An Appalachian Wedding

This is my first post since getting back at it. It has been a great few months. I did not go far from my computer, but my efforts focused on dissertation writing. That is off the table for about a month as the committee members read and offer feedback. When that is done, I hope to be into research.

Thomas Berry was a Catholic priest and environmentalist who wrote the book The Dream of the Earth. He approached his environmentalism in a very holistic manner, incorporating a variety of traditions: Judeo-Christian, Eastern philosophies, and Indigenous people.

I feel that many people have moved away from the holistic relationship they subjectively and objectively engage in the world/ universe. We are not separate but part of a complex dynamic that is always incomplete and unpredictable.

Look up at the sky
the heavens so blue
the sun so radiant
the clouds so playful
the soaring raptors
woodland creatures
meadows in bloom
rivers singing their
way to the sea
wolfsong on the land
whalesong in the sea
celebration everywhere
wild, riotous
immense as a monsoon
lifting an ocean of joy
then spilling it down over
the Appalachian landscape
drenching us all
in a deluge of delight
as we open our arms and
rush toward each other
all of us moved by that vast
compassionate curve
that brings all things together
in intimate celebration
celebration that is
the universe itself.

Rumi ❤

I am back. I will take time and engage slowly. I have had a productive several months with writing and reading. My dissertationi went in to the committee last night and I am getting ready for my research proposal defense in the next month or so.

It is important to live in the moment which is the only time we can exist.

touchn2btouched's avatartouchn2btouched

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Sabbatical Time

I intended to this a couple of weeks ago, but put it off. I spend 10-14 hours a day on dissertation writing, so there is no time to blog.

I will likely pop on one day a week with a poem and check comments. When I took one break, I had over a 100 spam comments. I don’t want to experience that again.

I will likely be back on more full-time in late June or early July.

For the Traveler

John O’Donohue wrote blessings. This poem weaves in and out as in a mystical and mysterious way. The poem is a journey itself and offers insight into the idea that each moment we live we experience the newness of time.

We often forget, as adults, that nature does not measure time with a clock. It just exists in a continuous movement that is whole in each present moment that holds all of history and all imagined future. In the blink of an eye, it is gone and replaced with a brand new moment.

When we pause and look inward, we find the territories of the spirit that secure us in our lives. Each moment, we visit reminds of the last, but holds it in its wholeness, as well.

Every time you leave home,
Another road takes you
Into a world you were never in.

New strangers on other paths await.
New places that have never seen you
Will startle a little at your entry.
Old places that know you well
Will pretend nothing
Changed since your last visit.

When you travel, you find yourself
Alone in a different way,
More attentive now
To the self you bring along,
Your more subtle eye watching
You abroad; and how what meets you
Touches that part of the heart
That lies low at home:

How you unexpectedly attune
To the timbre in some voice,
Opening in conversation
You want to take in
To where your longing
Has pressed hard enough
Inward, on some unsaid dark,
To create a crystal of insight
You could not have known
You needed
To illuminate
Your way.

When you travel,
A new silence
Goes with you,
And if you listen,
You will hear
What your heart would
Love to say.

A journey can become a sacred thing:
Make sure, before you go,
To take the time
To bless your going forth,
To free your heart of ballast
So that the compass of your soul
Might direct you toward
The territories of spirit
Where you will discover
More of your hidden life,
And the urgencies
That deserve to claim you.

May you travel in an awakened way,
Gathered wisely into your inner ground;
That you may not waste the invitations
Which wait along the way to transform you.

May you travel safely, arrive refreshed,
And live your time away to its fullest;
Return home more enriched, and free
To balance the gift of days which call you.

Truth Calls

I love Khalil Gibran poetry/prose and those look like bleeding hearts in the picture. My mom and her mom always had them in our yard. They are beautiful and fit the poetry.

In heaven there are no smartphones

Some days I just rely on humour. When I am in church, I notice how many people use their cell phones and text. I wonder, if God texts?

Todd Lohenry's avatarBright, shiny objects!

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Dignity For The Damned

This is a powerful message about those who are often marginalized. To reach out even with a smile or a nod, sometimes is what speaks the loudest.

Being Drawn

Two days in a row I re-blog a post quoting Rumi. He just finds a way into one’s heart with words and images of inspiration. Beauty is found in everyday events as we loosen the cobwebs from our eyes and realize that everything shows itself as a gift that we are drawn towards.

731. The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you. Don’t go back to sleep. ~Rumi

Emmanuel Levinas was a Talmudic scholar who suggested the ethical response when we are called is Here I Am. He said that was actually a question. When we respond to the Other in that manner, we are asking what can I do for you. Seeing the two Rumi quotes reminded me of that ethical response that is a question.

nataliescarberry's avatarSacred Touches

Love’s secret is always lifting
its head out from under the covers,
“Here I am!”
~Rumi, as interpreted by Coleman Barks

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Morning’s first light
kisses the day to wakefulness
and announces Yahweh’s presence.
See it!
Feel it!
Taste it!
Touch it!
Hear the secrets
the dawn has to tell!
~Natalie Scarberry

The whole earth is filled with awe at your wonders; where morning dawns, where evening fades, you call forth songs of joy. ~Psalm 65:8   ✝

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The Meaning of Existence

I think this was a theme for the past week. What is existence? It is just being in the world and experiencing it in the most direct and pre-reflective way possible.

Les Murray writes about the impact that language has on how humans experience the world. Existentially, there is a difference between saying how we experience and saying how to experience. The former is just being and the latter is like a how-to manual.

When I just am, that is often the most rewarding moments I experience without realizing it and there is no way to intentionally recapture the moment. To just be is its own reward. When I try to express the feeling in words, it is indescribable. I use metaphoric, mythic, and poetic language to point at it, but always I fall short.

Everything except language
knows the meaning of existence.
Trees, planets, rivers, time
know nothing else. They express it
moment by moment as the universe.

 Even this fool of a body
lives it in part, and would
have full dignity within it
but for the ignorant freedom
of my talking mind.