As soon as I have some more time, I will add a new post. Nosferatu is coming soon...
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
The Stream & the Potter
One of the biggest surprises on my spiritual journey has been prayer-- not just my private devotion or silence or meditation-- but the surprise has been for me in corporate prayer-- words or silences exchanged with large groups of people together.
It is like a stream that flows from us-- poetry and words or silence held together there is this flow that happens beyond the words, beyond the silence, there is the being in this together & putting this out there in the universe. The flow and stream that is sent-- be it Christian Prayer or Buddhist prayer or dare I say it, Atheist prayer. (yes, I know an oxymoron and perhaps I look like a moron, but.. we can ponder that in another blog!)
I realize that this statement must sound utterly absurd—for what is a spiritual journey but prayer. Prayer however is one the greatest mysteries and paradoxes of the unseen—how is it that our words or silence or walk or any sort of action that we might “do” and call prayer, how can it actually change or alter anything— and yet it does. Prayer changes everything. Not in some Hollywood special effects kind of a way, but the very core of our being is changed, made lovelier by prayer.
The image of a potter comes to my mind and I suddenly see the beautiful iridescent interior of a fired ceramic pot—on the exterior, you can’t see the loveliness of the hidden interior and yet you know it is present. So it is with prayer. Prayer, the filling of our consciousness with such joy poetry and love causes an interior beauty that can’t quite be noticed on the exterior and yet, you can tell gazing at the vessel that such care and beauty are present on the interior—an iridescent loveliness that is numinous is present in the one that centers their life on making space for God. That is the work of prayer. And prayer of course is not just bowing our heads and saying a few lovely words—it is an inner quality that softens the ground of our being. Prayer and a life time of it changes us in ways that aren’t quantifiable by any methodology or logic. Prayer is a way of being that is intentional and open to the presence of God.
I believe that all written traditional prayers—be they Christian or other—point us to that reality of such transformation. When we allow the words of any prayer to wash over our being, it smoothes out our roughness and makes us into that transformed being that we are called to be. All written prayer points us to that changed reality. So it is with the Lord’s Prayer, an ancient that points not just to Jesus Christ or Christians, but points to the ultimate human fulfillment—that we will be fully human by living into that transformation given to us by the divine. The Lord’s Prayer is about the growing up of our own humanity, the awakening of consciousness to our fulfillment as spiritual beings on a human journey. Each phrase is about our growth from selfishness into selflessness- it is about transcendence of our selves to God. It is not just the uttering of the words in repetition that will change us—its not about the words, Our Father in Heaven said over and over that make for transcendence. It is the intentional and interior space of a human soul that slowly opens in availability to those words spoken or held in silence. It is a saturation point or a receptivity that somehow opens up to such interior beauty and fulfillment.
The other oddity about such transformation is, however momentary it seems to be—it shimmers in the eyes briefly and then is gone, like a humming bird feasting for a moment, lovely and then gone. It is an awesome moving experience that is fleeting at best, at least in our human observation. I believe that ultimately, it is all that is truly seen revealed and known—because in those brief episodes of such beauty and goodness, it is where we find God and know that shining presence.
More than anything else, what I realize is that Spirit is not done with me yet.
It is like a stream that flows from us-- poetry and words or silence held together there is this flow that happens beyond the words, beyond the silence, there is the being in this together & putting this out there in the universe. The flow and stream that is sent-- be it Christian Prayer or Buddhist prayer or dare I say it, Atheist prayer. (yes, I know an oxymoron and perhaps I look like a moron, but.. we can ponder that in another blog!)
I realize that this statement must sound utterly absurd—for what is a spiritual journey but prayer. Prayer however is one the greatest mysteries and paradoxes of the unseen—how is it that our words or silence or walk or any sort of action that we might “do” and call prayer, how can it actually change or alter anything— and yet it does. Prayer changes everything. Not in some Hollywood special effects kind of a way, but the very core of our being is changed, made lovelier by prayer.
The image of a potter comes to my mind and I suddenly see the beautiful iridescent interior of a fired ceramic pot—on the exterior, you can’t see the loveliness of the hidden interior and yet you know it is present. So it is with prayer. Prayer, the filling of our consciousness with such joy poetry and love causes an interior beauty that can’t quite be noticed on the exterior and yet, you can tell gazing at the vessel that such care and beauty are present on the interior—an iridescent loveliness that is numinous is present in the one that centers their life on making space for God. That is the work of prayer. And prayer of course is not just bowing our heads and saying a few lovely words—it is an inner quality that softens the ground of our being. Prayer and a life time of it changes us in ways that aren’t quantifiable by any methodology or logic. Prayer is a way of being that is intentional and open to the presence of God.
I believe that all written traditional prayers—be they Christian or other—point us to that reality of such transformation. When we allow the words of any prayer to wash over our being, it smoothes out our roughness and makes us into that transformed being that we are called to be. All written prayer points us to that changed reality. So it is with the Lord’s Prayer, an ancient that points not just to Jesus Christ or Christians, but points to the ultimate human fulfillment—that we will be fully human by living into that transformation given to us by the divine. The Lord’s Prayer is about the growing up of our own humanity, the awakening of consciousness to our fulfillment as spiritual beings on a human journey. Each phrase is about our growth from selfishness into selflessness- it is about transcendence of our selves to God. It is not just the uttering of the words in repetition that will change us—its not about the words, Our Father in Heaven said over and over that make for transcendence. It is the intentional and interior space of a human soul that slowly opens in availability to those words spoken or held in silence. It is a saturation point or a receptivity that somehow opens up to such interior beauty and fulfillment.
The other oddity about such transformation is, however momentary it seems to be—it shimmers in the eyes briefly and then is gone, like a humming bird feasting for a moment, lovely and then gone. It is an awesome moving experience that is fleeting at best, at least in our human observation. I believe that ultimately, it is all that is truly seen revealed and known—because in those brief episodes of such beauty and goodness, it is where we find God and know that shining presence.
More than anything else, what I realize is that Spirit is not done with me yet.
Unspoken Agreements & Tribal Knowledge between the you and me
Sociological & Psychological Studies have been done showing that human beings without ever speaking a word to their friend or companion or family member or spouse make a deal. The deal is that each will remember different bits and pieces or aspects of memories: the halves will each hold a half of the virtual scrapbook in their minds.
Simply put, you remember one aspect of a memory and your beloved remembers another piece of it. And you remember one day and your beloved the next.
I was recently reminded of this unspoken reality when two close friends from the past got in touch with me via facebook. Both relationships were such that it was like picking up where we left off. And then it started to happen: remember… and soon we were each reminding the other of aspects of our common story that we’d forgotten: two halves once again brought back together to be whole again in that common story we held.
Even after getting off the phone, there were memories that came to me—stuff I had long since forgotten suddenly dusted off and remembered from the back recesses of my mind.
However, it isn’t always as pleasant as this. How many times have I uncomfortably sat with older couples arguing about some minute detail from their wedding day or arguing whether or not it was Thanksgiving 2006 or 2007 when old Aunt Ruth kicked the bucket. Ugh…
That of course is trivial in comparison to those embodied scrapbooks that are so disparate and incongruent that you’d swear that the two speaking are talking about different stories rather than their common one. It is this torn and ripped place that can feel very crazy.
The siblings that see childhood so differently: one claims that the other is a klutz while the klutzy one recognizes bruises from a violent father. One spouse sees alcohol abuse while the other sees only wanting a drink to unwind.
Stories are sacred—especially our own personal ones.
A friend some years ago shared with me after a very painful divorce a study about this embodied unspoken memory issue. I remember thinking at the time, “Oh yeah, this makes sense.”
And then there were so many light bulbs that went off after that: wow, this is why relationships that end catastrophically (divorce, not speaking to each other, etc) can be so painful and devastating-- we are losing not just a person, but half of our story.
Truly there is tribal knowledge between us-- and yes, it is difficult when we sever our stories from the tribal truth for the sake of our own reality and sanity. Wow, I remember thinking-- this is really helpful to know and to notice.
I am still haunted by the places of incongruence that I know—the places where the pictures in my virtual scrapbook that looks so different from the "yous" in my life. Its not the small differences or arguments like what year when such and such happened—it’s the bigger ones that are troubling. Is it me that's crazy or the you? Or maybe both? I don’t know quite what to do with those.
Of course, our perceptions are different and our memories are not accurate recording tools—rather they are story makers.
The question I have in the disparate places are how can you hold up both pieces of perception and honor them—is that a possibility? Or is it that the best we can do is choose not to talk about those places of radical incongruence? Or is it that we should flee from such places and relationships? I don’t have answers for this, only more questions and memories and unspoken pacts formed between relationships.
And notice, I've kept it simple-- there is only in this the two-- the you and the me but you know there's more than that: there's the tribal knowledge of relationships and unspoken memory between 3 or 4 or 5 or more.
I think I'll take that glass of wine now.
Simply put, you remember one aspect of a memory and your beloved remembers another piece of it. And you remember one day and your beloved the next.
I was recently reminded of this unspoken reality when two close friends from the past got in touch with me via facebook. Both relationships were such that it was like picking up where we left off. And then it started to happen: remember… and soon we were each reminding the other of aspects of our common story that we’d forgotten: two halves once again brought back together to be whole again in that common story we held.
Even after getting off the phone, there were memories that came to me—stuff I had long since forgotten suddenly dusted off and remembered from the back recesses of my mind.
However, it isn’t always as pleasant as this. How many times have I uncomfortably sat with older couples arguing about some minute detail from their wedding day or arguing whether or not it was Thanksgiving 2006 or 2007 when old Aunt Ruth kicked the bucket. Ugh…
That of course is trivial in comparison to those embodied scrapbooks that are so disparate and incongruent that you’d swear that the two speaking are talking about different stories rather than their common one. It is this torn and ripped place that can feel very crazy.
The siblings that see childhood so differently: one claims that the other is a klutz while the klutzy one recognizes bruises from a violent father. One spouse sees alcohol abuse while the other sees only wanting a drink to unwind.
Stories are sacred—especially our own personal ones.
A friend some years ago shared with me after a very painful divorce a study about this embodied unspoken memory issue. I remember thinking at the time, “Oh yeah, this makes sense.”
And then there were so many light bulbs that went off after that: wow, this is why relationships that end catastrophically (divorce, not speaking to each other, etc) can be so painful and devastating-- we are losing not just a person, but half of our story.
Truly there is tribal knowledge between us-- and yes, it is difficult when we sever our stories from the tribal truth for the sake of our own reality and sanity. Wow, I remember thinking-- this is really helpful to know and to notice.
I am still haunted by the places of incongruence that I know—the places where the pictures in my virtual scrapbook that looks so different from the "yous" in my life. Its not the small differences or arguments like what year when such and such happened—it’s the bigger ones that are troubling. Is it me that's crazy or the you? Or maybe both? I don’t know quite what to do with those.
Of course, our perceptions are different and our memories are not accurate recording tools—rather they are story makers.
The question I have in the disparate places are how can you hold up both pieces of perception and honor them—is that a possibility? Or is it that the best we can do is choose not to talk about those places of radical incongruence? Or is it that we should flee from such places and relationships? I don’t have answers for this, only more questions and memories and unspoken pacts formed between relationships.
And notice, I've kept it simple-- there is only in this the two-- the you and the me but you know there's more than that: there's the tribal knowledge of relationships and unspoken memory between 3 or 4 or 5 or more.
I think I'll take that glass of wine now.
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