Be Careful What You Ask For

Years ago a friend and mentor told me that every day he said a kind of prayer to know God's will for him. He said it with full earnestness, and then one day he was smacked right in the face with a challenge that was way bigger than he had ever imagined. It became his job but he told me, "Be careful what you ask for - you just might get it."

I have been asking for a way to learn how to stay vulnerable while doing the work for which I trained throughout my adult life. It turns out that there isn't really a way to learn it - like there is no step one then step two. Nor is there a way to just put one's big toe into the pool of vulnerability to test the water temperature. It appears to me that vulnerability, as a state of being, either is something you are
or you aren't. It's kind of like being pregnant - there is no such thing as somewhat pregnant. And my lesson of late is that it is the same with vulnerability. You either are or you are not.

So it has come to the point where I must jump into the deep end of the pool and decide to live this way. There is no other choice - I cannot turn back and and stay defended and closed any longer. It is no longer a choice I will make. And what has opened up the deep end to me is that I had to let go of the fear of "what will people think?" The answer came pretty clearly to me over the last few days of training in which I have been participating: They will think I am being vulnerable. And overall that is not such a bad thing.

Brene Brown says that vulnerability without boundaries is not vulnerability. It's stupidity! So it's not like choosing to be vulnerable and live life from a more transparent stand means walking around naked all day or through a tough neighborhood alone at night. It means creating safe places and conditions for vulnerability to live and pull us all together. And with that it means knowing that home and among friends are some of those places. At least it is where I am starting. And the more I practice that with the ones I love and trust, the more I am able to know how to bring it to life in the public world. Wish me luck!

Wings, What Wings

Though I have never asked a caterpillar or a chrysalis or a butterfly for that matter about the formation of their wings, I am quite certain that their development is a process that happens without the respective bug-phase's awareness - if said creatures can be said to have awareness at all.

What one may notice about the development of wings is probably akin to what one notices about the transformation through which they may be going. From the inside nothing seems to have changed - I am still the same man, still married to the same woman, and still struggling to lift my emotional body out of the swamp of sadness over my "losses" at it were. But what seems different is what others say to me. "You sound different."

"Really, in what way?"

"Oh I don't know - you seem different, more introspective, quieter." But I don't want to be quieter. I need to be my powerful self in order to deal with the clients I had - despite the fact that I am trying to bring out a different message. My new message is that coaching and leadership first must come from the heart, not the intention of a zealous ego. But more importantly, I have to walk the talk. I understand now what my teacher Richard Rohr means when he says "unless you allow yourself to be humiliated by life's trials, you can't understand the bigger life."

Greetings from Inside the Chrysalis

The really remarkable thing about my brother's photography (See my previous post on "You Thought It Was Easy?") is the process he used called "Focus Stacking" which provides an image so rich in detail that it can be blown up a hundred fold and still not pixelate. As the caterpillar turned to just worm-guts and then hardened its outer surface in the creation of the chrysalis, it was clear that there was no element of butterfly inside that package. And yet over the next few day's pictures, as the outer layer of that jade cocoon thinned you could see something happening. New lines and dark shapes could ever-so-faintly be seen through the surface. Change - real transformative change - was happening.

This creature just did what it was programmed in its DNA to do. But we humans, and this one in particular, far too often are wed to the past understanding of who we think we are.  Our memories of past successes and failures are blended and baked into a story that becomes our map for moving forward.  Constructivism (a field of psychology) says that we can only perceive new events within the context and framework for which we have a vocabulary and a basis of antecedent experiences with which to make sense of them. Actual "new: learning or behaviors are difficult to produce because we simply do not have the tools to produce them and we are too attached to the story already and always running in our mind. But what if that story (and that is what it is, the story we made up about what some event meant - not at all the actual event itself) is fictional? Mark Twain once quipped, "the older I get, the more vividly I can remember things that never happened!"

But inside the chrysalis, nothing of caterpillar, except for some of the worm guts, remain. Caterpillar is lost - not just forgotten - but totally gone forever. And that is what is called for in transformation: I must lose the story. All of it. I must lose the one about how I can do it by myself. Lose the story of how I am alone in this quest. Lose the story of "if you want something done right, do it yourself (thanks dad and Abe Lincoln for that one)." Lose the story that I am somehow better or stronger or more creative on my own than with any others as a pair, trio or group (Yes I know how arrogant that sounds - and inside here, that arrogance must die as well).

I am baffled as I peer through the enlarged picture of the cocoon and see what look like lines of a patterned wing are beginning to form. How is that possible? How can a black, yellow and white striped multi-legged worm lose all its defining characteristics and, as we will see in a few days, emerge as a skinny, six-legged insect with vibrantly colored orange and black wings. Transformation makes no logical sense.

Wrestling the Angel

For the past two years I have been researching and writing about the dark night of the soul, that place which on the outside looks like some spiritual desert, but inwardly is where the ego is stripped of its death hold on what it thinks it knows of the spiritual realm. On this journey I have met real life mystics and everyday people having mystical experiences.  I have had the blessing of friendships that are transforming and I have lost a few very dear ones as well. In many of these instances, had I not been studying the dark night, these special moments may have zipped right past me or thrown me into an unexpected downward spiral. But somehow I was graced by each of those occurrences and have come out just a tad more aware as a result.

Over the next few months or so, I will post bits and pieces from my thesis as I rework sections for publication.  I hope that which I have captured in this research can provide guidance or sustenance to fellow travelers who wrestle with their own angels or demons (do we ever know which it is that has grabbed us from behind?)

I think Rev. Renita Weems captured it best in the opening of her book, Listening For God: "No one is ever prepared to endure the long silence that follows intimacy. No one is prepared to face it when it comes after lovemaking. No one is prepared to face it when it comes after a season of intimacy with God. It is the hardest thing to talk about, and it is the hardest thing in the spiritual journey to prepare for. The long silence between intimacies, the interminable pause between words, the immeasurable seconds between pulses, the quiet between epiphanies, the hush after ecstasy, the listening for God – this is the spiritual journey, learning how to live in the meantime, between the last time you heard from God and the next you hear from God.

I would be honored if you'd let me know what you think.

Trust Fall

I am currently reading The Ascent of Mount Carmel by John of the Cross; the book in which he outlines the steps and process of the dark night of the soul.  John's description of the way in which one "prepares" for this journey toward god is huge - and risky!  Think of the preparation this way: you cannot be intimate (you know sexually intimate) by yourself - it takes two to do that tango!  But what you can do it prepare yourself for intimacy.  You can adopt the "position" of intimacy - open, vulnerable, hungry and waiting.  And to increase the sensuousness of it all you could even close your eyes and let your lover "surprise" your senses.  Love is a giant game of "Trust Fall."  Close your eyes, fold your arms over your chest, tuck your chin, lean back over the cliff, and let yourself fall into the arms of your lover.

John is saying somewhat the same thing about achieving intimacy with god.  You cannot do this willfully on your own.  But you need to adopt the position of readiness. That position, he says, is that you need to starve your senses, and get to a place of total not-knowing, because any thought that you might have about god or the experience of god is in the way of actually experiencing god this time and the next time, and so on.  Any sensation you have a longing for and any "knowing of what that connection may have felt like before, if still present inside you, will be looking to stuff this next encounter into that same wonderful place.

And god refuses admission to any of those boxes.  God cannot be described, containerized or labeled by any human classification system.  So all our thoughts and feelings have to be stripped away (and they do not go quietly) so that however and whatever is next in the smorgasbord of god-encounters can manifest however and whenever it manifests.

Now here is the thing we need to get: god is already and always there/here inside and with us.  And it is really all of our thoughts, emotions, feelings and memories (including the very moment we have one) of our encounter, our touching, that awareness that get in the way of having that awareness. Close your eyes and lean back!

The Dark Night of the Soul

The time for writing my Master's thesis at my seminary is rapidly approaching and the topic I have chosen is the transformative effects of the dark night of the soul. Now there are two problems associated with this:  One is that unless someone has been up against that wall or had their psyche squished through that pinhole, it is an academic discussion that makes little sense on anything other than a hypothetical level. The second is that many of the processes within that transformation are nonlinear and happen to you as opposed to something you do or even participate in.

Dark nights, generically speaking, are those times when the current level of understanding and experience one has no longer work and must die off in order to make way for a new and deeper connectivity.  Most people speak of the dark night as the place where prayer and connection dry up - they lose that feeling that somehow they are connected to god.  But that is just the signpost along the road! It's kind of like that signpost in the Wizard of Oz that says "certain death ahead" and "I wouldn't go further." And then you step forward.

The transformative effects of these dark nights are hard to describe, though I have attempted to find a language for them.  I keep running into the limits of consensual definitions. As I continue to scan through the literature both in print and on line, I find two camps of dark night literature that I recently tried describing to my son as those that get it and those that don't.

It is really amazing to read the words of those who have been through this continual and de-layering process.  They almost look forward to the next wave of nausea - knowing that it is certainly coming. They breathe differently and there is an acceptance in their speaking that is open and relaxed and all-encompassing.  Finding an academic way to present this "process" and producing attributions and descriptions of that difference will be challenging at the very least. But the thing I worry most about is writing in a way that even slightly suggests a smugness of knowing.  If anything, the dark nights have taught me that I do not know a thing.

Using the Bible

For far too long, I have been reading things on line (news reports, elected officials' quotations and FaceBook opinions) that refer in one way or another to some scriptural reference. And I thing it is time I took a stand. It seems to me that this is a gross misuse of the scripture - well, perhaps better stated, it is a gross misunderstanding of the scripture. Contrary to the 623 laws found in the Old Testament, among which are the Ten Commandments, the bible is not a book of laws, nor a code of ethics to which we should refer when troubled with a question of what to do or how to handle this and that.

To me the bible is a training ground filled with thought provoking and at (many) times conflicting and puzzling predicaments in the guise of either mythical stories or recollected chronicles of something that happened often a long time before ever being written down.  Taken as a whole it is a collection of stories designed to push one's beliefs, thoughts and values by trying to understand the real meaning and intent.  Reading the bible should cause one to reflect, puzzle over and be perplexed by the content.  But as a result of that, there exist sentences here and there - and sometimes even juxtaposed right after each other - which when lifted out of the whole could be used to justify or support any side of just about any argument. And that, unfortunately is too often what too many people have tried to do.

However, it is my belief that the bible is meant to be a tool for spiritual development, designed to disturb and push at your belief structures until you can move to a deeper understanding. But it takes a great deal of personal inner work to be able to read the bible and allow it to disturb you the way it should. Oh sure, we all say we know what the beatitudes say and mean, but do you really?  They are paradoxical at best and when one considers to whom they were spoken - the poor and oppressed of the time - they must have sounded like nonsense. Much of the master's teachings were like that. But Jesus was not the only purveyor of paradox. It is all through the entire bible - it's just how good Rabbis taught.

And that is perhaps the point of this opinion: people who have not done the inner work of the faith journey, who have not confronted and done battle with their ego will always be tempted to read passages to support their ego's opinion and justify their own actions. Like Job's defensive discourses, we are seeking to vindicate ourselves and prove we are right. But, like the beautiful myth of Job concludes, it is only when we approach sacred literature from not knowing, listening to what is there in the entire story, and then letting its contradictions and nuances sink in and knock another part of our knowing loose, that we really hear and begin to understand.

Theist or Atheist

One of my very best friends is an atheist. He is a doctor and a scientist and prides himself in his use of logic when dealing with questions of life and meaning. Last week when our families got together for dinner we got into a discussion of beliefs – one might be tempted to call it a theological discussion. It started with a compliment on something I had written in this blog – it had made him think. And so the conversation was on.
Most of my friend’s questions about religion are wrapped up in an understanding of religion that smacks of pre-Vatican II Catholicism mixed with fundamentalist Sunday school platitudes – and, no, I do not believe in all of that. But if I don’t believe in a robed grandfatherly Michelangelo god, he asked, then who or what is god? Well, I start talking about Tillich’s concept of the ground of being and the in-dwelling force of life which is what I call god. But I cannot point to it I say. So I try to make an analogy: I ask, “Where is the life in one of your patients? Can you point to a place in the body?” How is it that at one moment the patient is alive and the next moment, still and lifeless? What happened? Was it the stress of the operation? Had he touched some life line that flipped the switch? No. Of course not. There is no place that holds life more than the other (though I suppose you could argue for the heart or the brain – but he got my point).
And that is when he pops the real question; “Are you afraid of dying? Because I am terrified of the nothingness.” Behind the question was the whole eschatological orchestration of heaven and hell and afterlife and redemption, and my friend just could not get his logic to go there. I told him that I really did not know if there was anything after death. Perhaps it just ends there for our bodies. But this life force that beats within our hearts, I believed, did continue. No, I did not believe in the resurrection of our bodily physical form – because then I would have to ask which form – my 21 year old or my 36 year old or this failing 62 year old body. My ego might want the youthful one but, I told him that it was my belief that most of the afterlife stories were the fantasies of too many men’s egos desire for special treatment. And I don’t believe in that kind of god – a god that grants favors.
I told him I felt that god was the source of life and that that force ran through all things – but that is was everywhere and nowhere at the same time. You cannot point to god any more than he could point to life. And when our physical bodies die, that life force simply rejoins with the mass of universal energy that is god. He told me I sounded like an atheist (in terms of the actual definition of the word) and I told him he sounded like a believer who was missing words to describe his fears and concerns. I don’t really know, but I do know that we aren’t that far apart, that such discussions don’t scare me, and that each time we have these talks, we both feel closer as friends.

Whose Prayer?

Here’s another one of those thoughts that I have that may not be terribly popular. It has to do with how we pray and with the essence of prayer. And sorry - this is a bit longer than usual.

The great teacher Jeshua of Nazareth almost never answered a question directly (Another sorry, about the Josh thing. Folks tend to get flaky about his popular name if you do anything less than take him literally. So, because I am going to say something quite possibly viewed as blasphemy, I won’t use it). In fact, I read somewhere that of the nearly 200 questions put to him, he directly answered only three! Furthermore, when teaching a lesson, he invariably taught – as in he never varied from this pattern – through paradox, metaphors and parables; stories that were intentionally puzzling to the listener. Yet against this backdrop, nearly every person I know views the “Lord’s Prayer” as a discrete formula to be taken literally at face value, or at least to be memorized precisely.

Why? Why would his pattern be different for this one lesson? Remember, this is the same man who actually ridiculed formal prayer as either empty or something tantamount to show-boating. Always the consummate Rabbi, what if Joshua was staying true to form? If we suspend our literalist thinking for a moment and examine this instruction – his answer to the request, “Master, teach us to pray,” – through the lens of the other 99% of his teaching style, we just might see something else. Let’s start from the top.

“Our Father in heaven.” As he continually taught, the kingdom of god is now, here, and most importantly within you and me. Why then a reference to a heaven (elsewhere)? Might this instead be a reference to the kingdom among us and within us and not to a divided world of heaven and earth or heaven and hell? Jeshua was fervently interested in having his followers see the kingdom in the here and now. Furthermore, I am told (though I have never read the original text) that his word used for father was the child-familiar equivalent of “daddy” again suggesting that such a “heaven,” if not inside us already, may be closer and more accessible than the priests wanted us to believe. Then, almost as a wake up call he adds, “Thy kingdom come.” Might this perhaps be a declarative or even stated as a done deal? But wait, there’s more.

“Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven,” follows in the same vein. This is spoken into a time, not too unlike our own time, when whatever might be “god’s will” is clearly NOT being done. The truth is that human willfulness was the rule of the day (and still is). Thus this phrase and its later partner, “forgive our sins as we forgive others,” seem most surely to be a Jeshuan trap. It is more like a double trap, actually. First of all, attaching our forgiveness to our own praxis of forgiving is quite simply ludicrous. Our egos have very little ability or capacity for true forgiveness – they are too concerned with being right and better-than. But secondly, and more importantly, following a literal path we are trapped into hoping that god’s forgiveness could or should be earned by anything we do. The teacher never said either of those – in fact he always said exactly the opposite, in nearly every story, parable or teaching. You are already forgiven; you can't do anything to improve your chances; the kingdom is with(in) you.

So what could possibly be going on with this “how to” manual for prayer? There are two killer requests that need to be addressed before we answer that. “Give us our daily bread” and “Don’t put us to the test.” One of the greatest failed test stories in the bible is the manna in the desert. Our daily bread most likely refers to the daily allotment while in the desert during their flight from Egypt. The tribes were instructed to trust god and to take only enough for one day. Any more than “enough” would rot and turn poisonous, which of course, owing to our human scarcity model, was exactly what happened. Test failed!

Dare we even pray not to be put to the test – the test of our trust in god? C’mon, our very lives are an antithesis of that 24/7! How often do we free fall into our trust in the divine? I don’t know about you but I regularly trust and rely on me (and my effort, intelligence and perseverance) more than I remember to trust and rely on god.

But knowing this, our great teacher must have been lining up a litany of human errors to show us how praying should not be concerned with our human worries. What’s more, our prayer should not – cannot – be about our trying to get it right! We have not gotten it right, ever. It is almost – from this perspective – a mockery of our neediness for rules and boundaries of right and wrong (“Master, teach us the right way to pray – the only way to pray, the way that if we do it correctly, we will be assured of being better than everyone else.”) So he just stacked up a short list of our most stupid and non-spirit-filled errors, for fun! “Look guys, don’t even go there, no one can teach you how to pray, not even my cousin John. Prayer is about getting to human nothingness in order to let in the divine. Empty yourselves and you will be closer to real praying.”

Unfortunately, it is extremely difficult to teach the simplest things. It is the conundrum faced by all the great spiritual teachers (who, by the way, all used koan, metaphor and parables to confuse and get their students out of their heads). The instruction which I can most likely envision from Jeshua – to sit down, shut up and listen –would not have made good press for whomever was writing the story. So we got this… this, “Lord’s Prayer” concoction. I am beginning to seriously doubt that it was OUR lord’s prayer – ever – it is so out of context with the rest of his teaching. Unless, of course, he was following his standard formula of confusing the logic out of us. You will have to decide that one for yourself. Meanwhile, you’ll have to excuse me – I think I need to go empty my cup once more – it is too full to receive anything else!

Systematic Theology

Wow - It has been a while since I posted here, though admittedly most of these are more like my talking out loud than postings with the intent of generating tons of responses!

This semester I am in a class called Systematic Theology - subtitled perhaps "how does all of this stuff hang out together in your head or heart?" I have to admit it is kicking my butt mostly because it is forcing me to put in writing that which I have gotten away with not having cleanly defined for most of my adult life. Topics like: What is the nature of humanity? If you believe in a god, what is it that you actually believe? And the big one for me is if I call myself a Christian (on the days that I do call myself that) then what is it that defines my Christianity?

It requires first and foremost a starting point: would that be god or humanity? Since I cannot ever comprehend fully god as the fullness and source of all is-ness everywhere, I have to start with humanity. It led me on a path of recognizing that we only can know anything in our own language and limited through our own experience. So certainly whatever I may claim to understand is most certainly NOT god. It is only my experience of god, and at that, it is still limited to the antecedent referent list of tools, experience, vocabulary and imagery that my history, ethnicity, gender, society, economics (etc, etc) has afforded me.

All I can come to then is that this (all of this world, this universe, this life) is but a mere reflection of god - not god nor even full evidence of godliness - just "reflections as in a mirror" as Paul wrote. And to be certain the point of view from which I see that reflection is not the one from which you (any of you) see your version. But theology courses want you to come down with a theory or a theology (literally some god words or god logic) that you could espouse.

Hey, I am working on it!

Undoing the Self (part II)

In recognizing that the self, which we have so long identified as who we are, is not the authentic self; and in stripping away layer after layer of evidence to that effect, we are left standing naked before god and the universe. The question we face in our nakedness is, "If I am not that, then who am I?" Our introspection leads us to what might be called our potentialities. But even these have taken on a different quality. No longer do we see our potentialities as what we can or might do or accomplish. Our true potential is to be used in whatever service each situation might require of us - to be an instrument of god's workings.

When I stop to think of that, I am forced to realize that I am not all powerful, I cannot "do" everything and this aging body certainly is not capable of what it once could do. That notwithstanding, the requirements of being an instrument of god's workings in the world seem far larger than any of that which my ego-driven self has been or ever will be able to perform. But that isn't the issue. It is god working through us, not our (willful) working of what we think god wants of us. There is a difference. I think that the 12-steppers slogan of "let go and let god" means that (though their arrival at that slogan and interpretation of its meaning may vary greatly).

This is no blind faith, It is a step out over the void like the Indiana Jones scene before he throws dirt on the invisible path. It is Moses in the desert saying "Okay, but I don't know why you would pick me!" It is the blind Saul going to the home of his enemy, Francis stripping off his clothes and stepping into the arms of his bishop. No slogans here! Just fear and trembling... and stepping forward, saying "Here I am, take me."

What's It All About, Alfie?

Reflections on Job and the Mystery of Suffering, by Richard Rohr

Though I barely remember the 60’s version of the Michael Cain film and did not bother with Jude Law’s newer/fresher Alfie, the “what’s-it-all-about” question has all the staying power of an old cigarette jingle, without any of the narcotic effects. It is an ancient and hauntingly human question that has no real answer. All of our “why’s” seeking some rational explanation to life, the universe and everything (short of Douglass Adam’s whimsical 42), inevitably fail to assuage the empty itch at the source of the questions. Why am I here? What is the purpose to my life? Why do bad things happen to seemingly good people?

Take, for example, Job – the ultimate Alfie questioner. Faced with what must have been years of insufferable pain and despair, Job keeps asking god, “Why?” “What is this all about?” “Did I do something to deserve this?” Job had lived a good and devout life and he felt that he had done nothing to deserve the pain, loss and despair that he now suffered. To make matters worse he is taunted by three of his (self-professed) friends, Moe, Larry and Curley, who try to convince him of his guilt and harangue him with mainline religious platitudes. No one from the mainstream will ever understand the journey of the dark night. It refuses to fit into logic and comfort.

But Job has to go on a trip of monumental spiritual proportions to get to the other side of his suffering. Through the process, Job seems to map out the emotional course that Elizabeth Kubler-Ross described many thousands or years later – shock, anger, denial, bartering, and finally acceptance. And the cosmic lesson that Job (and all of us) must learn (though I pray not so harshly) is that there is no rationale to justify suffering as long as we are looking for it from a personal/human, ego-justification level. If we read Job thoroughly, we find that he pleads his case before god like a lawyer in court trying to make sense out of it from his (Job’s) ego-perspective. It is not until Job gives up trying to make it make sense and surrenders to god, that god actually concedes to talking to Job.

It seems that there are three deeply profound lessons that we must learn in the Job experience. First and foremost, as long as we are looking for understanding of events from our perspective – as if suffering, or joy (do we ever inspect that in the same way?) must have some deeper meaning – we are bound to come up empty handed. There is no meaning that exists outside of our own personal meaning making. Things and events have no intrinsic meaning. Nothing means anything until we make up a meaning. So Job’s attempt to find some cosmic meaning is fruitless because there is none to be found - and god knows this so he doesn’t even play the game. Furthermore, despite lacking meaning, Job wants to be justified – found innocent of any wrongdoing (the meaning he has ascribed to the source of suffering) – so that his ego can feel okay and virtuous. Again god refuses to even play the game of ego importance. God maintains a stonewall approach to these machinations of Job. But the third (really big) lesson is that not only is god in charge of the whole game, god and divine understanding is so beyond our human comprehension that to try and fix a human rationale to it or to apply some kind of right and wrong checks and balances to it is not only impossible it is downright illogical.

With a final sigh, Job gives up his attempts and instantly, god steps in and speaks – not in answer but in beautiful, powerful metaphor. Even then, when god speaks, he does not even address the questions of rationalization. In a sense, god says, “I am in charge and always have been. Just trust that and try not to figure it out!” It is the ultimate spiritual message – the message of the experience of Job, the teaching of the Nazarene, and of the Buddha and of every great spiritual sage throughout time. Live in the question, surrender to god’s way, and live in relation to god, to others and to the world around you. Let go of your ego’s need for self-important meanings. It is a humbling and simultaneously filling message. Alfie would have been gravely disappointed. Dionne Warwick sang in the theme song, “What’s it all about, Alfie? Is it only for the moment we live?”

Well, yup, that’s about it!

Eschatological or Scatological

Oh - I know I am going to hell for this one!

I heard in a lecture the other night (see Rock Concert, November 20) that the only way one could serve in a priest or prophet role - that is, to coach leaders in spiritual discernment, is to start with a clear eschatological frame of reference. In other words - to what end am I or are you coaching your client? Max makes his case that for example globalization is a god-inspired process moving toward the New Jerusalem. This is the coming kingdom where all live in harmony and the trees grow again and produce clean ripe fruit, and the lion and lamb play Scrabble without thoughts of blood or lusty feasts, and yada yada yada. But that anyway we must have that vision in order to know where we are taking our client.

Oh Scat!

Literally and figuratively! With all apologies to Dear John’s vision, I do not buy it. But not because it is silly or pure fantasy or, as some suggest, drug induced. I don't buy that we - any of us - can know what god has in mind nor do we have the capacity to understand it were we to have access to it. It is our ego-driven need to pretend that we can discern the "will of god" or the end of time and it has been a quest of human's kind since the beginning of thought - "Where is this all going to?" But that takes us down the wrong path. We have to make up a lot of scat to even get in the ballpark. And in my book that is wasted time.

Rather we need to let go of that ego-bound self importance and let god become manifest in and through us without our help or interference. What if we are to let god flow through us in to the spaces between us and the others? What would happen if we entered the discussion not presupposing but letting god manifest a future before us that none of us could ever imagine? Now that sounds like the way god works!

Look it is all well and good to have myths about creation and the end of time but Jesus and every prophet of every major religion has always entreated us to live now – the Kingdom is here now… if only we let it happen in god’s way and on god’s terms. Everything else is scatological.

Do You Suffer Enough

The Buddha says that it is suffering that moves us to change toward enlightenment and I must agree. I have written about pain before (Purposeful Pain, 7/14/08) but that is purely on an individual level and of the nature that prevents me from further hurting myself. What I am thinking of now is actual suffering and grief.


On a personal level the suffering in the dark night of the soul is the place where we discover real faith and hope. In truth, it cannot exist anywhere else. Seriously, what kind of faith is it if you have all the evidence in the world that god has provided for you. That is evidence. Faith is only evident when there is doubt, or as Carolyn Myss is fond of saying, "In order to have faith you need to have an experience that demands you find it." So a real purpose of our pain suffering and doubt is that it forces us to develop deep faith and the endurance of a distance runner.


But in the transformational journey, the waves of darkness keep coming. (Oh you thought it was over and that the lesson was learned - wrong!) Each time we dip into the dark night, another layer of ego is stripped away, and another door or window to the world is opened. We gradually evolve from self centered living to allocentric living - other centered. The Buddha calls these outer layers of consciousness a movement toward oneness. As the illusion of separateness is eroded by spiritual suffering (sometimes it is more like being ripped away), our consciousness opens to the global experience of what it means to be human. 'I' becomes 'we' and the limited awareness of one's "sheltered" thin slice of humanity widens to include many others. This is good and right, right?

Wrong! Not good! Because with this awareness comes the suffering of 3-4 billion of the world's population. Not spiritual suffering alone: not just hunger - but starvation; not just sickness - but plague; not just pain - but torture. Human suffering is the awareness of the transformed soul. And what can we do with that level of awareness? The answer is not in turning away, or in numbing our brains with drugs and alcohol. No, the answer is, feel it, let it course through your body and rip out the last vestiges of an ego that thinks it has the power to solve the problem, and then sit with the grief! (O, fun, sign me up for that ride!)

The price of admission to the transformation ride is awareness - disturbing, painful, awareness. The kind that wakes you up at 3AM in the question of, "What am I going to do today that works toward the side of justice and mercy?" And so I sit here with the question (I have gotten used to living in the question) wondering at what point will the suffering be so unbearable that I chuck the roles I currently have and take greater action; global action. At what point will I no longer be able to silence the voice that wants to scream out at the profitability machine, "Enough!" When will I have suffered enough for that? Do you suffer enough?

Reverse Logic

Lately I have been studying the process of transformation as a metaphor for some of the deeper spiritual work we sometimes face and it seems to me that we have this all backwards. Most of us (I include me in that) think of the work of transformation as learning how to delete the nasty and less desirable aspects of ourselves - our defects of character - so that we might live purer, more saintly lives. On closer inspection of the scriptures, I find that it is just the opposite.

Think of it this way. Those desirable parts of our personalities, the ones we think are good, actually get in the way of letting in the divine goodness - or perhaps more accurately, letting it out. Furthermore those same characteristics might serve to make us think better of ourselves than we should - hey I am proud of my charitable works, it is what I am supposed to do. But look at our scriptural heritage: From Judaic tradition prior to Passover the family was to select the purest lamb from the flock and bring it in to the house. There it lived as one of the family for four days, while the kids played with it, fell in love with it, named it and cuddled it at night. Then after the fourth day, it was slaughtered! Not some nasty old goat - the cute, pure innocent lamb. Likewise from Christian tradition, Jesus (not the criminal Barabbas) was executed - the good guy, not the bad guy. God always seems to pick the flawed ones to do that Divine work. How that got turned around into working to cannonize saints, I don't know!

Transformation is reverse logic - we need to let in our faults and defects, embrace them in order not only to heal them but to realize how similar we are to others of our kind. Letting them in and accepting my faults releases a flood of compassion for others that I could otherwise never access. And when that is accompanied by killing off the parts of me of which I am most enamoured - my best stuff - I find I am no longer competing with God or trying to play the godly role. I can finally step aside and let the true goodness flow through me.

Once again I come to the conclusion that human logic is not Divine logic - But I hope I am beginning to catch on.

Back in the Saddle

Well I have been out of pocket for some time tryinng to figure out what to say and do in this space. Many of my old postings had been written as an expression of creative writing - and often a tad lengthy. I do not know what works in the blogosphere but am here to find out.

Like everything I experience, life is not in the knowing but in living into the not knowing. Faith, says Carolyn Myss, is a by-rpoduct of living: "in order to have faith, you have to have a challenge that requires you find it." I think that is so true for everything.

I have a friend who is about to give up on his relationship with a magnificent woman, because, as he puts it, he is not ready, and he does not know who he really is. I told him today that, unfortunately, you only find out the end of the story on the last page and then it is too late to have a relationship, because the last sentence on that page is "you die." Life is the process of figuring things out one event at a time and relationship is what happens when two people try to do that while living into the answers together.

I love the messy unpredictable part of life - Rumi would call it succulent and juicy! He's right.