My favorite monk quote today: “We are becoming the highlights of His Kingdom film that He projects on the enormous screen of the universe for His Own viewing pleasure. We get to be actors in His own cinema.” That quote made me happy. It’s a different, more nuanced way of calling us sons and daughters, brothers and sisters (family metaphor).

  More like Paul’s idea that we are His best poetry (masterpieces) worth pronouncing (Ephesians 2:10), and which He is capable of pronouncing through The Son. That one, is more like life as a grand poetry reading by God, which I’ve always related to. But cinema is another helpful and current metaphor! Nice.

   We are songs waiting to be sung, notes waiting to be played, poetry waiting to be read, or a film waiting to be projected uninterruptedly forever, as we yield into and to the Great Film Director! Good meditation today. Apropos in a city of great visual intelligence anyway. Not unlike Paris. Maybe this monk could translate best the Kingdom categories to this type of person or city. I always liked how St Paul switched to poetry or philosophy when needed to communicate the message-why not film?! Just a flickering thought today!

Sea me.

Found these notes and photos in my journal from my last birthday out here at Point Reyes, California. I think i was feeling poetic that day, being with my wife and sea. The ocean has a way of Fathering us into ourselves…

  The cool blue virulent enlivening sea breeze of the pacific-father calling of sea-heal and sky, recalling it today into my skin, bones, the why of knowing (St John’s blessings for the older, of knowing; when i was here in youth i was overcoming, only overflowing, but now i rest in wave’s strength/length, peace-You got me in Your Wavelength, the trust of becoming!)- the stones of being, wind washed and sea brushed with time, awakened in stillness-still me as remarkably crisply focused and sharp expresser, tumbler, wave of life, yet… fluid-water surge’s might- a center in the midst of mist-something offering shape, contour-a boundary of being given to those who forgot theirs.

         Teach me to separate the waters with You.

  Stillness (continue to), still me, and help me see and be, my part—I in Thee (Buber’s song), a sunset sea colored pebble skipped across a grand scaled sea surface-or, I maybe, some sort of seamless showcase, the sheer sheen of disco ball reflected in a window, or a simple pebble a boy throws when he’s learning to pitch an impact across the seamless surface of a pond-to make ripples for others to see by, and recall where the fish are, or trace them there/here-or, those bright neon yellow lines on the runway to tell time by, so others know how to land. Make me something like that yellow slabbed runway—someplace where You may land.

  Me, a cascaded tilted lamp like light of some odd flickering sort, gently scattered, or half sinking into glistens, across waters, or wetness itself; a wet series of circles, or rivulets, a temporary importation of life aimed or at least slanted, towards something more…a fluid sign, a wooden post made of water, i suppose; or, a continuous ripplingly direct expression, an overflow of Your Life in me; you wear my personality like a sparkling glove and direct the traffic of the sea through me… a type of yielded might which others might not notice, but which holds firm as micah reflects flecks at the instant of sunset, (that’s its one job)…let me be that type of glistening-a  singularly focused shimmer, one fleck focused on its Source, a refraction staring directly into The Light… until, i’m truly useful in directly reflecting You, until I’m more, and more than me. Until then, let’s be friends. Let’s share a practical light.

 I think of you often through the sea Father. Thanks for letting me also see me. Or starlight on water, calling forth other constellations from the California sea. Or whatever or wherever we are together. That’s what I always wanted to be.

The cool virulent enlivening sea breeze of the pacific, recalling it today into my skin, bones, knowing- the stones of being-wind washed and sea brushed, awakened in stillness-still, remarkably crisp focused and sharp, but fluid, a center in the midst of mist-something offering shape, contour-a boundary of being. Stillness (continue to), still me, and help me see and be, my part—I in Thee (Buber’s song), a sunset sea colored pebble skipped across a grand scaled sea surface-or, I maybe, some sort of showcase, the sheer sheen of disco ball reflected in a window, or a simple pebble a boy throws when he’s learning to pitch an impact across the seamless surface of a pond-to make ripples, for others to see by, and recall where the fish are-or, those bright neon yellow lines on the runway to tell time by, so others know how to land. Or, a cascaded tilted lamplight ( or a tilted airplane if needed) of some odd sort, gently scattered, or half sinking, across and into waters; a wet series of circles, or rivulets, aimed towards something more…a fluid sign, i suppose; or, a continuous ripplingly direct expression or channel of Your Life in me; a type of might which others might not notice, but which holds firm as micah reflects flecks at the instant of sunset, (that’s its one job)…let me be that type of glistening-a  singularly focused shimmer, a refraction… until, i’m truly useful in directly reflecting You. Until then, let’s be friends.

A quick meditation not yet fully formed or incarnated, yet…but from a reading of an early monk’s meditation on this passage from the prophet Isaiah:

 “That they may see, and know, and consider, and understand together, that the hand of the Lord hath done this, and the Holy One of Israel hath created it.”

“One of the reasons He transforms us-or puts us on a path of healing- is so that others may see that it is God who did it—this is the motivation for true transformation! That’s the point. It’s not just about us getting better, though that’s a a very pleasant side effect for us. Our motivation is that He wants to reveal Himself first in us, and then through us! This is why inner transformation by union with Jesus, is the priority in the Christian walk, and defines it really.

What is a christian? Someone who has chosen Christ’s spirituality as their own. Someone in union with Christ progressively gaining, embodying more of His Actual Life through union and intimacy with Jesus. The practices, prayer, study, helping the poor etc are mediums for union and increasing intimacy with the Person and Nature of Christ. We should see the fruits of His Life increasing in us over time—all the fruits of His spirit should be growing in us who are with and in Him.  Isaiah 41:20—”that they may see and recognize, consider and gain insight, that the hand of the Lord has done this!”

As we allow Him to heal and transform us, we become living signs pointing to God. That should be our motivation for becoming more whole or healed. That others would know, and therefore love God.

What was Jesus’ personal spirituality: prayer study, helping others, returning always to His Father, would be the simplest version of the basics. And as He did so, He bore the fruits of God. So that is the path or practical walking out of this way, and does distinguish it from other religions. We are uniting with His Nature and Way. We are entering into that space between the Son and His Father. That’s the core metaphor of christian spirituality.

The practice of christian spirituality is to merge with Jesus’ spirituality and Life, the fruits are His. Apart from Him, i can do nothing which last past myself…

The secret of longevity of impact is allowing Him to come more fully inside of us—the starting point is the Heart of our will or center, but the journey from salvation into a deeper sanctification or moving more fully in His Nature is life long. He must be invited into the whole house. The first salvation is just the porch. We are called to become more than mere apprentices, we are called to at least become spiritual adults. To be more than followers, but to take on our Master or Mentor’s characteristics.

 This christian spirituality of union with Him Himself is unique—we see Him as more than an example of how to live, we union or bond (religare—religion) with His actual Life and Being. It is a spirituality of union with Jesus! We shine, so that He may be seen! That’s the basics.

 But our motivation for spiritual growth, must be that He Himself is revealed in us and through us.He reveals us as stories of redemption of gradual transformation-but the point is, He reveals Himself by transforming us into ourselves!

 He wants to make mini-priest, mini-versions of Himself; and as He does, we will ironically look more like our selves (we lose ourselves into Him in order to find ourselves and be useful to others and the world)—be more authentic and real. We will be even more nuanced and particularly ourselves, as we merge and enter depth intimacy with Him. That really is one of God’s ironies! St Paul became himself, when He was blinded! When he lost a vision of what he valued and thought about himself, he came into a deeper understanding of who he really was. Peter did the same. He was named as He saw who Jesus was.

 We are not representatives of religion, but symbols of Christ-even our own stories and identities are meant to be living testimonies of who He really is. We are representatives (symbols) or rather, embodied manifestations of the sons and daughters of God—the brothers and sisters of Jesus. That’s His aim. To find ourselves by knowing Himself. Our motivation is that He would be known. Your testimony is about His ability to transform humanity by who He is. And it’s point is that others may see and know the One who is able to do so-to cause us to shine in His Glory, and by doing so, be who and what we truly are.”

On my morning walk, I came across an abandoned jar of honey on a white rock-seriously! So, this poem came. Seems to be about identity and seasons of life—we’ll see!

Honey on stone at sunset:

I can travel into  what I see now

I don’t have to be in it to know it.

my inner heart’s eyes know, by engulfing what i see in love.

for the first half of life, i touched it all, drank it down, let it

wet my lips until parched. I broke the jar, until i knew.

now i can appreciate it as is… as light passing slowly

as sunset, through a jar of honey sitting alone on a hill

on a white stone i never saw before.

casually mentioning, or whispering, my other name to me.

From morning studies today:

Been reading elders, so much peace when you read people who, like King David, just didn’t care anymore what other’s think, and even your opinion of yourself starts to fade, from my own experience!

These little poetic prose thoughts came today as visitors and are something about letting go of spiritual perfectionism—the need to always get it right in order to please God, or feel on course in life. They came to me this morning while i was sorting out what i “should” do today. It reminded me of St Augustine’s great quote: “Love God, and do what you will.” For me, poems or poetic prose are invited visitors! I’ve always felt this. When they arrive, i always welcome them as friends!

Go take a walk, it doesn’t matter anymore where you go, you will meet Him there.

Go down to the cafe, look at stranger’s faces again and be thankful for that light.

Or up on the hill, with the birds still hunting their prey. But don’t grow tired watching them work

so hard. Just watch and be grateful, and return. Maybe you’ll have something left

to say. Or maybe, one day, you will just be silent again, as in the womb. And more yourself. More governed, by Love.

spiritual aging:

There were the days, when getting it right was everything

obedience was meeting God

then came that season of choice

when He could be met wherever you stepped

and would correct your falter with Wisdom

And now, you can’t mess up as long as you

find Him there!

I met him in timing then only.

Later, it was space itself.

When the two came together

I was barely there.

Another monk’s quote: (my translation)-word i was considering as i wandered through the muraled alleyway church today!

“I keep waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under me, but God keeps it there. I expect it to be pulled out, based on my experience, but  He’s kind to keep it there. Maybe in the Kingdom, despite our distrust in Reality to hold, the rug never does get pulled out from under us, we are always loved, always included in the beloved, always cared for. Maybe we have to learn to live with that fact, embarrassing as it is—for God so loved us…The foundational truth in Reality, is that we are dearly loved, despite our performance. Everything else starts there.”

A morning visitor, or two or three is always nice!

These came today as visitors, and are something about letting go of spiritual perfectionism—the need to always get it right in order to please God. It came to me this morning while i was sorting out what i “should” do today. It reminded me of St Augustine’s great quote: “Love God, and do what you will.” For me, poems or poetic prose are invited visitors! I’ve always felt this. When they arrive, i always welcome them as friends!/////////

Go take a walk, it doesn’t matter anymore where you go, you will meet Him there.

Go down to the cafe, look at stranger’s faces again and be thankful for that light.

Or up on the hill, with the birds still hunting their prey. But don’t grow tired watching them work

so hard. Just watch and be grateful, and return. Maybe you’ll have something left

to say. Or maybe, one day, you will just be silent again, as in the womb. And more yourself.

 /////

spiritual aging:

There were the days, when getting it right was everything

obedience was meeting God

then came that season of choice

when He could be met wherever you stepped

and would correct your falter with Wisdom

And now, you can’t mess up as long as you

find Him there!

I met him in timing then only.

Later, it was space itself.

When the two came together

I was barely there.

 /////

 On my morning walk, I came across an abandoned jar of honey on a white rock-seriously! So, this poem came. Seems to be about identity and seasons of life—we’ll see!

 /////

Honey on stone at sunset:

I can travel into  what I see now

I don’t have to be in it to know it.

my inner heart’s eyes know, by engulfing what i see in love.

for the first half of life, i touched it all, drank it down, let it

wet my lips until parched. I broke the jar, until i knew.

now i can appreciate it as is… as light passing slowly

as sunset, through a jar of honey sitting alone on a hill

on a white stone i never saw before.

casually mentioning, or whispering, my other name to me.

 //////

The flutter of red leaves against sky, outside this window

is enough to know forever

we belong. And why would we doubt, when they are joined by the hover

of hummingbirds gathering to taste her berries, or doubt when blue bird

shows up and scares off the tremoring of this pane.

There were the days, when getting it right was everything

obedience was meeting God

then came that season of choice

when He could be met wherever you stepped

and would correct your falter with Wisdom

And now, you can’t mess up as long as you

find Him there!

I met him in timing then only.

Later, it was space itself.

When the two came together

I was barely there.

Go take a walk, it doesn’t matter anymore where you go, you will meet Him there.

Go down to the cafe, look at stranger’s faces again and be thankful for that light.

Or up on the hill, with the birds still hunting their prey. But don’t grow tired watching them work

so hard. Just watch and be grateful, and return. Maybe you’ll have something left

to say. Or maybe, one day, you will just be silent again. And more yourself.