands that make their lives complicated and difficult.

Perhaps that should be our measure: when I try to simplify my life, I need to watch and see if it really frees me, or if it makes my life more complicated and difficult. Am I headed toward hardness? Or does this letting go make me more human and fruitful?

Ah, isn't the spiritual journey fascinating?

The measure to guide us.

Lake Ontario in winter

To be or not to be quipped Shakespeare's Hamlet. Would that the quote was To be alone, or not to be alone. For that is our real dilemma. How to balance the two, the companionship we need and the space for our own personal time. Our debt to society and our obligations to ourselves. Our need for contemplation and our duty toward our sisters and brothers. When to enrich and charge our own souls, and when to reach a hand out to encourage the souls of others. There really is a fine line between the two.

Recent years has seen the push for activism. I remember when I entered the monastery years ago. An aunt and uncle sent me a card, underlining the words: When we serve others we serve God!. The message was clear. Burying myself in a monastery was selfish. Get out and do something for the world. And yet, all our rush to DO something has not much lessened the problems of the poor in society, or brought greater peace, or solved the dilemma of warring nations. There are times when a little reflection goes a lot farther than all the words and promises we make.

So how do we balance the two? That, my friend, is the rub. Balance.

No man is an island, says John Donne. Yes, our needs are complex, and in our effort to simplify, we must never forget that we are fearfully and wonderfully made (ps 139:14). We must work toward the two fields of activity and contemplation, we must find what works best for us, like a good diet. Because in the end, we cannot give to others what we do have ourselves. And to give of ourselves, we must first know ourselves.

Holding On to Revealing Moments

This quote from the Dalai Lama receives lots of attention: A change of heart is always a change of mind. But what does that mean, in reality?

I suppose we all have, at one point in our lives or another, experienced some kind of change of heart. But I don't think that automatically translates into a change of mind. I think for this phrase to ring true, we need to realize WE effect the change of mind, by noting how our heart changed, why, and to what purpose. Otherwise, the change of heart will be temporary, a momentary grace, a fleeting and passing inspiration. And what could be more tragic than to experience a revealing moment in my life only to let it slip into forgetfulness? I suspect this happen to us more often than we'd like to admit.

To seize the moment of grace requires more than an awareness, though that was what I was going to say at first. But I don't believe it is enough. Somehow, we have to "own" our grace. And I think to do that successfully, we have to work at keeping that grace alive so that it doesn't slip back into the darkness. There are several ways to do this: remembrance in gratitude, continued reflection on the before and after, a vivid recollection of the moment of grace. But I think, to really keep a moment of grace alive, we have to make changes that reflect that grace; to think differently we have to act differently; to effectively keep a grace alive means taking control of the change it has effected, and making sure it continues to day two, and day three, etc.

I'd love to hear what you think, as this thought is still working itself out in my mind, and I'm sure there are others out there with better answers!

Gazing with the Eye of the Soul

Perception. It's how we live our lives. And it can be so faulty. Richard Rohr speaks of the need to see like the mystics see. He explains: In the West, religion became preoccupied with telling people what to know more than how to know, telling people what to see more than how to see (The Naked Now 33) The results? We have fewer and fewer contemplatives, real contemplatives, whose vision is formed by silence, reflection, and wisdom.

So often we make our faith a matter of believing in mysteries, and tell ourselves that it is impossible to understand, that we must just accept. Such an attitude robs us of knowing our God. Because when we believe we can't know, we don't search.

Or we make it a matter of deep theology, something academic, agonizing, only open to intellectuals. As though God were some kind of snob that only an elite few can know.

To see like the mystics sees implies stepping back, not stepping up. It requires not so much a willingness to dig into the mysteries in search of knowledge as it does a watching that discoveries a personality. And just as we form friendships over time, so too, the mystic gaze allows us to "know" God over time, and understand him with the eye of the soul rather than with the mind. For if it is true of anyone, it is true of God, to know him is to love him.

Capturing the Truth Within Myself

Recently I caught myself in an exaggerated storytelling moment. Later, I thought about the need to always appear somewhat better than I really am, and I asked myself why? Why is it so difficult to present myself without the hype?

I suspect I am not alone in this dilemma. Somehow, we just don't like to be human, bruised, faulty, imperfect. We somehow think that is unacceptable. Somehow, we think others will think better of us if we present a  picture better than who we really are.

And yet, truth is a lot more compelling, more convincing, more refreshing.

The Truth will set you free says John 8:32. We cannot portray the truth until we first capture it within ourselves. That means leaving off the need to be superior, accepting ourselves in reality, knowing ourselves. It means we must spend a lot of time with ourselves, taking off the rose-colored glasses and looking into the mirror with honesty. It means that we should admit that sometimes we are not okay. Sometimes we need prodding. Sometimes we do act in ways unbecoming and belittling. Yes, we are fragile and made of clay.

Will I ever stop telling exaggerated stories about myself? Probably not. I love the look of disbelief I can bring to another's eyes. But I will also never stop trying to learn the real me, to portray the real me when it is serious and important, and to accept who I really am. For there is no fault in being human. Only in pretending not to be.

Reflecting on the Context of the Meaning

Reflecting on the context of the meaning. I read that line recently. The phrase caught my attention because it said to me, hey! you, stop and think.

Modern day communications don't give us much time to stop and think. We are bombarded with color, sound and sight, objects that flash, words that pack. The hoped-for effect is to excit. But that kind of excitement is short lived, and leaves much to be desired.

Reflecting on the context of our lives can seem difficult and challenging, but it offers rich rewards! Like true freedom and authentic relaxation. Think of how many sunsets we miss because we are buried in work or engrossed in our preparations for the next meeting, the next proposal, the next event. Think of the real cost we pay because we are unwillingness to reflect. Often that includes the loss of experiencing that which is awesome, mystical, and inspiring in life.

I learned to appreciate reflecting not in a monastery cloister walk, but on my early morning walks in the park. I started going to exercise, but ended up using the walk for reflection. That was because the time spent proved powerful. I went very early, before anyone else ventured out. At first I had to fight the temptation to  listen to my favorite podcast as I walked. I feared being "bored". But as time went on, I wasn't even tempted, because I experienced awesome moments of nature. As I walked in silence, taking in nature around me, thoughts would flood my mind, and I would reflect. There were wonderful sights and sounds I could never have imagined, such as the morning I saw deer feeding on a meadow dense with fog. The sight was worthy of a painting. But I saw it for real. Another morning I witnessed a fire that caught the clouds as the sun rose and spread it across the entire sky, filling it with every shade of red imaginable. Recently, I experienced a deeply mystical walk along the Delaware River. The fog hung heavy in the air, cloaking trees, grasses, river and the geese flying low over it. The scene took on eerie and mythical proportions. As I walked, the sights fed my soul, and I came away so enriched I am still on a high from it all.

Reflect on the context of the meaning. If we could but simplify our lives, we would see better, hear more, suffer less.

It's worth a try.

Manifesting Through Contemplative Gaze

If we decide to carve out a space for ourselves each day, one where there is silence and reflection, we are in truth preparing ourselves for contemplative gazing. And becoming mystical is all about the ability to practice the contemplative gaze. Richard Rohr defines a mystic simply as one who has moved from mere belief systems or belonging systems to actual inner experience (Naked Now, 29-30). Such definition makes clear why it is necessary to cultivate the contemplative gaze; so that I move beyond what I believe into how I live it.

Funny how much of our actions are first caught up in our soul. There is truth in Rene Descartes's philosophical supposition: I think, therefore I am. We who are spiritual can put a different spin on these words and paraphrase it thus: What I believe remains only a doctrine. I must contemplate it, meditate on it, ponder it thoughtfully until it becomes the blood in my veins and the breath in my soul. Then, it will manifest itself not by what I say, but by the intensity  with which I live.

Just another reason to make the resolution to spend time in silence and quiet, learning how to be still and open the soul to the spirit. If you do this faithfully, your spiritual vision will become accustomed to any kind of darkness life throws at you, and you will hold steady and continue the journey.

To Love What God Loves

Yesterday at the service I attended the priest asked how many in the congregation had made New Year's resolutions. Two of us raised our hands. The guy chuckled and said, "So you'll still doing that," as if we were to be pitied. I sat there and thought, what?

I've heard it before. "Well, I never keep my New Year's resolution, so I've stopped making them." To me, nothing is more pitiable than that kind of attitude. Well, almost nothing. Because such words and sentiments come from those who have given up. Why resolve? You'll only break that resolution. So don't bother.

I think what bothers me the most is the why bother attitude. How can I continue to make progress as a person if I don't bother? How can I increase my attention, deepen my spirit, become more aware of the Divine if I don't bother? My journey is a active happening. I cannot sit by the sidelines and expect my life to deepen by itself.

I wonder if such attitudes come because many resolutions are only "corrective". I believe such resolutions stem from a deeper, hidden, self-loathing. Why, when we think of making things better, is our first thought to attack our own self, to alter it in some drastic form, to bash it or humiliate it or reform it? It's no wonder we get tired and burnt out with such resolutions.


Resolutions should enhance our person, not destroy it. If we have bad habits, they often stem from deeper conflicts, conflicts that are better addressed through meditation, reflection, and acceptance. It's amazing how such practices can open up the heart and help us to love the very one we have most difficulty loving: ourselves.

I encourage you, if you've given up on resolutions, to attempt a spiritual one this year, one more accepting and gentle on your soul. And if you are making resolutions, I urge you to cast aside the ones that attack your person, and instead opt for something that feeds your soul. In all of this, remember the words from John 3:16 For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten son, so that we might not perish, but have eternal life. We need resolutions that give life.

A Happy New Year Wish!

Happy New Year! My hope for you is that you may find your heart's desires this coming year, and seek the fulfillment of your dreams. That your choices will reflect your values, so that others find inspiration in you. That you will think big, dream even bigger, and accomplish all through your hard efforts. May you laugh heartily, love generously and live fully. May you want what is possible, and make possible all that you seek. May the past strengthen you for the future, and the present reflect what is best of your past.

This is my wish for each one of your this coming year. And for myself!