JOURNEY AND PATH

Contemporary philosopher A.C. Grayling is fond of including somewhat startling but self-evident facts in his writing.  He will tell you, for instance, that the average human life span is somewhere around a thousand months long; that's a span of time you can actually count out on your hands...one hundred times and that's it.  His follow-on statement is that such a short time is not to be wasted by living one's life without purpose.  What purpose you might ask?  Grayling warns that life is not a bank balance, a sheaf of investments, a pile of bricks and mortar.  "No", he says, "every day I live, I am more convinced that the waste of life lies in the love we have not given, the powers we have not used, the selfish prudence that will risk nothing and which, shirking pain, misses happiness as well."  Smart man, that A.C. Grayling.

One of the by-products of the last 120 months of my life has been the understanding and acceptance that I've been on a journey that suddenly took a different path.  I'm not certain what path I was on before that change in direction, I just know it was not the same path I'm on now.  I can point out some of new aspects of my life that have come about since my path altered, but none of them explain the change.  I think they are mostly symptoms of being on a different path, but still on a journey. 

And, since I'm on the topic of the journey, I might as well tell you that that is how I see life - as a journey.  It's a journey with a beginning and an end and that's about all that I'm allowed to know for certain.  How long the journey will last, who will accompany me, will it be hard or easy - those are all things that I cannot know.  I can hope for them, pray for them, work towards them - but I am never allowed to know for certain.  There was a time in my life when that "not knowing" would have plagued me to no end; now, I find a certain peace in the realization that it's not my job to know what life will bring, just to live it fully.

I think the path I was walking changed direction when I came to church, back in late 2003 or early 2004.  Have you ever heard the claim, "you don't have to go to church to be a good person?"  That was my claim; I said it to myself and to others whenever I was pressed about faith and church and what I believed in.  It took my Mom's fatal illness to get me to church, albeit as chauffeur and dutiful son, rather than someone seeking religion.  When she died, I stayed...stayed on the path I had stepped on to.  When I look back on where it has taken me, in only 120 months, I am staggered by the distance travelled, the new spiritual landscape that surrounds me, the variety of travellers I have met on the way.  This new path is a lot more challenging than that previous path, I think mostly because there are more people using it for their journey.  Most of the people I meet on that path are very different than the ones I used to travel with.  A few of them have the same outward appearance as those I encountered on the other path, but I can tell, somehow, that on this particular path we are sharing, they are not the same.  Perhaps, that is because I'm not the same either?

It's interesting to take the time to look at a person I knew from the old path and who I now encounter on this new path.  Are we both the same?  Have we both changed or is it only me who sees things differently on this new life route?  A.C. Grayling, the philosopher that I started with, would probably tell me that because I've changed, everyone and everything else changes too.  I don't know whether to apologize to those other pilgrims on my path or just hope they appreciate the changes as much as I do.

Pat<><

HOW DO WE DEAL WITH ABUNDANCE? - ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED NOVEMBER 19, 2013

The first time I saw a zig-zag cedar fence like this was just a weeks ago, on Manitoulin Island.  Photographer Bob McGauley has captured this example somewhere in the Sault Ste. Marie area.  You've probably seen this familiar pattern of fence in your travels through rural Grey and Bruce Counties.  But look closer - do you see something difference in the fence?  That's right! 
 

This fence is made with cedar poles rather than cedar rails.  It would have been faster to build than a rail fence, but the number of trees needed would have been roughly four times what a rail fence needs.  What do you think influenced the farmer to build a pole fence rather than a split-rail fence?  My bet is an abundance of cedar trees - trees that had to be cleared for crops and pasture anyway - they might as well be used in the fence.

This picture reminded me of the struggle that I have with the concept of abundance; I suspect that many people have the same struggle.  My normal, unthinking perspective on abundance is...well, unthinking.  At any time of the day or night, I can convince myself that I must have something, and have it right now!  But, every now and again, something happens to remind me that I seldom lack for anything I actually need.  If that's not abundance, what is? 

Some will equate abundance with money - but, philosophers and daily experience tell us that money is not a good indicator of abundance; there are many people with lots of money who are miserably unhappy.  And, if our life was filled with abundance, how could we possibly be unhappy?  My sense of abundance is filled with things that I take for granted:  eyesight, hearing, mobility, health in general, friends, the beloved - imagine being without these - that would be a poor life.

But, getting back to this farmer - how did was he likely to view abundance?  The cedar trees were a mixed blessing: an obstacle to growing the crops he needed, but a ready source of fencing material to mark the boundaries of his land and to keep livestock in their place.  The abundance that I experience is a mixed blessing too.  Most of the time it overwhelms my ability to see beyond it...it buries me and isolates me from what is important.  But every so often, when my heart and mind are in a good place, the abundance of my life comes to its purpose, to be shared with others.  That's when it truly feels like I can't get enough.

 Pat <><

WHAT IS THAT PLACE THAT WE SEEK? ORIGINALLY POSTED OCTOBER 25, 2013

The photo that I have included today is one taken by a good friend of my brother Thom; his name is Bob McGauley and he is a devoted photographer, the sort that never goes anywhere without his equipment.  He and my brother have been collaborating in a form of ministry similar to our God Moments project.  Every day, he and Bob send out an email to subscribers, including one of Bob's photos and reflections from Thom.

 

This photo speaks volumes to me right now...it is a pointed reminder to me that actually causes me discomfort.  I look at that scene - a misty lake, a pair of muskoka chairs on a dock out over the water, no human being around...imagine the peace and quiet of that moment...and all I can say to myself is, "I am so NOT in that moment right now."

 

I am busy at this time...I am surrounded by busy-ness and business.  My calendar is full and my day planner has no vacant spaces.  I'm the one who made it that way and so there is some degree of intent involved.  But I feel that it's not the way it ought to be and I wonder to myself, how could you allow this to happen?  I know that part of me thrives on busy-ness, that I am fed by it and rewarded by it.  It's part of my conceit that there's not too many things I can't do, given enough time - and there are 24 hours in every day!  The one thing I can't do is cultivate the ability to get into the moment (or zone, or space...call it what you will) that I recognize in the photo.  I've been there before, on the Camino, but right now, it's hard to get there and impossible to stay there long enough to re-group and re-centre.

A good friend gave me a book in 2011; it's title is Psalms for Praying, by Nan C. Merrill.  The sub-title, which I have just noticed, is "An Invitation to Wholeness"; perhaps that's the place that I seek.  In the preface to the book, Nan Merrill writes, "to pray is to be transformed...just as light dispels darkness, fear cannot exist where love abides.  May the prayers of all who read, pray or sing the Psalms help awaken us to the Peace of the Beloved indwelling in every soul."  When I think about her wishes for me as a reader, I recognize that she's suggesting a way to get to the sort of moment that Bob McGauley captured in his photo.  It doesn't physically have to be in a deck chair on a dock out over a quiet lake - that might help, but it doesn't have to be that way.  The moment can be 100% internal, if we can be quiet enough, open enough, listen enough.  Nan Merrill wrote this:

But who can discern their own weaknesses?

Cleanse me, O Love, from all my hidden faults.

Keep me from boldly acting in error;

Let my fears and illusions not have dominion over me!

Then I shall become a beneficial presence,

freely and fully surrendered to your Love.

Pat <><

WHAT BONDS DO YOU LIVE WITH? - ORIGINALLY POSTED OCTOBER 14, 2013

When I saw this dead cedar tree at Euphrasia Falls, I marvelled at how the tree had struggled to overcome of the binding of the page wire fence wrapped around it.  It you look closely, you can see how the living body of the wood has tried to grow through the rectangles of metal fence, bulging out where it could, but ultimately restrained by the steel wire. 

Where the ground is rocky and stony, farmers often used live trees as fence posts.  The tree roots served to anchor the fence line more securely than any post or stake driven into a crack in the bedrock.  It made for a good, strong barrier to keep livestock in or, in this case, people out.  We don't know whether the fence wire was responsible for the death of the tree, but it's likely; the effect of the wire is to "girdle" the cedar tree and prevent water and nutrients from moving up from the roots.  The tree eventually died of thirst, even though there is a river running nearby, in the background of the photo.

If you look elsewhere in the background of the photo, you will see new shoots of green; vegetation and saplings that have a chance to survive.

Do you have experience of being "bound" or "restrained" by aspects of your life?  It might be another person, or something to do with work, or an illness; or maybe, something in your past that just keeps hanging on, holding you back, limiting your ability to live life to the fullest.  Most of us have something like that going on, and sometimes, it gets to be a burden heavy enough to have consequences that are as serious as this wire fence was for the cedar tree.

The prophet Isaiah, writing about the deliverance of the Lord's people, proclaimed, "the Spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord as anointed me to bring good news to the poor; He has sent me to bind up the broken-hearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to those who are bound." [61.1]  The imagery of this scripture is full of words connected with Joy's photo: bind, bound, opening, liberty.

I don't know how you deal with the things that limit your life; in my case, I've come to accept some of them...kind of.  I struggle daily with those limitations and sometimes I succeed at overcoming them.  Other times, I'm lucky just to hold my ground.

I've come to understand that being human and living a full life means that while I experience much that is joyful, I've also got to deal with the constraints and limitations I encounter every day.  If I can, that means stepping around them or breaking through them.  That's easiest when I've got trusted friends close at hand to help with the tough spots.  I've also come to realize that when the opportunity for "boundless" living presents itself, I've got to grab it and run with it like the precious gift it is.  It seems to me that the more I celebrate the gifts I receive, the easier it is to deal with the down side of life.  Maybe that's what is meant when we pray for God to give us strength.

Pat  <><

HOPEFUL STAR OF ADVENT - PUBLISHED DECEMBER 16, 2013

It has taken me quite a few years to "get" Advent.  I'm not talking about the meaning that we are told, but the meaning for me, in my heart and soul.  Biblical studies and resources speak about the expectant waiting for, the anticipation of the birth of Jesus and the coming of Christ.  Somewhere in what I feel and experience, that preparatory sense exists, but it's secondary to a whole bunch of other emotions that are intensified at this time of year.

This photo by Bob McGauley of Sault Ste. Marie is the striking image that got me thinking about what Advent means to me.  The beautiful star that he captures, the product of natural light and ice, is symbolic of the hope that wells up in me at this time of the year.  It's irrational for me to feel more hopeful at Christmas than at any other time of the year, but that's the truth of it.  It's a complicated type of hopefulness that I feel though - a lot of ingredients get dumped into that pot of hopefulness and mixed together.  I feel happy to have most of the year behind me; good and bad, it's done with and the need to move on is ever present.  I feel eager for the year to come, the challenges that will need to be faced, the joyful and not-so-joyful times to be shared.  I'm eager to repeat some of what worked well and just as eager to try something different.  I feel a sense of promise and renewal that may be nothing more than getting ready to start on a new calendar - but I think it runs deeper than that.  I find that I relish the thought of a new start most, when I've had a chance to reflect on where I've been or what I've been through.  For me, that's when the next stage of the journey becomes so compelling, drawing us on toward the next experiences life will offer us.

The other aspect of Bob's image that has meaning for me at Advent are the lines in the ice that look like layers.  They make me remember the layers that make up my life, the people I love, the people who are present in my mind and no longer a physical presence.  Those lines and layers make me remember the joyful experiences of the last year and the times, frankly, when I did not want company and would have been a burden to others.  Those layers make me remember that my life is not one uniform, constant experience.  My life is more like a layer cake or a jelly roll (trust me to use a food metaphor) that has a combination of sweet and bitter, soft and hard, smooth and crunchy.  You might want to be able to pick only the good parts, but life serves a full helping of everything, the good and the bad.

I love this time of year, in spite of the push to consume and the drive to count down the shopping days.  The more I can focus on that feeling of hopefulness, the better chance I have to love the experience too.  This re-phrased version of Psalm 126 expresses it better than I have:

When the Divine Lover enters the human heart,

all yearnings are fulfilled!
Then will our mouths ring forth with laughter,
and our tongues with shouts of joy;

Then will we sing our songs of praise,

to You, O Beloved of all hearts.
For gladness will radiate out for all to see;
so great is your Presence among us.

Restore us to wholeness, O Healer

like newborn babes who have never strayed from You!
May all who sow in tears of repentance,
bearing seeds of Love,
Come home to You with shouts of joy,
leaving sorrow behind.  
Psalms for Praying - An Invitation to Wholeness, by Nan. C. Merrill, 2009, Continuum Publishing.

 Blessings to all. Pat<><