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…

Today’s favorite monk quotes from art monks I’m studying:

“With so many unseen collaborations on our behalf,

who are we to block becoming.” 3rd C anonymous monk

“When i look at nature, i am forced beyond myself. When we switch our focus to something or someone as profound as Jesus for instance, we immediately are drawn into His love. We can’t see truly without being transformed by what we look at. We become as we watch well.

I can’t even see myself if i can’t see Him. He reconciles me to myself, and then to others.

We cannot truly look at Him, if we can see past religious traditions, without instantly, being led to love more. When I look at Jesus, i have no choice, but to love others. If I gaze properly at Jesus, i am compelled to love!” 6th C anonymous monk

And he added, “Why would we so vacuously perform our duty to become, to be formed more fully daily?”

i want to offer you

uncategorized blessings…

when we meet , we can be

more succinct

until then, friend,

let’s offer one another this

generalized sacrifice for one another,

pulling down the best for one another

in faith’s sight

until we can see clearly

face to face, then, the blessing will be obvious

redundant even-now, is our chance to really bless one another

our place to taste the bitter sweet tint of Grace…

Another monk’s prayer, on true discernment i found helpful today:

“May the Father’s real and tangible peace and kindness of being rest over you all this hour! That you would know or recall yourself into that place in His Heart of Peace, more instantly and constantly. That knowing of how you fit in the grand scheme and also your own story, and where you are in it, so you can keep living and becoming it!

Father’s Peace over all. His Grand Spirit is higher than your soul’s needs or tensions, though concerned with them! So we breath ourselves into Your Spirit, Father of all Life, including our small example. We do not stress, because You Father are not stressful.

I can see how many people really need the father’s  peace over their lives at this hour. So here is a release of Father’s peace over your hearts. The Father knows all your needs and wants, but we flail down here. Our soul’s get restless. But His Being knows, and we can know ourselves in it.

Reside, rest, find and found, ground yourself in His Bosom this hour.

Great Father creator God! There is no higher resting space. You are our home. We are fine and re-fined through and in You! Be our Peace, and help us to just release daily, even this instant, into the actual Being of Your Life.”

(So cool, these monk’s young and mighty astute prayers!)

 He goes on..”We are not isolated in the fray. We have Father’s spirit right here, who brings calm, knowing and even love into the midst of our daily actions! Love being the ultimate test and container of our lives. If and when we default to love, and let that be our highest priority and tone, we will find fruit and life. Does it have love as the central tone, is the real way to discern.”

What we talk about when we talk about love, to quote Raymond Carver…or at least what one monk in the 300’s was talking about…

Translating or interpreting some older monk’s prayers and thoughts today-i love discovering these gems. I liked this diary entry of his about love: this is my loose interpretation of his thoughts. i enjoy thinking about love as way to live…love always makes “sense” of everything in life. I tried to capture the tone of his thoughts.

Love!

“Love is the highest principle in God’s Way, it is His Core characteristic. God IS Love. So, when i wrap a situation, or even its interpretation, in love everything has room to resolve and come clear eventually, to rest and enter into His Being. I become a conduit guiding things into that space.

Love is higher than understanding, because our understanding, in the moment, is always partial. Our judgements aren’t in full sight ever, and we are, ourselves, in constant transformation.

Love, however, is impartial and at the same time practical! It knows and applies itself in kindness.

God is Love. Father’s knowing is unfailing.

So when we are confused, and choose to move in love, we are rewarded in the end, even with understanding. So we can apply justice and interpretation-other aspects of His Being-into action, once we have arrived in the peace of His Love. Once we have cored in His Core.

Love is The heart’s Mountain. When we move down from it, we bring peace and all the other great spiritual fruits—gentleness, kindness, patience, long-suffering etc.. It’s always practical to apply love to whatever situation we are in. It never fails. Honestly.

The valleys are blessed from the smoke on the mountain.

Of course, we get the pleasure of discerning our own issues from others, and the warfare aspect etc; but our basic default is meant to be love, and it always wins in the end.

For, Love always makes room for everything else, including ourselves and our own growth, and limited understandings. Love is the highest path or way in Him-it is the core of who The Father Creator God is. So, Love is always the best thing to do. And the brightest Spirit to move in.

 When blind, the best way to move is love. Love always leads us home, to Him and our true selves. For, Love re-calibrates us to what is Real!

When, I am confused, i always just start loving whatever is near, and everything clears.

And, Love is also the key to discernment. The Voice of God is always discerned through the tone of Love. The tone of love is how to discern The Father’s Voice from others (I John). If a true word is not spoken in the tone of Love, it is not a whole word! For God is One. His Love is not divided from His Truths. A truth apart from love is a mis-representation. He is both the truth and the way.

 When you can’t see, just love. For The Father’s heart is unfailing! Know that knowing, and you will be fine. If a great teacher lacks Love, he or she is not yet a great teacher!”

When my wife and I got home this week, we were locked out of our house, so we decided to sleep in my trailer for two. Nice to recall that home is not a physical structure, but a spiritual space,. It was nice to be vulnerable together again-to sukkot together once more. As they say where i am from, “rough weather makes good timber”. Anyway, thought I’d write a poem about our first night back to harvest even the bumps of coming home. It’s good to harvest the bumps in life, as there are so many little potential poems in waiting there.

locked out of our house, we

slept instead, in the airstream together last night

in the vulnerable steel cold distant wind womb

we tucked into some other world within

with faux firelight imaging at our feet

flickering from some unseen electric source.

(us who try to imitate the force and clarity of fire)

entering dream together,

we almost slipped out from our skins, freely into heaven…

and the possums, rats and cats

didn’t seem to mind us

being locked out with them

beneath the constant stars shimmering.

dogs bark in evening’s glow

church bells from somewhere below bellow;

and us, staring at the tree limbs shaping or at least framing, the sky

are encompassed in this view of emerging stars…

each, part of some constellation,

our skin tingling in cool evening tones.

whatever we were in the day

is passing, and we are becoming

what we look at well.

i’ve lived through a thousand evenings myself

but this is another, and we are cast into the sky

as beginners until we see it again.

I’m not saying each day is heaven, but

each day offers a keyhole to look through

until we become what we really see there.

that dog is moaning now, hungry for night feedings.

we are cold again on this rooftop, and waiting for morning;

but there again, is that star in red glow rising-seemingly,

not just for hope, but for something warmer like assurance

that morning will come and our skins will warm into another light again

and we will be fully home, in what we already know by each evening’s light.

Derek

After 911,

We were looking for “anything which was not nothing.”

even Styrofoam cups, too, held now, a new meaning.

(parts of xerox machines tumbling, along with the rest.)

Were there fresh coffee stains still warm in that one I found?

was someone sipping it on the way down, still chasing off and coming into

morning? did the angels borrow a sip for comfort too?

on the way down

we waited on George Washington’s bridge with all sort of tears;

some pressed back, some stuck in mid air…our fears, almost useless, until

one trucker told me he knew this day would come

he had seen it in a dream.  As for me, all i could see was an enormous thumb, lifting

and dragon black clouds forcefully forming over time.

we ran in shock, off the bridge leaving our stupid cars where they were

mostly we ran to pay phones down below, trying to call out, but

everything was frozen, jammed, static without motion-

then a voice would emerge, something familiar

i pulled out a quarter from my pocket, which i remarkable had

and called my friend in Brooklyn

everything ok friend? i’m watching them fall with you

just wanted you to know, we are one in witnessing at least.

then they made us run to our cars and take them off the bridge

for fear of more to come.

i could barely remember my indistinguishable rental car from Logan

i think it was black, that would make sense

we had to drive out of there. no one really knowing

who to help most. and all of us trembling on

one level or another, forever.