Category: Main blog

On this day that has become a celebration of consumerism and unbridled greed, we choose to buy nothing and to spend the day with our family. In this post, I include some poetry and writings that will hopefully remind us of what is true, what is real.

I begin with this wonderful prose poem from my friend and the amazing and talented director of our Seattle Peace Chorus, Fred West as his Thanksgiving reflection: What is Peace?

And so what is peace?

What do we sing for that is precious and strong like the beat of a baby’s heart and yet fragile
And often at risk?

Is it the Peace and Quiet we need to study, to read, to learn, to sing
Uninterrupted by a noisy world?

Is Peace simply the type of life where one is free to follow the deep calling of our life’s work
And not be obliged to work an exhausting job with little meaning or reward?
Is it a stillness of the spirit which seems to be tranquility itself, and if so
Would any artist feel the drive to chisel stone, any violinist the need to practice 6 hours a day, any inventor the urgency to develop something so basic and wonderful as a washing machine?
Would the genius of human invention be kindled if
Peace and tranquility reigned or is Peace a strand in the web of life only apparent in contrast to chaos and oppression.
Is it by definition a condition that will be
Imperiled by greed and oppression as the tendency of one human to rule over another will always create strife.

In the stories that come to us today about Mostar in Bosnia, the divisions of all basic services flow into certain zones that all people know are either Catholic of Muslim. The fire department from one area may not serve the opposition zone defined by the Yugoslav wars and before. Although there is not now war, we see the legacy of war and the many generations of division that war creates.
War is the ogre of life, it is the ogre that even monsters fear as there is no
Actual mind at work that can put the pieces back together, but rather mindless consuming paths of destruction.

We have just seen terrible destruction in the element of fire. Fire does not have a will to create misery but it obeys it’s own nature. the fire can warm us and it can humble the rich and powerful.
As Paradise California burned, one thing we know is that no firefighter would refuse to respond because of a religious affiliation of the residents.
We Take this for granted and yet it is not always so.
Is Peace then found in a certain unity where all people will pledge to help each other in times of upheaval and danger? should we then say to each other

“I will help you if your home burns down”

Does Peace include the vast world of animals who enchant our Planet and who are our teachers, our elders, and our inspiration? The Orca who fill us with awe and gratitude
Has now shown her dead calf to the world knowing that we, not she, is responsible for the PCB toxins in the water that find their way into her breast milk.

Do we extend our peace to the world of fish, birds and all creatures who walk the land?

Can the elephant, who shows us what size and might and lines of kinship,
and subsonic hearing,
And prodigious memory can be,
apart from humanity:
can this elephant find the same peace that we sing for?
In this world, an elephant is killed every 4 minutes for its ivory tusks.

We do not need statues of ivory. The keys on our piano play just as well with plastic Compounds and yet someone craves these things and the elephant is too far away to be of concern.

Does the tiger, who may be the most beautiful creature, full of grace and power, to ever walk the Earth, deserve the Peace that we desire, even as it must hunt for its next meal and will never be found sowing seeds for the next crop.
does the glorious bird who inspires us
To fly and to soar aloft deserve a sky with no pollution? can we make sure that there is a tree to nest in 
when we have a chainsaw in one hand and a bag of apple seeds in the other which do we reach for.

Is Peace a dream and the real world a rude awakening?
if so, it is like a dream of traveling to Mars and will take all the dedication of science and artists to inspire the quest. Where this dream may become real is where
We hold our children up to the warmth of the Spring sunlight and their minds and talents grow beyond what is now known.

Is the dream of peace so threatening to those who base their lives on arming for
War and guarding their families with weapons,from true and undeniable threat.

Aah, Peace cannot be a fantasy or a refuge of the lazy or those who are always afraid
Of the unknown.
The peaceful warrior does not offer to become a slave of the conqueror.
Peace can be carved only with arms of strength,
with hands that have swung a sword in graceful dances, that know the routes to high ground when the tsunami comes.
but the strongest arms which assure safety can also be a pillow for your rest
And chop the wood to kindle the hearth and gather the harvest for your Thanksgiving feast.
the strongest arms offer solace to those who are saddened and alone.

And what is that Peace but in fact not quiet, not tranquility, not a life without disturbances, not a life without problems or challenges,
But a world where violent death does not occur. assault and murder do not enter into the mind of anyone, and the most extreme form of violence, the
Feared dogs of war, do not roam the land for we know that when once unleashed, these creatures do not obey any master.
Only in exhaustion do they return to the cage.
these do not exist in our world of peace because all people and animals belong, and all are fed, all are loved and all are seen and lifted up.
Our peace is when every conflict is answered by negotiation and dialogue.
Plato tells us that all ideas must be tested in dialogue. let us hear what is in everyone,s hearts even as we struggle to understand a different view.
our peace is when conflict is prevented by bonds of friendship and mutually beneficial trade which have always been the glue of the most peaceful agreements.
Call for gifts and prepare a feast to stay the trigger.
Do not pull the pin of the grenade but pull the cork of the bottle for your guest.

do not fire the rocket of robotic and blind destruction but send up the rocket bearing the color and delight of firework displays.
.Carve your wood for the gun barrel to hunt your food and for the harp and the fiddle, not for the gun barrel alone.
Guard against those that urge isolation for it is in our cultural diversity that we find
The answers pondered by our wisest and most distant ancestors.
Do not follow those that pull away from the agreements that keep the Peace and protect the environment. We do not have our own bubble which protects this latitude and longitude,
As pollution and destruction will cross borders.

the child is sacred.
Our peace is revered because all good things flow from the child who is nourished and loved. The Mother and Father, friends, Grandparents, siblings, and all those pledged to raise the child, guard and protect, nourish and defend their child and the children around them. What is good for your child is also good for the child in Yemen.
As we feed our children, we are called to open our hearts to any child without food or clothing, medicine or education.

If one wonders
How do I serve in the cause of peace, there is much work to do.

What then is the language of Peace?

Nature
And all the divine spirits and energies of Creation have given us
Songs to sing. Songs to gladden the heart, songs to celebrate freedom, songs to mourn and songs to honor the dead. songs for birth and songs for love, songs to
Inspire the struggle for justice and equality, lullabies to sing with one voice which give solace to the child, and Cantatas to sing for the choirs of each land to gladden the soul and cause us to open our hearts to each other.

No one small group of people can protect that precious child from a missile, or
From radioactivity, from toxins in the water or pesticides on the food.

It is only a mighty voice that can create this demand, that can create the clamor that is now needed to create Peace, and it is only in
Raising our freedoms that we have the power needed.
Never before has
So much of life as we know it been
In the balance.

A mighty voice can
Find wisdom in the common ground that we all walk on.

That common ground is not a barren strip between barbed wire,
It is a garden, it is a place of life and color, flower and fruit, honey bee and Monarch butterfly.
The mighty voice will sing in many languages
And always welcome the new people to our shores. the welcome song is our special
Talent.
it is this that
We
Are
Thankful
For

And then my reply to Fred of my thoughts on Peace:

What is Peace to Me?

I think of peace as that still small voice that lives in each of our hearts,
That guides and moves our passion, laughter, creativity, and tears,
That reminds us we are not separate.

And that – when we are blessed – breaks into song:
The whisper of leaves in the autumn breezes,
The whoosh of Raven’s wing,
The rattle of stones in the rolling waves of the Salish seashore,
The delighted laughter of a tumbling brook,
The excited whoop of a playing child,
The passionate sigh of a deeply loved friend,
The perfect resolving chord at the end of a choral masterpiece.

We are truly blessed

And finally, this beautiful poem:

This Is How I Voted Today

by Fred LaMotte with thanks to Monica Winsor

This is how I voted today.

I went to the woods and dug a hole

under fern in leaf rot and luminous fungi

into which I pressed my mouth and screamed

a long hot uncreated vowel containing

the first and last letters of every alphabet.

I signed my vote with my tears,

it was ratified by planetary silence

groans of Adam’s first wife from far below

heaved out of the groundlessness

where she is gowned in seamless glistening mycellia.

Only then did I realize what I’d voted for

the abolition of Republicans and Democrats,

the downfall of spires and hierarchies,

the dissolution of superpacs and

$50,000 a plate dinner parties

in Hollywood and the Hamptons,

the deconstruction of the Constitution into a single

proto-Hebraic rune,

inscribed on a cavern wall somewhere under

the vast and indecipherable border

between Mexico and Arizona.

The overthrow of male and female hegemony,

the annihilation of both capitalism and socialism,

the eradication of black and white by a rainbow of tears,

the renaissance of family farms and local small-business collectives

spawning an exquisite tapestry of bio-regional economies where

no mention is ever made of “government.”

Where politics evaporates into folk music story-telling

fermented cabbage useful tools

and the gentle heroics of mere listening.

I voted for the mule that Jesus rode into the city

proclaiming forgiveness of all debts

which is the same mule Laotzu rode out

beyond the wall of China.

Which is also the mule that Rumi sat backwards on

stumbling Westward into exile

gazing Eastward toward eternal loss–

that mule I tell you will be president!

I voted to compost and manure the floor of the Senate

entangling every politician in a web of hemp moss

mushrooms and deer pellets.

I voted to turn the dome of Congress all abuzz

into a giant hummingbird feeder.

I voted for the reclamation of all human skin

with musky forests of golden fur.

My vote was the sound of Yes in every tongue

the co-whispering of all leaves

the council of trees

the un-clink of gold and emeralds returning to veins in stone the echo of a primal Sigh

that meant to sing the color green

but accidentally created the stars.

Hello friends,

Wendy and I are going to be joining some of our Seattle Peace Chorus singers on a trip to the Southwest in January of next year.

We would love your help to support our “Music Crosses Borders” tour! Our all-volunteer choir has about 30 people signed up to bring our unique brand of musical citizen diplomacy to US-Mexico border areas, to inspire refugees & immigrants and the people who are working tirelessly to help them in this difficult political climate, and to learn about the many challenges they face. But many of our singers are hard-pressed to afford this travel and could use your kind assistance to help defray some of the cost.

We’d also like to financially assist the nonprofit refugee shelters we’ll be visiting in the Mexican cities of Juarez and Tijuana. These shelters are already struggling to assist hundreds of refugees and other migrants, including folks, recently deported from the US; and the caravans of thousands of Central American asylum seekers heading for the border now will add immensely to their caseload.

So we’ve established a GoFundMe page to raise funds for this tour. 50% of the funds raised will be used to help Peace Choristers afford the trip, and the other 50% will be donated to nonprofit refugee assistance centers in Ciudad Juarez and Tijuana.

Please consider a tax-deductible donation to this worthy endeavor: (Doug Balcom is the organizer and our tireless tour coordinator). https://www.gofundme.com/spc-music-crosses-borders-tour

P.S. Funds you donate to our GoFundMe page will be routed through “PayPal Giving Fund”, a nonprofit agency that processes GoFundMe donations bound for charities. So you’ll get a receipt for your tax-deductible donation to PayPal Giving Fund; but rest assured, your donation will be forwarded to SPC. Although GoFundMe may charge a small processing fee depending on whether you donate from a credit or debit card, PayPal Giving Fund then forwards the proceeds without deducting any additional service fees.

Trigger warning – there are some horrific and disturbing scenes in this moving music video. But it is worth watching (and there is redemption to beauty at the end), and remembering that this was made over 20 years ago and the things Michael is singing about with such passion have only gotten worse. 
Don’t go back to sleep.

Lyrics: 

What about sunrise
What about rain
What about all the things that you said
We were to gain
What about killing fields
Is there a time
What about all the things
That you said were yours and mine Did you ever stop to notice
All the blood we’ve shed before
Did you ever stop to notice
This crying Earth, these weeping shores 

Aah, ooh

What have we done to the world
Look what we’ve done
What about all the peace
That you pledge your only son What about flowering fields
Is there a time
What about all the dreams
That you said was yours and mine Did you ever stop to notice
All the children dead from war
Did you ever stop to notice
This crying earth, these weeping shores 

Aah, ooh
Aah, ooh 

I used to dream
I used to glance beyond the stars
Now I don’t know where we are
Although I know we’ve drifted far 

Aah, ooh
Aah, ooh

Aah, ooh
Aah, ooh 

Hey, what about yesterday
(What about us)
What about the seas
(What about us)
The heavens are falling down
(What about us)
I can’t even breathe
(What about us)
What about apathy
(What about us)
Drowning in the seas
(What about us)
What about the promised land
Preachin’ what I believe
(What about us)
What about the holy land
(What about it)
What about the greed
(What about us)
Where did we go wrong
Someone tell me why
(What about us)
What about baby boy
(What about him)
What about the days
(What about us)
What about all their joy
Do we give a damn 

Aah, ooh
Aah, ooh 

Songwriter: Michael Jackson

Earth Song lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc

I have come into this world to see this:
the sword drop from men's hands even at the height
of their arc of anger

because we have finally realized there is just one 
flesh to wound
and it is His - the Christ's, our
Beloved's.

I have come into this world to see this: all 
creatures hold hands as
we pass through this miraculous existence we 
share on the way
to even a greater being of soul,

a being of just ecstatic light, forever entwined 
and at play
with Him.

I have come into this world to hear this:

every song the earth has sung since it was 
conceived in
the Divine's womb and began spinning from
His wish,

every song by wing and fin and hoof,
every song by hill and field and tree and 
woman and child,
every song of stream and rock,

every song of tool and lyre and flute,
every song of gold and emerald
and fire,

every song the heart should cry with 
magnificent dignity
to know itself as
God:

for all other knowledge will leave us 
again in want and aching -
only imbibing the glorious Sun
will complete us.

I have come into this world to 
experience this:

men so true to love
they would rather die before speaking
an unkind
word,

men so true their lives are His covenant -
the promise of
hope.

I have come into this world to see this:
the sword drop from men's hands
even at the height of
their arc of
rage

because we have finally realized
there is just one flesh

we can wound.

~ Hafiz ~

(Love Poems From God: Twelve Sacred Voices 
from the East and West by Daniel Ladinsky)

Dear friends, I am forwarding this invitation from my friend Mirabai Starr to what looks to be a wonderful free webinar with one of my favorite contemporary spiritual teachers, Andrew Harvey. Please consider registering. I plan to participate.

From Mirabai: Beloved friends and family,

What if the key to life’s greatest challenges was to approach them like a child… with curiosity, enthusiasm, inquisitiveness… and WONDER?

In the presence of awe, the mind lets go… and opens. 

Yet, many of us have grown up in a culture that’s threatened by a direct experience of awe. Scientific fundamentalism sees a world stripped of enchantment and meaning. Religious systems require obedience to doctrine. Social and family systems are often rooted in fear. 

In truth, awe offers us a powerful expansion of identity… a release from limited ideas of ourselves and the world…   

Awe can heal and transform YOU, according to celebrated mystic teacher Andrew Harvey, when you approach it as a spiritual practice… (It’s also essential to the planet’s survival, Andrew says!)

On Wednesday, November 14, my dear friend Andrew Harvey will show you how to access the healing medicine of awe so that you can embrace openness, flexibility, and resiliency (especially in the face of adversity).

Awe brings us to our knees, and empties us of addictive thinking and the need to control. Surrendered and humbled, we can find our rightful place within the Great Mystery…

Register now for this free event, here: https://shiftnetwork.isrefer.com/go/paMS/Mirabaistarr/

During Opening to the Power of Awe: The Transfiguring Path of Wonder, Radical Humility & Ecstatic Celebration, you’ll:

• Understand why a direct experience of awe is essential for the evolution that’s required for humanity to survive and thrive
• Discover why awe holds the key to unfreezing concepts and fixed ideas that are a barrier to your connection with divine guidance
• Understand how to use the gifts of wonder to enter a portal into conscious co-creation with the Beloved
• Recommit to the power of playfulness, celebration, and dance as an essential spiritual practice
• Open to mystical insights from Rumi and Kabir that rekindle your connection with awe

Some of history’s greatest mystic poets, like Rumi and Kabir, have given us glimpses of the power of awe in their writings — and have pointed to wonder as the portal into a deeper relationship with the Divine.

And now, Andrew Harvey, whose teachings are rooted in Sufism, mystical Christianity, and numerous other lineages, will open this portal for YOU.

You can register here: https://shiftnetwork.isrefer.com/go/paMS/Mirabaistarr/

Mirabai

P.S. During Opening to the Power of Awe, Andrew will illuminate the healing power of awe as an essential practice that’s medicine for your spiritual path.

Register now for free here: https://shiftnetwork.isrefer.com/go/paMS/Mirabaistarr/

A downloadable recording will be provided later to all who register, whether or not you listen to the scheduled event.

Today though I am feeling a small sense of relief for the gains in progressive legislators, ultimately I must admit to a feeling of unknowing and frankly some doubt, fear, and despair – that it will be enough to turn the tide in time. There is so much more to do, and our time is up. This small victory seems like another blip on the blip of history that we inhabit.

For this offering, I present something to help us hold our hope and resilience while we must also hold the increasing probability of the self-inflicted extinction of our human species. 

A deep and often challenging mystic practice is to hold two opposites and find the divine dance of the mystery that arises. May you find that place, and thrive with new passion for the work that must be done.

The Wish to Be Generous

All that I serve will die, all my delights,
the flesh kindled from my flesh, garden and field,
the silent lilies standing in the woods,
the woods, the hill, the whole earth, all
will burn in man’s evil, or dwindle
in its own age. Let the world bring on me
the sleep of darkness without stars, so I may know
my little light taken from me into the seed
of the beginning and the end, so I may bow
to mystery, and take my stand on the earth
like a tree in a field, passing without haste
or regret toward what will be, my life
a patient willing descent into the grass.

~ Wendell Berry ~

(The Collected Poems, 1957-1982)

Hello my dear friends,

After some discussion with some of you, and some meditation on the best way forward, I’ve decided that the previous format of long monthly blogs may well have been overwhelming for some, and thus ignored or only briefly read.

That said, I will be attempting to create posts more often, and now that I have an email system installed, I will be able to post them directly to you. And, if you want to forward them to others, they can subscribe on this blog site as well.

As the Autumn colors light up our trees, and the darkness settles over us like a warm, gray comforter, I am reminded daily of our precious earth and its exquisite cycles of birth and death that we are so blessed to witness. Today, I saw a bald eagle watching over a calm Salish Sea and right next to it was a small chickadee puffed up against the cold winds, but seemingly unconcerned about its predator neighbor. 

I am reminded of this lovely poem by Mary Oliver which will be my sharing for today:

In the Storm

Some black ducks
were shrugged up
on the shore.
It was snowing

hard, from the east,
and the sea
was in disorder.
Then some sanderlings,

five inches long
with beaks like wire,
flew in,
snowflakes on their backs,

and settled
in a row
behind the ducks —
whose backs were also

covered with snow —
so close
they were all but touching,
they were all but under

the roof of the duck’s tails,
so the wind, pretty much,
blew over them.
They stayed that way, motionless,

for maybe an hour,
then the sanderlings,
each a handful of feathers,
shifted, and were blown away

out over the water
which was still raging.
But, somehow,
they came back

and again the ducks,
like a feathered hedge,
let them
crouch there, and live.

If someone you didn’t know
told you this,
as I am telling you this,
would you believe it?

Belief isn’t always easy.
But this much I have learned —
if not enough else —
to live with my eyes open.

I know what everyone wants
is a miracle.
This wasn’t a miracle.
Unless, of course, kindness —

as now and again
some rare person has suggested —
is a miracle.
As surely it is.

~ Mary Oliver ~

(Thirst)

Welcome my dear friends to this month’s Mysticism and Spirituality Circle Blog where we step into the technological present and begin using this blogging tool.

I hope you find it enlightening and useful, and that you take advantage of the ability to reply with your comments and additions so this becomes a truly collaborative community.

This month, after some difficult times, I am concentrating on the many ways different communities, poets, and writers have given us to process and move through our pain, and to revel in joy. It is hugely important to find ways to hold our pain and the suffering of the planet, yet at the same time, part of processing and self-care is knowing when and how to release that sorrow and despair and find rest and replenishment in the living world. 

Those of us living in the urban world may have to pay closer attention, or wander a little further to find that connection with the wild. But it is very much there – whether in that dandelion pushing up through the concrete, or in the shadow of the coyote escaping into the ditch. I recently found my way to a small, neighborhood park where 600 year old fir trees still tower in stately connection to the earth and sky. And I am blessed by a nearby marshland that I visit regularly. 

I begin with a poem from my most recent walk through that marsh.

Edmonds Marsh on a Chill Foggy Morning

This may be
what death looks like.

Up close, the fires
of fall colors
Terrifying, beautiful,
alluring.
Further back, a black and white
still life.
An old photo smudged
at the edges,
From being held
by too many curious fingers.
Further still, dissolved
into gray
Sparkling, roiling,
mysterious.

And from out of that
gray mystery mist
The shade,
then the dark form
Then the regal,
stately presence
Of the heron.
Bringing a message:

“It is the same.”

~ Wakil David Matthews ~ 10/2018

We must remember beauty wherever and whenever we can. Often our best guides to this are those indigenous cultures from whom we can learn so much if we only pay attention. In this practice from Fr. Richard Rohr’s blog we learn of several such experiences.

Practice: Communal Contemplation

Black or Africana church brings communal and embodied contemplative practice to Western Christianity. Barbara Holmes stretches the narrow Eurocentric definition of contemplation beyond solitude and silence:

The African American church developed rituals and practices that nurtured and encouraged congregational encounters with the mysteries of God. Always, the focus was on piercing the veil between secular and spiritual realms through shared experiences. . .

In Africana traditions, the desert mothers and fathers offer one model of contemplative practice; the songs of Alabama chain gangs at the turn of the century, the rhythmic chants amid cotton rows in Mississippi during slavery, and the murmured hymns of domestic workers offer yet another. Those of us who grew up and worshipped in historically black church congregations wonder how a religious tradition that values bodily spirit possessions and performative vocal entreaties to a personal God can be considered contemplative.

The answer is hidden in plain view and is ensconced in historical presumptions about the boundaries and practices of contemplative worship. If the model for contemplation is Eurocentric, then the religious experiences of indigenous people and their progeny will never fit the mold. But if contemplation is an accessible and vibrant response to life and to a God who unleashes life toward its most diverse potentials [and if all are created in God’s image], then practices that turn the human spirit inward may or may not be solitary or silent. Instead, contemplation becomes an attentiveness of spirit that shifts the seeker from an ordinary reality to the basileia of God. . . .

I have not always been able to predict when these abiding times would arise. The places differ significantly and are only connected by my presence in the midst of faithful and expectant people. I have found myself in the midst of a transformative contemplative moment while worshiping with the Turkana in northern Kenya, watching the procession of clergy and locals and hearing the sounds of drums and hymns. Perhaps it was the heat or incongruity of regal African men in Scottish liturgical garb in the middle of the desert that created the sense of spiritual displacement; perhaps not.

I experienced similar moments on a hilltop in Sonora, Nogales, Mexico, as we sojourned with a family in their cardboard and corrugated tin home. Time seemed to stand still as we ate dinner together in the darkened room. Outside, another “temporary” refuge caught fire and burned. There was no way to save the dwelling, so we stood and silently prayed. Similar moments occurred while singing “Amazing Grace” in a Japanese Christian church in Onjuku and while giving birth to my sons surrounded by strangers and loved ones. The times and places are less important than the shared experiences of holy abiding.

To experience a taste of communal and vocal contemplative practice, listen to this moving song “Oh, Jesus.” Join your own voice—in moan and ecstatic cry—with this choir from Trinity United Church of Christ: [1]
http://email.cac.org/t/d-l-bulxa-kuhrlhdkl-h/

[1] “Oh, Jesus,” Sanctuary Choir, Trinity United Church of Christ, Chicago, Illinois.
Barbara A. Holmes, Joy Unspeakable: Contemplative Practices of the Black Church, second edition (Fortress Press: 2017), xxxiii, 18-19.

Psalm 121

I look deep into my heart,
to the core where wisdom arises.
Wisdom comes from the Unnamable
and unifies heaven and earth.
The Unnamable is always with you,
shining from the depths of your heart.
His peace will keep you untroubled
even in the greatest pain.
When you find him present within you,
you find truth at every moment.
He will guard you from all wrongdoing;
he will guide your feet on his path.
He will temper your youth with patience;
he will crown your old age with fulfillment.
And dying, you will leave your body
as effortlessly as a sigh.

(A Book of Psalms, trans. and adapted by Stephen Mitchell)

A SMALL PORCH IN THE WOODS

To care for what we know requires
care for what we don’t, the world’s lives
dark in the soil, dark in the dark.
Forbearance is the first care we give
to what we do not know. We live
by lives we don’t intend, lives
that exceed our thoughts and needs, outlast
our designs, staying by passing through,
surviving again and again the risky passages
from ice to warmth, dark to light.
Rightness of scale is our second care:
the willingness to think and work
within the limits of our competence
to do no permanent wrong to anything
of permanent worth to the earth’s life,
known or unknown, now or ever, never
destroying by knowledge, unknowingly,
what we do not know, so that the world
in its mystery, the known unknown world,
will live and thrive while we live.

~ Wendell Berry ~

(A Small Porch – Sabbath Poems 2014-2015)

Tiny Gods

Some gods say, the tiny ones
“I am not here in your vibrant, moist lips
That need to beach themselves upon
the golden shore of a
Naked body.”

Some gods say, “I am not
the sacred yearning in the unrequited soul;
I am not the blushing cheek
Of every star and Planet–

I am not the applauding Chef
Of those precious sections that can distill
The whole mind into a perfect wincing jewel, if only
For a moment
Nor do I reside in every pile of sweet warm dung
Born of earth’s
Gratuity.”

Some gods say, the ones we need to hang,
“your mouth is not designed to know His,
Love was not born to consume
the luminous
realms.”

Dear ones,
Beware of the tiny gods frightened men
Create
To bring an anesthetic relief
To their sad
Days.

~ Hafiz ~

(The Gift – versions of Hafiz by Daniel Ladinsky)

One of the most important ways to remember where we are and to reconnect and refresh is to breathe (as my dear Sufi teacher never fails to remind me!) . Near the end I’ll share one more breath practice that offers a way to process the pain of the world, our communities, and ourselves. But let’s begin with this from Fr. Rohr’s blog:

Practice: YHWH Prayer

You shall not take the name of God in vain. —Exodus 20:7

Many Christians think the second commandment is a prohibition against cussing. But I believe the real meaning of speaking the name of God “in vain” is to speak God’s name casually or trivially, with a false presumption of understanding the Mystery—as if we knew what we were talking about!

Many Jewish people concluded that the name of God should not be spoken at all. The Sacred Tetragrammaton, YHWH, was not even to be pronounced with the lips! In fact, vocalizing the four consonants does not involve closing the mouth. A rabbi taught me that God’s name was not pronounceable but only breathable: YH on the captured in-breath, and WH on the offered out-breath!

We come from a very ancient, human-based, natural, biological, universally experienced understanding of God. God’s eternal mystery cannot be captured or controlled, but only received and shared as freely as the breath itself—the thing we have done since the moment we were born and will one day cease to do in this body. God is as available and accessible as our breath itself. Jesus breathes the Spirit into us as the very air of life (see John 20:22)! Our job is simply to both receive and give this life-breath. We cannot only inhale, and we cannot only exhale. We must breathe in and out, accept and let go.

Take several minutes to pause and breathe mindfully, surrendering to the mystery of wordless air, the sustainer of life. Part your lips; relax jaw and tongue. Hear the air flow in and out of your body:

Inhale: yh

Exhale: wh

Let your breathing in and out, for the rest of your life, be your prayer to—and from—such a living and utterly shared God. You will not need to prove it to anybody else, nor can you. Just keep breathing with full consciousness and without resistance, and you will know what you need to know.

Adapted from Richard Rohr, Things Hidden: Scripture as Spirituality (Franciscan Media: 2008), 129-131. 

Can You Imagine?

For example, what the trees do
not only in lightening storms
or the watery dark of a summer’s night
or under the white nets of winter
but now, and now, and now – whenever
we’re not looking. Surely you can’t imagine
they don’t dance, from the root up, wishing
to travel a little, not cramped so much as wanting
a better view, or more sun, or just as avidly
more shade – surely you can’t imagine they just
stand there loving every
minute of it, the birds or the emptiness, the dark rings
of the years slowly and without a sound
thickening, and nothing different unless the wind,
and then only in its own mood, comes
to visit, surely you can’t imagine
patience, and happiness, like that.

~ Mary Oliver ~

(Long Life)

Imaginings Beneath an Elderly Wild Cherry Tree

(This was written a week before seeing the poem above by Mary Oliver – they go together nicely)

Imagine how many children you’ve held
in your strong, rough, mossy arms
The squeals of delight,
exuberance, and fear.

Imagine the thumping
into the soft ground
or the quick grasp of a
friend’s or parent’s hand.

Imagine the years
of quiet evenings,
the sun and rain washing
your leaves and branches.

Imagine the turning
of the seasons,
leaves blazing orange
and tumbling to the welcoming earth.

Imagine all the endings
and beginnings,
children grown and sad
standing amidst your thick arms.

Imagine them (me) remembering
and wishing for a return
to those days when they (I)
rode in your magic story.

I imagine.

~ Wakil David Matthews ~ 9/2018

We end this month’s sharing with the following wonderful meditative practice of Tonglen from Tibetan Buddhist teacher Pema Chodron.

Please respond with your thoughts, poetry, readings, or media in the comments section. Thank you for all you are and all you do.

Practice: Tonglen

A wonderful meditative practice from Tibetan Buddhist teacher Pema Chödrön.

Tonglen is . . . the most effective tool for developing courage and arousing our sense of oneness with others. . . .

There are various ways that tonglen is taught, but the essence of it is breathing in that which is unpleasant and unwanted and breathing out—sending out—that which is pleasing, relieving, enjoyable. In other words, we breathe in the things we usually try to avoid, such as our sadness and anger [and suffering], and we send out the things we usually cling to, such as our happiness and good health. We breathe in pain and send out pleasure. We breathe in disgrace and send out good reputation. We breathe in loss and send out gain. This is an exceedingly counterhabitual practice. It helps us overcome our fear of suffering and tap into the compassion that’s inherent in us all.

The word tonglen is Tibetan for “sending and receiving.” It refers to our willingness to take on the pain of others we know are hurting and extend to them whatever we feel will ease their pain, whatever will enable them to stay present with the sorrows and losses and disappointments of life.

Practicing tonglen awakens our natural empathy, our innate ability to put ourselves in others’ shoes. Caring about people when they’re scared or sad or angry or arrogant can be a challenge; it confronts us with our own pain and fear, with the places where we’re stuck. But if we can stay with those unwanted feelings, we can use them as stepping-stones to understanding the pain and fear of others. Tonglen allows us to acknowledge where we are in the moment and, at the same time, cultivate a sense of kinship with others. When painful feelings arise, we breathe them in, opening to our own suffering and the suffering of everyone else who is feeling the same way. Then we send relief to us all. . . .

Tonglen isn’t just a practice to do on the meditation cushion. It’s particularly useful right in the midst of our life, wherever we are as we go about the day. . . .

Tonglen reverses the usual logic of avoiding suffering and seeking pleasure. To the degree that we can open to our own pain, we can open to the pain of others. To the degree that we can stay present with our own pain, we can hang in with someone who’s provoking us. We come to see pain as something that can transform us, not as something to escape at any cost. As we continue to practice tonglen, our compassion is bound to grow. We’ll find ourselves increasingly more able to be there for others, even in what used to seem like impossible situations.

Pema Chödrön, Living Beautifully with Uncertainty and Change (Shambhala: 2013), 80-81, 82, 84.

Dearest friends – welcome to my blog post website.

In early 2018 I decided to make my blog posts easier to manage and more interactive by using a blog hosting service, where we can explore mysticism and spirituality together in these trying times.

I am Reverend Wakil David Matthews. I am an ordained multi-faith minister in the Ruhaniat Sufi Order with a Masters in Social Change from Starr King School for Ministry and a certificate in Spiritual Direction from the Interfaith Chaplaincy Institute. And I have completed a class to work as a Death Doula.

I am available for Spiritual Companionship, Weddings, Funerals/Memorials, and other Rituals and will soon offer a class in preparing for the end of life. Please contact me via the comments if you are interested in any of these services.

My work is always beginning again, as I sweep out the chambers of my heart and make it ready for the beloved. In this moment I am a spiritual companion, Sufi teacher, social justice activist, husband, father, grandfather, gardener/farmer, and elder in training.

But I hold all of those lightly and with humility and a sense of humor, realizing they mean nothing at all and must be constantly surrendered. With each breath, I open and accept what the Divine has for me to be… now, and now, and now…

I welcome your comments, insights, and reflections and I send blessings.

Rev. Wakil David Matthews