The implied ocean. I like it when things are suggested rather than overtly stated. Subtlety reflects how Reality actually is to me. I am a clown, but the universe is subtle—it suggest something beyond itself constantly, something infinitely complex and beautiful. “The unseen attributes of God are revealed in creation, so we are without excuse.”

I appreciate that about nature. It unabashedly suggest something even grander than itself! A good model for us all. I prefer art which is suffusively suggestive rather than prescriptive. It is the same with good preaching or anything else. Show down tell, sort of rule of thumb. Paradox is just our perception of something more complex than we can understand. In some sense paradox is always seemingly. I see as more than a clown, but i think i still am presented as one. Nothing wrong with the gerber, but there are also clearly roses. Each of us must be what we truly are. But we can certainly appreciate what others are as well.

From a 20th C art monk i came across today in study:

“We cloth ourselves with Christ, but He also clothes himself with us. We are His fashion statement. Also, He peers out through us like a unique lens, which He takes pleasure gazing through. He gazes through us. He wears us like a suit. To the degree we conform to His contours, we fit Him perfectly.”

Interesting meditation on what union is, on the experiential level. I like the idea of Jesus wearing me like a funky suit, when He goes out dancing. We are His cameras, His suits..great metaphors to understand union with Christ. Otherwise, what does it mean for Christ to be inside us, seated on our hearts or core center. His enjoyment of how we are truly made, is part of His pleasure of being. “We are collaborators, yielders to His Life’s contours in us.”

I think lots about St. Paul’s midrashing (which most of his letters are) about “being in Him”. His Spirit in us, and ours in Him. What are useful metaphors for that union in image? A camera lens and a suit aren’t bad images of what we are. Fun study, regardless. Looking for images of what we really are.

Considering a hawk i saw on the way to the airport yesterday in San Fran:

that golden gate park hawk flew over my car when it chose to, i suppose.

Me, halfway out of the city on 19th Avenue, internally noting many friends along the way, each block, over years, rolling along the ocean’s folds, stress-lessly to behold her again. freed, in gaze, by her  bold certainty of flight, her clear sense of direction of knowing herself fully, unquestioningly….

sheer in her descent, and sun flecked in her rising…assurance of when to

hit which waves of or years of light…

i, at least, saw her through the car window, in pursuit of morning.

And, in eucalyptus’ scent that seemed like a crimson green crisped colored blanket leading to the east, warming and in-freshing, even my car, she was

enough of a gift for a proper sunday morning in san francisco. Instantaneously,

the synagogues and various other services were being held in the open air like us

 being formed like this hawk or the earth before cities and now through them…the Pope was talking to the Lutherans in Swedish on the radio, judgement was starting to begin with the house of God; watching her also being slowly reconciled to herself; but for me today, there was 2.3 ounces of hope in her powdery red hawk breast alone. here,

with everyone slowly lounging on, towards breakfast

in that healthy receptive gaze of being that marks this city

when it chooses to look outwards and serve, and truly be itself, freely offering its jewels, birds and songs for free, in kindness, not hoarding the sonic scenic banquet of her solar blessings,

or losing herself in the insularity of glory, the naked surfer lost in himself at dawn,

who knows but won’t share the wave, but, rather, sharing how to ride the recently occurring waves gladly, like the Pope, did ok, today on the radio or through whatever media or mediums the treasures of life fly…which, we kids passing through take note of…

Just before i saw that hawk, i was considering how fast and efficiently, the golden gate park dogs caught frisbees

(not how happy they looked, or are, but how alive, how readied, poised, positioned, like this city…modularly potentially adaptable to the fractal nature of The Light things are here-water, wind, wave-the three characteristics of The Holy Spirit- even this golden park is meant to reflect back that fact!)

how in “sweet shape” the earth still was or is, despite us…

some days or moments within, are clearly outside of us

like the inner potential of a city still

reflected in a single bird’s life who flies through her.

I wish i had a bird’s eye view constantly.

Regardless, that red tailed hawk

caught my eye and heart today on the way,

seeing, through a rental car glass dimly,

to the airport.

Church bells, sea gulls and pilgrimage pathways, and books…textures of Antwerp…

Doing a little church history research this month in Antwerp, not just monastic beers but also churches!

 Got to visit this church again—Saint Carolus Borromeus. They gave a blessing to all visitors of the nations. Nice blessing, as i feel like a visitor everywhere I go, including the nation i was born in, but rarely get a specific blessings for being one. Afterwards, walked the pilgrim’s path (the northern leg of the medieval Camino trail) back up to our studio across from Jakob’s Kirk. Nice that these buildings are still offering creative haven and a chiming for travelers and those passing through, which in some sense, is all of us.

This particular church’s altar piece was by Rubens, and various other artist through the years. Nice to think about a time when the arts and the church worked in tandem-one blessing and helping express the other. It’s been a while unfortunately.

Also the light in this first Jesuit church square is always special and touched by tone.

This city is also intoned or telling its story, through church bells still, and not necessarily in a nostalgic or touristic way.

From our studio space, we encounter three layers of sonic ecclesial texture which ring daily—St Jakob’s, St Catherine’s and St Mary’s—the first, recalls history, deep rolling bells-take you to this century’s wars and the havening of Jews here (Red Star Line etc), the second, more a tingling, come to life sensation (God is not done with you Europe sense), while, St Mary’s carries a call to a wedding or banquet or both! Conversational intimacy! So much resides in the tone of a church bell, at least for whom it tolls!

Anyway, nice to be back among the gull calls, church bells  and a place to consider from…

 I like thinking of symbols which hold or express the identity of places. Here, church bells, sea gulls, and books; fashion and the arts rest on these. Monastic in that way. Makes sense, Thomas of Kempis and many other great monks (some of whom made great beer) resonated with this region. So do I. Thanks again Antwerp, see you soon creative friend! Still under construction all of us.

“All activities are a medium to commune with, get to know and hence love, and actually encounter, and thus be transformed by God; this includes the arts.” Reverend Shoehorn

Sorry for the length again, I’m long winded and worded-more a Whitman, less an haiku poet-but enjoying studying great spiritual thinkers about art and spirituality again today. Theology of the imagination is one of my favorite subjects. Came upon this gem by Thomas Merton:

“Art-even a true deep to deep encounter with art- allows us to find ourselves and lose ourselves simultaneously, for art is not an end in itself. It introduces the soul into a higher spiritual order, which it expresses and in some sense explains.

Music and art, photography and poetry attune the soul to God because they induce a kind of contact with the Creator and Ruler of the Universe. The genius of the artist finds its way by the affinity of creative sympathy, or co-naturality, into the living law that rules the universe. This law is nothing but the secret gravitation that draws all things to God as to their true center…it makes us alive to the tremendous mystery of being, in which we ourselves, together with all other living and existing things, come forth from the depths of God and return again to Him. And art that does not produce something of this is not worthy of its name.” (No Man is an Island)

Merton had a great, and unfortunately rare in the Christian tradition, ability to integrate his understanding of the arts and spirituality, and express them both from a Kingdom Perspective-a type of revealed theology, i would say. (I can think of George MacDonald, Oswald Chambers, Lewis and a few others who have modeled this integration well-not the worship of the imagination as the Romantics did, but a sanctified imagination, a yielded imagination; creativity as a place of spiritual collaboration with Our Source and Creator. In this sense, creativity becomes a place where our true identity is called forth or activated.)

“Things are beautiful to the degree that they conform to real Reality. Everything that is, is beautiful insofar that it is real.” Nice meditation today, echoing King David’s meditations on the commandments (Psalm 111), as a way to trail into the Reality in God of what they pointed towards, law into Spirit, sort of thing. (Tillich’s “Symbols participate in The Reality to which they point!”).  Just as we are His symbols or poems of Himself (Ephesians 2:10). Art can facilitate this!

The relationship between the imagination and spirituality has always captivated me. As another creative saint put it, “To have a sanctified imagination is to meet God directly in His and our own true creativity-being to Being-by encountering His, ours is called forth and formed. We become collaborators again, as in the garden, even collaborators in interpretation! Art making becomes a tabernacle of meeting, just as all activities should be.”

Anyway, fun researching this stream of knowing. Now I’m going to go make some art! Or as Elvis sang, “A little less conversation, a little more action.” Or is it, incarnation!

Here in antwerp

awakened today to bells ringing and rain sounds-typical winter but for my dreams

last night. in one my car could fly. i know where i would drive

rain, books, listening…an introverted monk yet waiting eagerly for a sunny day…

even what i dreamed mingles with the bells, gulls and words this morning

i sit for a while and remember back

at least before the wars here, and then turn

towards forward…these bells are also ringing for us here now.

so i pull my phone out and try to put the bell tones inside it

so i can carry them with me. like those who pray at night carry the dead.

and the piano player is already practicing this morning-the warmth of piano tones

with the sight of cold north sea rain through the window—that’s what it’s like

even the gulls are trembling in the never finished church tower of St Jakob’s.

the old people couldn’t make it to church to pray today, as the stones are just too cold on a day like this. So i’ll pray for them, as those who are unseen in prayer.

or like those who pray at night.

This region has a monastic spirituality, a contemplative spiritual heritage. People like Thomas a Kempis hung out here. Things like to reside in and just be themselves. I relate to that. It is less a builder and more a be-er (plus, it has good beer!). Sometimes it is good to remind ourselves that it is enough to just be “in Him”, and allow Him to whisper our true names to us, to trace our white stone names on our hearts, as George MacDonald, CS Lewis’ mentor, might put it.

There are several tones of church bell rings in this neighborhood. The St Jakob’s is deep and resonate; the st Katherine’s is higher pitched and hand rung. Then St Mary’s is like a call to a banquet or wedding. They mingle here throughout the day, teaching things.

Refreshing to be in a place whose spirituality is marked and carried by sea gulls, church bells and books. A monastic resonance, and always a monk like residence for me here. Nice to be in a place which highlights being above building. We need both in our spiritual diet, but sometimes i just need to resonate with Him, and my deeper self-do less for Him, and be more in Him.

  I come from a  place which is constantly building and carving-a forceful men lay hold sort of place, where partnering is forging, carving, and actively bringing justice, feeding the poor. Those are all good things but sometimes it is good to step back and tend the well from which all this action flows, as well. Thanks to the low lands for reminding me to be contemplative at times. To be in Peace before i try to bring peace to others.

If you were alone in the universe, with no projects to pursue, with nothing to do, who would you really be, as one monk asked.

Each region has it’s spiritual gifts and heritage. I needed this one, may it always be protected and have room just to be itself. For a tree really is praising God, just by being a tree. And so are we.

“Each city and country has its gifts, and struggles, and unique broken but redeemable reflections of certain aspects of The Real. Finding their particular nuances and what aspect they reflect of God, has become part of my spirituality.” (from a book on the theology of cities, I’m reading; to disciple the nations you have to know them and love them first like people!)

Cities are like people to me-on a journey of becoming, in need of love and revelation to know themselves, just like us. I like walking alongside them, and enjoying what they already know, and seeing what they need. Listening to them on their own terms, not mine. Trying to hear them for what they truly are, not through my projections or needs on them.

Each city reflects unique aspects: Antwerp has creative curious friendship; berlin a strong house for all nations and bold leadership-arm of God stuff; Prague, that sweet song of solomon fragrance, a lover’s attire, and a place of mystical exchanges in conversation; Austin, creative incubator, entrepreneurial catalyst haven…each city has their gifts and their struggles to become. It is a joy to get to know so many places well. So many places still yet to know and love in this life. Perhaps we never finish in loving…

Of course, like people, our very strengths unredeemed are also our greatest weaknesses, or areas of life which are hardest to live out. So the biggest wounds are often where the greatest strengths reside. I like looking there first to know and listen. So a place of friendship, can become insular; a place of leadership can become presumptuous, a place of curiosity can become mentally unstable etc—but just on the other side of these shadows, is the redeemed identity, standing in the Light, and reflecting upwardly. I like to bring salt and light right there. So I can see who the other really is.

I also like to think of how individual’s stories who live in a city, relate to the city’s biography. How our personal stories relate to our city’s narrative has always fascinated me. Why am I here in this place at this moment of our journeys. What developmental stage is my city at, and my own—how do they match and where do they not? I love asking these sorts of questions as I travel.

Considering a hawk i saw on the way to the airport yesterday in San Fran:

that golden gate park hawk flew over my car when it chose to, i suppose.

Me, halfway out of the city on 19th Avenue, internally noting many friends along the way, each block, over years, rolling along the ocean’s folds, stress-lessly to behold her again. freed, in gaze, by her  bold certainty of flight, her clear sense of direction of knowing herself fully, unquestioningly….

sheer in her descent, and sun flecked in her rising…assurance of when to

hit which waves of light when…

i, at least, saw her through the car window.

And in eucalyptus’ scent that seemed like a crimson green crisped colored blanket leading to the east, warming even my car, she was

enough of a gift for a proper sunday morning in san francisco. Instantaneously,

the synagogues and various other services were being held in the open air like us

 being formed like this hawk or the earth before cities and now through them…the Pope was talking to the Lutherans in Swedish on the radio, judgement was starting to begin with the house of God; but for me today, there was 2.3 ounces of hope in her powdery red hawk breast alone. here,

with everyone slowly lounging on, towards breakfast

in that healthy receptive gaze of being that marks this city

when it chooses to look outwards and serve, and truly be itself, freely offering its jewels, birds and songs for free, in kindness, not hoarding the sonic scenic banquet of her solar blessings,

or losing herself in the insularity of glory, the naked surfer lost in himself at dawn,

who knows but won’t share the wave, but, rather, sharing how to ride the recently occurring waves gladly, like the Pope, did ok, today on the radio or through whatever media or mediums the treasures of life fly…which, we kids passing through take note of…

Just before i saw that hawk, i was considering how fast and efficiently, the golden gate park dogs caught frisbees

(not how happy they looked, or are, but how alive, how readied, poised, positioned, modularly potentially adaptable to The Light things are here-water, wind, wave-the three characteristics of The Holy Spirit- even this park is meant to reflect back that fact!)

how in “sweet shape” the earth still was or is, despite us…

some days are clearly outside of us.

Regardless, that red tailed hawk

caught my eye and heart today on the way

to the airport.

It’s the little things which set us off and upwards to consider…