This past weekend I was part of a spectacular wedding. What made it spectacular was not the dollar amount expended (it was actually done on a shoestring, comparatively), nor was it the stunning beauty of the bride (though in fact she was just that) nor the swarthy handsomeness of the groom (ditto). What made it spectacular was that it involved family and friends in a very unique and special way.
The bride is a Brazilian from a small coastal town an hour’s flight north of Rio called Aracaju. Aside from the fact that she speaks little English and communicates with her new husband through their mutual Spanish and the expressions of her always sparkling eyes, she had come to our area to get married here first so that her citizenship might be made easier; leaving the formal hometown wedding to take place in November. That meant that all of her family who could not make the trip were still back home and would miss the event.
Not if we could help it. So the internet jockeys among our friends who were putting together all the arrangements, arranged for the friends and family to be in one room with a computer hook-up via Skype. We, at the other end had a series of digital cameras and webcams trained on the entire ceremony, and bingo, the world got smaller! The most special part was about three-quarters of the way through the ceremony, they turned up the volume in the Brazilian room and the family spoke to their daughter, granddaughter, and sister. Though most of us present spoke no Portuguese, the international language of joy and pride and tears was more than enough to know what was meant.
Lately I have been ragging on the Twitter-hyped world of obsessed technology. But I lay that all down today because somewhere in Brazil, a grandmother is boasting to her friends about how beautiful her child was walking in the sunlit path toward her new life; how tender the kiss was and how radiant she looked on her first dance – because she was there and saw it all. That was spectacular!
Monday, July 20, 2009
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Spiritual Discipline
Spirituality is a discipline not a concept, and of late I have been undisciplined. I have not been attending church services, I have not been praying at the beginning, end and/or the middle of my days, I have not been reading sacred literature. All of these practices and more are the disciplines of my spirituality, and I have become lazy and lethargic. Well it is not that I have become that - it's more like that is who I am and the disciplines take me away from my natural state.
I exercise every morning, and people always say things like, "Oh, you are so disciplined. I wish I could be like that!" That is not, I explain, discipline. I exercise because I have no other choice. Without exercise my left leg, orphaned by an athletic injury that cut off much of the nervous impulses that once went there, starts cramping up around 3PM or so. I HAVE to exercise!
But it appears as though my soul does not go into spasms if I forget to pray one day - and the next - and the next after it. It just withers and atrophies until one day I wake up all cranky without the slightest reason for why. My spirituality takes effort, routine and training. I believe the definition for discipline is a practice that shapes and molds the spirit. Without the regular rigor of those exercises, my soul looses shape - without the slightest hint. It just goes away.
Last night I did a whole mess of sit-ups for the first time in a while and my stomach aches today. It's a good ache, the kind I want to feel again in the pit of my soul.
I exercise every morning, and people always say things like, "Oh, you are so disciplined. I wish I could be like that!" That is not, I explain, discipline. I exercise because I have no other choice. Without exercise my left leg, orphaned by an athletic injury that cut off much of the nervous impulses that once went there, starts cramping up around 3PM or so. I HAVE to exercise!
But it appears as though my soul does not go into spasms if I forget to pray one day - and the next - and the next after it. It just withers and atrophies until one day I wake up all cranky without the slightest reason for why. My spirituality takes effort, routine and training. I believe the definition for discipline is a practice that shapes and molds the spirit. Without the regular rigor of those exercises, my soul looses shape - without the slightest hint. It just goes away.
Last night I did a whole mess of sit-ups for the first time in a while and my stomach aches today. It's a good ache, the kind I want to feel again in the pit of my soul.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Father's Day
So I am a few days late but after a recent conversation I have been thinking about what fatherhood really means. And I think we have it backwards a bit. What we really might mean when we honor fathers is not how we fathers as cool and groovy, but perhaps how very honored we are to be "father" to some one.
So for me, I have been thrice honored. The gifts I have been given are beautifully unique and wonderful. My eldest is a blessing of the deepest spiritual kind. She has always been able to put into words those mysteries most of us can only feel. Her gift of speech, her wisdom that has been evident since her childhood and her passion and compassion are wonders to me and I have had the honor of being a steward of her as she grew into what she is today.
My second is spiritual in a different way. She has always had a sixth (and maybe a seventh and eighth) sense about people. She can read a room like a book and can actually see how you are feeling without your ever speaking a word. And her touch - her touch is nothing less than divine healing. She is sensing incarnate and has turned that into a gift she uses to heal any with whom she has contact. But beyond that this one is a peacemaker. She is a truth-teller and an arbiter who cannot be ignored or dismissed. She WILL change you!
And my son, my word, what an honor to be gifted with him! He is sensitive - I don't have any other word for it - he feels things with an amplification that makes him like a receiver. Sometimes I have to be careful what I expose him to because he feels it so deeply. We don't know how he'll turn out (he's only 11) but his gift is already evident. No less articulate than his sisters, this one is destined for another type of greatness.
So this Father's Day I really did get some gifts - the gifts that just keep on giving. You can't get better than that!
So for me, I have been thrice honored. The gifts I have been given are beautifully unique and wonderful. My eldest is a blessing of the deepest spiritual kind. She has always been able to put into words those mysteries most of us can only feel. Her gift of speech, her wisdom that has been evident since her childhood and her passion and compassion are wonders to me and I have had the honor of being a steward of her as she grew into what she is today.
My second is spiritual in a different way. She has always had a sixth (and maybe a seventh and eighth) sense about people. She can read a room like a book and can actually see how you are feeling without your ever speaking a word. And her touch - her touch is nothing less than divine healing. She is sensing incarnate and has turned that into a gift she uses to heal any with whom she has contact. But beyond that this one is a peacemaker. She is a truth-teller and an arbiter who cannot be ignored or dismissed. She WILL change you!
And my son, my word, what an honor to be gifted with him! He is sensitive - I don't have any other word for it - he feels things with an amplification that makes him like a receiver. Sometimes I have to be careful what I expose him to because he feels it so deeply. We don't know how he'll turn out (he's only 11) but his gift is already evident. No less articulate than his sisters, this one is destined for another type of greatness.
So this Father's Day I really did get some gifts - the gifts that just keep on giving. You can't get better than that!
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Ordaination
Yesterday I witnessed an ancient Rite of Passage, one that has been handed down through thousands of years. The ordination of priests was first described in Exodus (though in typical ancient Judaism, with sufficient quantities of blood splashed about) and has been a ritual observed for consecrating our spiritual leaders since the earliest of times. It is, however, a double-edged sword. In one ceremony the ordinand is both lifted up as a leader, and humbled forever into the servant's role forever placing the ordained person in an irresolvable paradox.
Perhaps that paradox is purposeful as it serves to keep the priest in the question, and it is only in the not-knowing state that one is clear enough to see, feel and experience the Divine. Perhaps its purpose is to make certain that the power of spiritual leadership is never abused (which, history has proven, is so easily done). I cannot say - I just don't know. But as with most ritual, I am certain it is on purpose!
But the culmination of the Rite, is a point when the other priests, and ordained who have mentored and taught the new initiate lay their hands on the ordinand and pass the blessing and the paradoxical commission on to her. I am told by those who have received this, that it feels light a lightning bolt passing through your body.
Yesterday I witnessed the ritual of ordination for probably the 10th time, though for me it felt like the first time. I got to see that ancient tradition passed on
to my daughter. And for me it was an out-of-body experience (I can only ask her what it was like up there). And I will let her tell others whether the lightning struck.
But what I can say is that the greatest gift a father can receive is to see his children honored - in form and title (like Reverend, or Doctor or whatever). It is the most unbelievable and breathtaking experience. Yesterday was one such day, and the power of that blessing really hit me - like a lightning bolt passed right through me!
Perhaps that paradox is purposeful as it serves to keep the priest in the question, and it is only in the not-knowing state that one is clear enough to see, feel and experience the Divine. Perhaps its purpose is to make certain that the power of spiritual leadership is never abused (which, history has proven, is so easily done). I cannot say - I just don't know. But as with most ritual, I am certain it is on purpose!
But the culmination of the Rite, is a point when the other priests, and ordained who have mentored and taught the new initiate lay their hands on the ordinand and pass the blessing and the paradoxical commission on to her. I am told by those who have received this, that it feels light a lightning bolt passing through your body.
Yesterday I witnessed the ritual of ordination for probably the 10th time, though for me it felt like the first time. I got to see that ancient tradition passed on
to my daughter. And for me it was an out-of-body experience (I can only ask her what it was like up there). And I will let her tell others whether the lightning struck. But what I can say is that the greatest gift a father can receive is to see his children honored - in form and title (like Reverend, or Doctor or whatever). It is the most unbelievable and breathtaking experience. Yesterday was one such day, and the power of that blessing really hit me - like a lightning bolt passed right through me!
Gifts
Least anyone reading my last entry (On Becoming An Elder) think me a depressive or negatively-oriented person, let me just add that life itself is a gift. Everything about is a gift - especially the present (time)! But do we really earn gifts or are they given, just because the giver wants to give? I think the latter, whether the giver is life, the cosmos, god, your best friend or a family member. Gifts are given, not earned.
Whizzing past 60 at relatively break-neck speed, celebrating its passage in living color, with family and a great many friends, but in celebration of life is how I would have wanted it - and befitting my attitude on life and living. This is all a gift. So much of my experience in life - the greatest percentage by far and away - is just given to me as a gift. I delight in every moment and even in retrospect have fully embraced the few lumps and bumps of my own screw-ups.
So if these gifts are not of my doing but the lessons of my failures are, then I can only lay claim to those. Oh sure - did I actually DO the accomplishments? Yes, I ran the Boston Marathon, yes I hiked the Himalayas, yes, I have DONE so many things of which I am proud. But these occur to me as the gifts of my privileged life - the gifts I have been given. Without the gift, they would not have been nearly as possible. So, yes, I did something with the gifts I was given. And when I messed up the opportunity - the gift - I learned, and grew, and gained. The gift never lost its giving properties.
So I seem to have talked myself into a corner here. Life is a gift (but only when I/we receive and do something with it), the lessons of failure, were sourced from a gift, that I could only receive after I got the lesson. So I either have to claim it all as mine, (given to me to do with and/or fumble as best I can), or recognizing them all as gifts, step back and be thankful for the abundance of gifts I have been given.
Whizzing past 60 at relatively break-neck speed, celebrating its passage in living color, with family and a great many friends, but in celebration of life is how I would have wanted it - and befitting my attitude on life and living. This is all a gift. So much of my experience in life - the greatest percentage by far and away - is just given to me as a gift. I delight in every moment and even in retrospect have fully embraced the few lumps and bumps of my own screw-ups.
So if these gifts are not of my doing but the lessons of my failures are, then I can only lay claim to those. Oh sure - did I actually DO the accomplishments? Yes, I ran the Boston Marathon, yes I hiked the Himalayas, yes, I have DONE so many things of which I am proud. But these occur to me as the gifts of my privileged life - the gifts I have been given. Without the gift, they would not have been nearly as possible. So, yes, I did something with the gifts I was given. And when I messed up the opportunity - the gift - I learned, and grew, and gained. The gift never lost its giving properties.
So I seem to have talked myself into a corner here. Life is a gift (but only when I/we receive and do something with it), the lessons of failure, were sourced from a gift, that I could only receive after I got the lesson. So I either have to claim it all as mine, (given to me to do with and/or fumble as best I can), or recognizing them all as gifts, step back and be thankful for the abundance of gifts I have been given.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
On Becoming an Elder
Well, it's official: I am now 60 years of age. It doesn't feel any different - really. Oh there are things like I can't life a refrigerator anymore and a solid day of construction makes me ache all over, but other than a few aches and pains, my mind still thinks I am something like 48, to pick an arbitrarily stupid figure.
But this number comes with some titles and labels, the main one of which that I would like to adopt is "elder." Now being or becoming an elder carries some trappings with it. For example, it is precisely twice the age we swore never to trust anyone older than, back in the 60's. It probably looks a tad silly for an elder to be rocking out to AC/DC, so my view of myself as a rocker may need some alterations. But most formally, an elder ought to be a mentor, not to anyone specifically, but to society and people in general.
So what is it that I have to give? On what do I offer my mentoring? All I really have to claim solely as my own are these scars - wounds from various battles - and lessons taken from really screwing up royally. But, you see, that is the wisdom of aging. We don't really learn much from our successes. We simply note it and say something like, "Cool, that worked!" But our failures - wow - we ponder them; we slice and dice and analyze them until we figure out where we went wrong and use the pain of the failure to make certain that the lesson sinks in so that we don't repeat the same mistake.
Several years ago I wrote an op-ed piece on what I called the "Shadow Resume" - the compilation, not of all our good accomplishments, but of our lessons taken from the crash-and-burn failures. That is what I have to offer today - I survived all of those tough, painful, don't-want-to-do-that again stuff. Perhaps it is all any of us really can lay claim to.
But this number comes with some titles and labels, the main one of which that I would like to adopt is "elder." Now being or becoming an elder carries some trappings with it. For example, it is precisely twice the age we swore never to trust anyone older than, back in the 60's. It probably looks a tad silly for an elder to be rocking out to AC/DC, so my view of myself as a rocker may need some alterations. But most formally, an elder ought to be a mentor, not to anyone specifically, but to society and people in general.
So what is it that I have to give? On what do I offer my mentoring? All I really have to claim solely as my own are these scars - wounds from various battles - and lessons taken from really screwing up royally. But, you see, that is the wisdom of aging. We don't really learn much from our successes. We simply note it and say something like, "Cool, that worked!" But our failures - wow - we ponder them; we slice and dice and analyze them until we figure out where we went wrong and use the pain of the failure to make certain that the lesson sinks in so that we don't repeat the same mistake.
Several years ago I wrote an op-ed piece on what I called the "Shadow Resume" - the compilation, not of all our good accomplishments, but of our lessons taken from the crash-and-burn failures. That is what I have to offer today - I survived all of those tough, painful, don't-want-to-do-that again stuff. Perhaps it is all any of us really can lay claim to.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Unraveling The Threads
It is funny how this process works - this introspective thing, I mean. As I have been rapidly approaching the completion of six decades of residence on this orb, a date which is now less than a month away, I have been on a quest of unraveling the icon of self-ness which I have fabricated from the strands of memories, events, accomplishments and failures, to discover what lies beneath and beyond all of that. In two recent blogs I have peeled that down to the raw, naked "so what, now what?" However, that has all been about discovering who and what I actually am in my authentic self. But what then of god?
Following the same logic - that the concept of god is mostly a fabrication of myths and beliefs passed on to me by others, sewn together with experiences and reflections of my own - then what is or might be god that is not that when and if we are able to strip that away? The theologian John Ackerman makes the beautiful distinction between the god of our experiences and the experience of god. It raises the question of whether we can ever, really experience god's god-ness devoid of our preconceived categories and language for those experiences. Is it possible to have an authentic experience of the divine? I cannot speak for anyone else here, as I am certain to offend the righteous, the devout believers and he "faithful," so I will speak only of myself.
I have entered on a quest of discovery to seek the authentic experience of god without categories, words, theologies, epistimologies, and eschatologies (don't you just theo-babble!!). I choose to call this phase of spiritual development the Seeker phase (for lack of any better term). I feel like a Seeker. Armed with only a knapsack, a notebook (as it were) and nothing more, I have strapped on the proverbial hiking shoes and headed out into the wilderness of not knowing. These posts have been postcards from that trek, notes along the way as I continue to explore my unknown world. I would love to invite you along and ask that those of you who read these posts occasionally check in with me. Am I making sense? Do you take issue with these precepts? I will never know by myself, just as I will never know who I am without being in relationship with you all. Well? Is there anyone out there?
Following the same logic - that the concept of god is mostly a fabrication of myths and beliefs passed on to me by others, sewn together with experiences and reflections of my own - then what is or might be god that is not that when and if we are able to strip that away? The theologian John Ackerman makes the beautiful distinction between the god of our experiences and the experience of god. It raises the question of whether we can ever, really experience god's god-ness devoid of our preconceived categories and language for those experiences. Is it possible to have an authentic experience of the divine? I cannot speak for anyone else here, as I am certain to offend the righteous, the devout believers and he "faithful," so I will speak only of myself.
I have entered on a quest of discovery to seek the authentic experience of god without categories, words, theologies, epistimologies, and eschatologies (don't you just theo-babble!!). I choose to call this phase of spiritual development the Seeker phase (for lack of any better term). I feel like a Seeker. Armed with only a knapsack, a notebook (as it were) and nothing more, I have strapped on the proverbial hiking shoes and headed out into the wilderness of not knowing. These posts have been postcards from that trek, notes along the way as I continue to explore my unknown world. I would love to invite you along and ask that those of you who read these posts occasionally check in with me. Am I making sense? Do you take issue with these precepts? I will never know by myself, just as I will never know who I am without being in relationship with you all. Well? Is there anyone out there?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
.jpg)
