Waterfall ice climbing with Ronald

Half way up that particular
iced over waterfall in almost winter,
my older friend and i, spiked our boots into cold ice like
spurring a frozen horse in mid air, then, made ropes taut, readied for a temporary rest, half way up, to hover together for a suspended lunch…
wheat bread and salted salmon, as i recall….
the berkshire winds bring pine white birch scent into skin
today again, in november—that fall which knows what
needs to die to make it to the top of frozen waterfall…heels clinching
until we knew, we could continue upwards….
that particular cold of wind and ice in conversation with skin and age.
We ate as one, in silence
glancing at one another occasionally
in that way of exchange between men and earth and ice
which knows what eventually melts off.
We spoke only in that day’s insistency to climb;
later there will be a fire at night, and the comfort of story telling, but
for now, we are climbing the sheer slick face
of ice, and remembering what as yet unmelted water knows;
imagining what we will see when we both
crawl again, like kids, over the top of this waterfall
over and into the crest of the womb we are aiming towards….
and remember why we came out to climb in early winter
what must be the frozen waterfall of all
our names.

My dream life continues to be good meaningful cinema! I never get bored in my dreams!

From my recent dreams: I am by the sea, which suddenly swells as in a tsunami.

I am with young people i love, and start to teach them how to ride the waves and see the level and rhythms of the coming swell.

But then i go in after one who went under, and get pulled under; a great powerful hand submerges and pulls me out-Jesus the Life guard, i presume (as i ascend, i get to see amazing diademically colored fish for my own joy, i’m sure! As God knows i love watching the mystery of fish!), and hurls me onto the shore where a group of spiritual leaders from the two previous generations are meeting. They have good coffee, but aren’t fully aware of the intensity of the surf or of their proximity to the intense storms.

I am able immediately to encourage them, and to honor the older ones as well, who felt slightly ignored by my generation of leaders. But understand the ocean outside them all. We were all needed to make it work, and save the younger ones from unnecessary deaths. But, we had to work together, and focus on the big story.

The dream appeared to be about: My generation’s role as a translator and watershed between generations, warners and encouragers. And specifically now for me, which generation is mine to bless, and how.
As in most of my dreams, there are three generations on earth or in the scene at once. Not all have the same roles, but all strangely work in tandem without always knowing it.

Great dream, but I was looking forward to surfing a bit more! Perhaps the waves will calm so i can ride a good wave before the end!

In the meantime, nice helping the generations relate to one another in Love. Love learning and listening through dreams regardless!

My dreams keep me informed and entertained, in that good way of seeing “in between” (the meaning of true enter-tainment!) Also, humor and wisdom seem to hang out in the in between (crossroads, rims and ridges and sea edges!) Between generations of His purposes, between chapters in the long book we are all in!

Let’s keep dreaming friends, and connecting in Love!

I dream a lot. Last night had this fishy surf one….

From my dreams: I am by the sea, which suddenly swells as in a tsunami.
I am with young people and start to teach them how to ride the waves and see the level of swell coming. But then i go in after one who went under, and get pulled under; a great powerful hand submerges and pulls me out-Jesus the Life guard, i presume (as i ascend, i get to see amazing diademically colored fish for my own joy, i’m sure! As God knows i love watching the mystery of fish!), and hurls me onto the shore where a group of spiritual leaders from the two previous generations are meeting. They have good coffee, but aren’t fully aware of the intensity of the surf.
I am able immediately to encourage them, and to honor the older ones as well, who felt slightly ignored by my generation of leaders. Old cars, are still my favorites!
The dream appeared to be about: My generation’s role as a translator and watershed between generations. And specifically now for me, which generation is mine to bless. As in most of my dreams, there are three generations on earth or in the scene at once. Not all have the same roles, but all strangely work in tandem.
Great dream, but I was looking forward to surfing a bit more! Perhaps the waves will calm so i can ride a good wave before the end!

Where are we at which is like the old stories? Someone asked me this week: Great quest-ion! He said, you like interpreting our times through the old stories, which one seems to apply best now?

After talking about Jeremiah’s times of rising and falling empires and demographic shifts, plagues, pestilence and wars, and shaky leadership (which is also true of our times), i settled on Noah in his ark with his family and all the animals, just towards the end of his 40 days, when he sent the bird out to see if the deluge was receding yet.

Both wisely using his time in the ark, and hopeful expectancy for the land to return and his future vineyard to get planted, which even the flood itself would nutrient, once receded.

Noah’s temptation must’ve been, of course, to jump ship prematurely. To go swim for land himself. But God sent the Dove. The Spirit knows when it’s time to leave the ark, having reproduced the animals and more intimate with family, and go party in the the new world’s vineyard. Noah was wise to trust the bird (and, by extension, God) to show him when it was time to return to land.

While in this ark of waiting for these floods to recede, help me learn from you what is most needed to know. Help me to enjoy the ark itself and just being with you, my family and friends and the animals as they reproduce!

What we do while on the ark during this particular deluge, determines the type of vineyard we will have once land returns. Let’s make sure the animals are reproducing on our arks, and that our intimacy with our family is growing richer, so when the Dove returns with that branch, we will be ready to party together again, and drink great wine. This is the time, where the bird has been sent out in hope and expectancy, and even the joy of Joy to come! It is also the great time of ark rest and sabbathing with the intimacies and tending which is on the ark. There are lanterns in the ark, it’s not dark, but in waiting for land to return.

I think this story holds keys for our moment. My friend liked the hope implied in that moment of Noah’s story. First bird is out…waiting and enjoy the ark in the meantime! Let’ Wisdom develop while in waiting. And don’t forget to feed the creatures! May this be a moment of expectant hope and even Joy for you all friends! And enjoy your ark time! It won’t last forever.

Wisdom waits well. And knows when it’s time to speak and party, and when to wait in expectant hope for land to return. Ark on friends, land will eventually return. I’ll see you at the vineyard party then!

That same monk who seemed to like the Greeks, or at least wanted them to be invited to the party, paraphrased in illuminated text:

“Jesus came into Plato’s cave of shadows and illuminated it, so you no longer had to be a great philosopher ( or just use reason apart from the senses) to be enlightened (The Light broke en to our in!) The Form took form of us all. The universal became the particular. The realm of shadows has seen a great Light. And now we are all invited to the great disco party!”

And since it’s a cave party, I’m sure Jeremiah, at least will be there, and probably a bunch of ravers! I’m in! Love cave parties!

The humor and wisdom of the early monks; still needed now:

My wife was telling me about one renown desert monk who retreated to the desert (not a bad idea these days!) to gain Wisdom and just sit with God in a cave.
He did so, so well, that He became Wise, and other monks wanted to be near him, so that it got way too busy in the desert for him and he moved away. Love that story.
You’re trying to get to the garden of intimacy, you do, but then everyone sets up tents in the garden and it’s just like the city you tried to escape! Ever feel like that?
I also like that it’s still powerful to seek Wisdom (especially in times of clamor and trauma-it’s not escapism to seek the Face of God in tumultuous times! In fact, it may be most helpful!), and a crowd always seems to gather once you find Him!
Jesus was always walking away, and people were following Him. At times He told His students, wait here, while i go pray! But everyone wanted to be close by Him. “How can I only do what I see my father doing, if you guys are always around talking?” I can imagine him at least thinking to Himself at times!
Anyway, many of the monks were funny without realizing it!
In our times, I do think finding that inner intimacy garden or desert no matter how many people are around, might be the boldest aid to those in need, actually being in Peace creates the safety for healing.
That cave Joy of communion, blesses the whole city, and you can be sure people will gather-yellow has a way of being seen!
Love and Peace, Joy and Hope attract, and are very attractive right about now, and seemingly rare! If we can be in those, we will be agents of healing in a very wounded time. Even if we can’t hide out forever. And have to keep finding the mobile garden or desert! Or like that old monk, move caves.

Nice juxtaposition from an early clever monk! Love finding treasures in the spiritual archives today. Like visiting heaven’s library while here! This monk, like me, was evidently a sky watcher, based on his metaphors!

Love it when people see things from different angles! Or overhear the angels who were floating around at His birth.

“After He has suffered He will see the light of life (in us!). We are His reward! We are the stars in His night sky, which He enjoys gazing out on!”
The image is sort of like The Father gazing at His Son, the Great Star in us! Love that image. Makes me want to paint.

Love it when monks say old things in new ways! And I like the idea of being the stars in Jesus’ night sky, also and He, also mysteriously there with us, as the Morning Star! What a cool constellation. As a sky watcher, i’d watch that one all night!

I love the image of the Father gazing at His night sky and seeing His Son shining in us all, in this amazing constellation. To sit with The Father watching His Own Sky—that would be eternally cool! Like sky watching with your dad!

When I was much younger, i lived in Jerusalem, teaching english on the side to both arab and jewish kids. After evening market, i used to go up on Jerusalem’s white stoned rooftops to fall asleep. I just found this little poem i wrote on a napkin way back then. Still feels true, so as we weren’t able to take our trip to Jerusalem this year, nice to still have her poems on crumpled napkins, in my heart, and on my skin and in my bones some how, as well as many friends who are still there, all of whose voices are alive to me as poems on napkins!

From these ancient domed moon touched white stone rooftops
another young man falls asleep…
on his skin, maccadamean nut scent, cumin, paprika
and all the people’s food’s fragrances, like voices, settle into night.
when i wake up, i hope i’m old like you friend, lover, inexhaustible hope-er;
for if we die in our sleep
the alarm clock won’t go off for anyone
and the violins and trumpets we dreamed of as floating above us,
will fall to earth and be engraved
in these endless rolling whitestone rooftops,
as a young man’s bones.
But, for now, moon is a blanket of sheer white light
illuminating us all throughout the night.

Show me how to do the boring stuff better God
fold the socks, take out the trash, look with hope
back at my dog. Otherwise, the day is lost,
as this is today’s incense, rising up to You.
And, let changing the oil in my car, be a sacrament today!

Since those wild urban coyotes brought me out of dream last night, here was another poem i wrote in response, sleepily, on my napkin, as their eerie response to sirens in a vacant city, felt like a good metaphor for our times-such longing, but still responsive to our distress calls at night:

the wild coyotes in my backyard tonight
are yelping again at our empty citied sirens
responding to our distress calls, they awaken us again into
the night we are actually in. Perhaps,
teaching us to pray, in their own longingly authentic way.
Or at least, they teach us-how to yelp well in response to night.