Roselands, Monday Morning

Roselands Shopping Centre, Sydney (est., 1965); Monday morning 10.00 AM; a small crowd most will go to Miranda nowadays; people wearing face masks rushing about here and there; how to know who is fine and who is not; “Where are you marching?” (Quo vadis); the rich get richer, the poor grow poorer; profits versus prophets; “Now listen, you rich people, weep and wail because of the misery that is coming on you” (Jm. 5:1); I like the quieter places; this was one of my old haunts; I wore a mullet short at the front and sides long at the back; on the wall near the escalators large black and white photographs commemorating the past; a handsome young Roger Moore in one looking into space; a grandmother in curlers sitting at the fountain with her grandchild expressionless in another; Jimmy’s Kitchen; appetizers; fired rice or noodles; Paul Bocuse; Alain Ducasse; Anne-Sophie Pic; I look around past my right shoulder; a cluster of friends sipping their short blacks; they are old Greek men characters from a past story; one of them is against all vaccines, so he says; I understand what they are saying; they are ‘killing time’; I remember Sophia P. from Russia; we studied theology in Thessaloniki; she told me that time “was all we ever had”; R. C. Sproul (1939-2017); “The issue of faith is not so much whether we believe in God, but whether we believe the God we believe in”; the triumph of grace; it is not good to regret; except for some few times; why did I have to cross the Cretan’s path; almost lost my mind not to mention my hope; had to rediscover the remnants of my faith from the crevices between the floorboards; “In the multitude of the anxieties within me, Your comforts delight my soul” (Ps. 94:19); the old self still wars strongly within me; “Here is the work, there the reward; here the struggle, there the crowns”; St. Barsanuphius the Great (6th century); Rainbow Lorikeet; Gouldian Finch; Rainbow Bee-Eater; the infection in the jaw has returned; another cracked tooth courtesy of Mae Sot; drilling into the calcium phosphate; pain is a reminder of mortality; who is Tom O’Bedlam; read me another poem, my dear man; https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8YMJcIvpUlc; the cemetery is the greatest university; from Latin universitas ‘the whole’; Sapanta cemetery, Romania; Cimitero Monumentale di Milano; Père-Lachaise, Paris; the aseity of the Deity; “in our image, in our likeness” (Gen. 1:26); back down to earth; Of Mice and Men (John Steinbeck); George Milton and Lennie Small; scrambled eggs on sourdough toast with fried tomatoes; a regular Latte with skim milk, please; a glass of water to wash the tablets down; that’s the reality; all is good; by the grace of God; my waitress friend asks me questions; “when are they going to microchip us”, she asks; “when we are ready”, I say and secretly weep into the web of my right hand; “The revelation from Jesus Christ, which God gave him to show his servants what must soon take place” (Rev.1:1); apocalypse “an uncovering”; Patmos in the Aegean Sea; hold these little flowers; don’t break their stem; water them through to the end; Daffodils; Gardenias; Marigolds; I now look back around my left shoulder; a young couple [heavily tattooed] hold hands to complete the picture; next to them a family of five waiting for their order; I remember our Reno Café; the exotic syrups for the milkshakes; passion fruit; tropical banana; cool lime; an early memory from the ‘shoppe’; Mother by the Philips radio calling out to Father; “George, they’ve killed the other one!”; Father in response, “Who, Helen?”; it was Robert Kennedy; it seems like yesterday; I close my eyes and I am back sitting at my favourite table with my homework; in our Reno Café where I first scrapped my knees and heard the stories; Mr. Bill with his gold rimmed glasses; ‘Sir’ Ronnie in his dark suit and fedora hat; and Big Jack with his Kent Brewery (KB) long necks; cigarette smoke and tall stories interleave just beneath the ceiling; across the road from the ‘shoppe’ my first school; Newtown Primary School (construction years 1875-1921); my earliest football coaches Mr. Riley and Mr. Higgins; Morse code; the duration of a dash three times the duration of a dot; unearth the words from coals and diamonds; Nikki Giovanni (b. 1943); Those Who Ride the Night Winds (1983); “Life is a marvellous, transitory adventure”; Lavrentis Mahairitsas (1956-2019); San Ton Palio Stratioti; https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rm8iCTFyTGQ; an itch on the tip of the nose; another beneath the left eyebrow; like yours right now; we are more alike than you think; same fears and dreads; a ‘one-way ticket’ in the back pocket; “And this is where the story lifts into the air”; The White Road (2015); Edmund de Waal; comedy is vital; satire even more; they have brought down tyrants; tensions in Tigray rise; Mexico surpasses 100, 000 Covid deaths; Black Lives Matter protests emerge in Brazil; another coffee before I leave; this time a plain white no sugar; George Carlin (1937-2008); Pierre Desproges (1939-1988); Richard Pryor (1940-2005); Monday morning 11. 52 AM; three new books from the bookstore on the ground floor [opposite Mr. Mint]; Shuggie Bain (Douglas Stuart); The Death of Vivek Oji: A Novel (Akwaeke Emezi); The Happiest Man on Earth (Eddie Jaku); Bakers Delight; Roseland’s Florist; Go Vita; Katina concluding with ISTAS 20; Global Technology and Development; Public Interest Technology (PIT); Jacques Ellul (1912- 1994); Oh! If only you were here today you wise soul; “Technique has taken over the whole of civilization. Death, procreation, birth all submit to technical efficiency and systemization”; I too must leave soon; take Mother to the ophthalmologist; she is preparing her eyes for the long journey ahead; “From Here to Eternity” (1953); Burt Lancaster, Montgomery Clift, Deborah Kerr; directed by Fred Zinnemann; Thespis; Theatre of Dionysius; T. S. Eliot poetic drama; life on the wings of bees; change the nectar into honey; for the love and for the wounds; l must remember to reply to Howard; to our amazing Miss Pat; to Cathy A. on the progress of the journal; friendship a precious balm to the soul; “Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born” (Anais Nin); Calvin and Hobbes (Bill Watterson); Robert Schumann (1810-1856); Piano Concerto in A Minor Op. 54; https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ynky7qoPnUU&feature=emb_logo; Protests in Bangkok against the long-standing monarchy in Thailand; AstraZeneca announces Oxford vaccine; crisis in Ethiopia and demonstrations in Uganda continue; “Nothing is more seductive for a man than his freedom of conscience, but nothing is a greater cause of suffering” (Fyodor Dostoevsky); moral sense of right or wrong; El Greco (1541-1614); Nikos Kazantzakis (1883-1957); Nikos Xilouris (1936-1980); I hope George hasn’t forgotten his licence back home in Gerringong; our drives down together are precious to me [I wish for him too]; a group of people in wheelchairs with their carers; pray I could speak to them to ask for ‘the keys’; they know; I wonder who is out there right now reading my pulse; the statue of David; Portrait of Adele Bloch-Bauer I; the Sistine chapel; "We shall hear the angels, we shall see the whole sky all diamonds, we shall see how all earthly evil, all our sufferings, are drowned in the mercy that will fill the whole world”; Uncle Vanya (1898); Anton Chekhov (1860-1904); benevolence; resolution; departure aka ‘take off’; do svidaniya.

On the quest for a deeper understanding

“Cry out for insight, and ask for understanding.” (Prov. 2:3)

“Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words.” (Romans 8:26)

“A gem cannot be polished without friction, nor a man perfected without trials.” (Seneca)

“When you arise in the morning think of what a privilege it is to be alive, to think, to enjoy, to love.” (Marcus Aurelius)

“At any moment, you have a choice, that either leads you closer to your spirit or further away from it.” (Thich Nhat Hanh)

“The least of things with a meaning is worth more in life than the greatest of things without it.” (Carl Jung)

“The spiritual life does not remove us from the world but leads us deeper into.” (Henri J.M. Nouwen)

“There are years that ask questions and years that answer.” (Zora Neale Hurston)

“Before you call yourself a Christian, Buddhist, Muslim, Hindu or any other theology, learn to be human first.” (Shannon L. Alder)

It is good to make the clear distinction

Source: http://teacherlink.ed.usu.edu/tlnasa/reference/imaginedvd/Files/apod/apod/ap050425.html

When reading ‘spirituality’ literature as it is normally earmarked in libraries and bookstores, it is good to make the clear distinction between the ‘amateur’ and the ‘professional’ author. Especially nowadays when there is a heightened level of suffering and seeking in the world. The amateur will open their heart, furrowed but still beating, to speak something on life’s joyful-sorrows. The professional, on the other hand, has ‘secrets’ and polished merchandise to sell. The first approach takes the reader through the ‘stations of the cross’ as it stumbles and stutters before the great questions which life puts to us. The second approach with its tailor-made answers is as undemanding to write as it can be destructive for the susceptible consumer whose head is filled with unreasonable expectations. Our hearts are not cut stone to be categorised on some ‘zeitgeist’ chart. They are [to paraphrase Algernon Swinburne when he refers to Walt Whitman’s lips], ‘blood-beats of song’. This is why we are especially moved and aided by the experiential spiritual literature which comes out of concentration camps, and prisons, and hospitals. And exile from country.

One of the most powerful deceptions

One of the most powerful deceptions of our increasingly automated world, where people similarly to perishable goods are ‘tagged’ with an expiry date, is the dreadful lie of the easy path to peace and enlightenment. These two ways are invariably sold and marketed together. The truth is much more sobering and gut-wrenching than the professionally generated manual which goes something like: “12 easy steps to realizing the god within and how to make your first Million Dollars at the same time!” Growth can only ever come by way of struggle and tension. It is a gradual formation and development. It can be like an enclosed chrysalis breaking through its hard-outer case. Some contemplatives following in the tradition of the unjustly persecuted 16th century priest Lorenzo Scupoli, have called it “spiritual combat”.[1] Most of us know with even a modicum of life experience behind us, there are no short-cuts to realising peace within our hearts. That is a calmness or a ‘stillness’ which leads to self-awareness: the examination of our thoughts, emotions, and actions.  The soul, that immaterial part of ourselves, needs to declutter and to remove unnecessary things. Increasingly difficult with our almost total immersion into a ‘hot-wired’ world of algorithms and computer-implementable instructions. And yet, we despair not, for all things are possible. The soul is not limited by boundaries nor can it be imprisoned by time: 

“The psyche, in turn, is the openness of human being for the world as a whole in its three-dimensional temporality of past, present and future which the nous within the psyche not only understands in some way, but also with which it resonates in moods of all kinds. It is only because we share this mooded resonance with three-dimensional time that we humans can share music.” (Michael Eldred)

The highest accomplishment to all our realisations

The spiritual quest can at times be ugly and brutal and indeed, on occasion even shocking. Like Christ’s prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane: “And being in anguish, he prayed more earnestly, and his sweat was like drops of blood falling to the ground” (Lk. 22:44). The search for meaning will make serious demands of us, require lots of courage, and ask the hard questions. We will have to face up to our greatest fears. This is the path of understanding our greater purpose in life. Otherwise we will aimlessly drift without focus and be lacking in both compass and discernment. All effort will then become wasted. It would be terrible to die like Márquez’s protagonist character, Santiago Nasar (Chronicle of a Death Foretold), who “died without understanding his death.” To have meaning in our lives, as close as we can reach it [for there will always be questions and doubts], is the highest accomplishment to all our realisations: “Those who have a 'why' to live, can bear with almost any 'how'” (Viktor Frankl). All these realisations give us a better understanding of who we are and what we have been called to become. They contain the fundamentals of ‘who’ I am and the impact of my presence in the world.

What is truly important to us

What is truly important to us? What sacrifices are we willing to make to discover our true identity? Are we connecting with other souls? To what degree can we say that we are living meaningful and productive lives? Are we prepared at any moment to confront death, for in truth, this will reveal how far we have progressed into our journey. This life time pilgrimage of ours which begun with our birth. “Perhaps the deepest reason why we are afraid of death is because we do not know who we are” (The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying). It is not an easy interrogation of the self [“our essential being”]. How detached are we from the ‘tinsel and glitter’ entrapments of the world? We know how easily it is to be influenced, for as Christina Kline has written: “The things that matter stay with you, seep into your skin.” Are we open to revealing our own vulnerability if this means to become a more compassionate human being? These are tough questions. We tend to push and shove them out of the way for when we are ‘ready’. But when exactly is that right time? Our hearts can become so hardened, like the “hardened” heart of Pharaoh (Ex. 7:3), that none of this might matter anymore. We don’t have to be living in a cave or in the desert to contemplate such wonderful things. There is a saying that speaks to this matter and is often heard from the monks of Mount Athos when advising pilgrims: “It is not the place but the Way.” For many this quest, ‘the way’, is to know and to be known by the Creator. For others it is to find their place in the universe. These paths have something manifestly in common: the aching yearning to reach our capacity and the practising of certain disciplines to make sure we have given ourselves every chance in this quest.

For some of us this struggle to realize our potential

For some of us this struggle to realize our potential and come to terms with our “faith seeking understanding” could take years. This should not discourage us. So long as we are building. Anselm knew very well what he was talking about with this fides quarens intellectum. No one can step into the ring to fight this most important of battles for us. We are alone to work our way through ‘the darkness’ when we are called to go through it. The most beautiful of earthly beings, Saint John of the Cross, has called this “the obscure night”. We keep steadfast despite the wounds and fears, till we come across those shards of light which others before us have attested. They have remained resolute that they might also testify. We educated ourselves through our tribulations that meaningfulness, which is our sense of purpose, is something which requires both endurance and contemplation. None of this is imaginary. It is as real as a deep cut to the flesh or the sharp sting of a red pepper on the tongue. “If a man is to live, he must be all alive, body, soul, mind, heart, spirit” (Thomas Merton). In other words, it is the quest to find our best ‘pair of shoes’:

“Sometimes a man can become possessed by a vision. Perhaps it makes no sense to anyone else; perhaps it is a revelation to everyone. Yes, this man will say to himself, this is the way the world is supposed to be. This is how I am supposed to fit into it. He will know, like a man trying on shoes, that he has finally found a pair that will serve him for a very long walk indeed. So he begins, one step at a time.” (Joshua Cooper Ramo)

There are no hidden secrets to peace and enlightenment

There are no hidden secrets to peace and enlightenment. The imaginary storyteller Lionel Suggs has put it very well: “The secrets of the universe aren't really secrets. It's just that humanity is too subjugated by their blissful ignorance to ask the right questions.” If there are any secrets at all, they are evident ones that most of us discern and attempt to put into practice knowing in our hearts that grace is stumbling upon us, rather than the other way around. Gratia urget nos: “grace presses on us”. To be sure, not everyone feels this way, but can we say with an equal amount of certainty, that not everybody even if it’s only been once, has not been confronted with existential dread? This “perpetual oblivion”, as Saint Sophrony Sakharov writes, “as the extinguishing of the light of consciousness”. There is a mystic in each one of us. Who is there who does not believe there are truths to be found which go beyond the intellect? We have all prayed in one form or another, or have been dazzled by the stars, or have wept to music, or have had our spirits compressed by the “prime mover”. The search for peace itself is mystical at its core for we are tapping into a higher state of consciousness, that is, the transcendence of our everyday urges and compulsions.[2] The problem is though these ‘secrets’ are plain enough to see it is difficult to put them into practice, that is, to put them into practice consistently. And that’s okay too. We are, after all, those life-long ‘tapestries’ in the making:

“Our stories make us who we are. And each story has its own purpose and its own reward. Each story rings true and each story is worthy of the ages. There is no such thing as an insignificant life.” (Laurence Overmire)

The connection to the two great virtues

These universal truths, sagacious and sensible lessons, for the greater part established on the practise of detachment and acts of compassion have been freely given to us and put down in writing by the wisdom teachers of our collective spiritual traditions.[3] We will not find these truths, which the habitually misread Nietzsche might call “transformative lessons”, in the post sent to us by some ‘faux guru’. Asking the right questions ‘who am I’ and ‘what am I doing here’ is what remains vital [even if this might simply mean to make more correct decisions than wrong ones], and these questions ordinarily have to do with what can I ‘contribute’ rather than with what can I ‘take away’. Again we discern here the connection to the two great virtues: love and compassion. We might think of this as an ‘affectionate co-suffering’ for salvation, however we might understand it, is never a thing on its own. It is from here which good things will flow for both individual and community.[4] In the Gospel, the Christ himself, understands his mission fundamentally as one of service: “For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many” (Mk. 10:45).

This interplay between the self and the outside

Of course, there is and will be, that ‘right’ moment when it seems the marvellous resolution has at last arrived, but pride would make us blind to the fact that there are strong forces, even on the outside of ourselves, which can influence our decision making. And these can often determine the journey ahead unless we endeavour to take some control like the weathered and experienced sea captain in a storm. This interplay between the self and the outside is like the flesh and sinews which wrap around the bones of the living. Or the thorns which run up and down the stem of a Black Baccara rose. In Buddhist thought it is this clinging onto negative experiences and the desire for temporal things which produces dukkha, suffering or the “unsatisfactoriness” in life.  It is similar to “sin” which in the Greek is hamartia, this literally means: “to miss the mark”. So we do our best to not fold, but to ride the storm out. Humility, remaining modest, will prove to be one of our most loyal friends. This will sometimes mean to surrender, not to give up. Of course not, but to let go of the useless weight that we might be better able to shift our gaze. The numinous Japanese author Haruki Murakami has expressively described these ‘stormy’ trials which come to contest against our spirit and what we might expect:

“Once the storm is over, you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about.”

[1] https://www.amazon.com.au/Spiritual-Combat-Dom-Lorenzo-Scupoli/dp/1783792744

[2] https://blogs.scientificamerican.com/cross-check/what-does-it-feel-like-to-be-enlightened/

[3] https://www.amazon.com/Wisdom-World-Religions-Templeton-2002-03-01/dp/B01FKTL3X8

[4] In the context of Christian theology the end goal of the spiritual life is to “become partakers of the divine nature” (2 Pet. 1:4), which is to participate in God’s divine energy, the overflow of his glory. If this is of interest please see: Panayiotis Nellas, “Deification in Christ: Orthodox Perspectives on the Nature of the Human Person”, (New York: SVS Press, 1987).

Life can be a bit like the 'underside' of a tapestry at times

“Immediately, something like scales fell from Saul’s eyes, and he could see again.” (Acts 9:18)

“Acquire the Spirit of peace. And thousands around you will be saved.” (Saint Seraphim of Sarov)

“Everything I love is born unceasingly/ Everything I love is always at the beginning.” (Odysseas Elytis)

“The impatient idealist says: ‘Give me a place to stand and I shall move the earth.’ But such a place does not exist. We all have to stand on the earth itself and go with her at her pace.” (Chinua Achebe)

“To know how much there is to know is the beginning of learning to live.” (Dorothy West)

“His gaze and yearning are way outside the loop. His pilgrimage has lots of holes in it. See him wandering alone Beaming to himself.” (Michael Leunig)

“In the dark one can sometimes see/ so much more clearly than in the day.” (David Brooks)

Hold fast onto your dreams

September 17, 2011

Christina Hotel, Bucharest, Romania

You tell me you want to see your name in one of my stories. I really don’t know why. Perhaps it is more of encouragement, that you like the few things I have read to you. I am not who you think I am. I am an ordinary man. I do write, yes, but more than likely what I scribble down will be lost or deleted, or at best dismissed of little or no value. So, okay, my dearest Alina, consider yourself amongst my lost and found. Hold fast onto your dreams and never betray the fairy tale in your heart which makes you hop, skip, and jump when you serve my breakfast in the morning. And remember, if you should ever happen to fall into quicksand the mistake is to panic and to fight it. The secret, they say, is to relax best you can and slowly waddle yourself out. Other times, you will know when, think of the jet pilots who must go full throttle when landing on the flight deck lest they miss the bands and drop into the water.

Then there are those heartrending times

Like magnets which point in opposite directions to push apart and repel for the field lines cannot join up, there are souls, too, which are incompatible. There are times when we seem to know it as if by intuition, like a parent might instinctively know when something is bothering their child. In other instances it could take longer. We might hurt a little for we have given something of our heart to the other, yet after some time has passed, we move on. We learn from the experience and take down ‘notes’. Then there are those other desolating times, when we have given, it would seem, all of our heart and spirit to the other [and sometimes this might be to an institution we have dedicated our lives to] and we find much to our shock and disbelief that when it really mattered, we were incompatible. There was no harmony. The one was not consistent with the other. This is when it gets very hard and moving on will not happen quickly as we might wish. Invariably, “the deepest wounds”, as the Greek philosopher and Eastern Orthodox theologian Christos Yannaras has said, are those of an “unfulfilled relationship”. But it also from here, from this high place which marks the wound, that we have the better view of the landscape which is still ahead.

Our own communities might reject us too

Organizations to a large extent help shape identity which makes individuals definable and recognizable. How much more faith-based institutions or similarly based workplaces with their overwhelming references to community and fidelity. We might be belittled and made to feel unwelcome, and whatever gifts we might possess, they are neither recognised nor acknowledged. We could consider that “it has all been such a dreadful waste”. Already in the grip of that horrible feeling of having the life sucked out of you, now left with nothing: an empty shell, you think. There is a marvellous title to one of Philip Roth’s books that describes this perfectly. The Humbling. Consider the first line: “He had lost his magic.” What to do when you have been made to feel you have lost your magic? Do not stop believing in your talents and capabilities. Ever. To do otherwise would be your adversary’s greatest victory, and your life’s most serious loss. You might often feel defeated, maybe even vanquished, but your mere presence is the sign that your “seed” is not yet done. There are the many lessons of this resilience in nature herself. Think of the lotus seed that slept in a dry lake bed in north eastern China for more than 1,000 years to sprout in our lifetime like its modern sibling. It resisted the drought. It waited. It is the plant which has come to symbolize rebirth.

The first thing is to accept this ‘time frame’

The first thing is to accept this ‘time frame’, that is, to understand that no amount of anguish or anger will make the hurting “go away” any quicker. It helps immeasurably for someone we trust, who has travelled in among those fields, to tell us to endure and that the suffering and pain we are feeling at the moment will decrease in intensity, that is the one certainty. You learn to carry it. To then become a wound which has healed and which only we ourselves can re-open. The potential for hurt will remain. Some fortunate few will be able to discard it once its purpose has been served. Like the larvae which shed their old skins. But if you accept this wound as a ‘pearl of wisdom’ for your soul, on that day when you are able to receive it as such, you need not see it as a wound but as a piece of history marked on your body, a period in your ‘book of life’. We write the story as we go. We might not be able to go back and delete the pages, but we can to a large extent determine how the next chapter is to be written and what goes into it. The German-born Swiss author and painter Hermann Hesse whose writings reveal a detailed search for identity and self-knowledge, has perfectly said [summarising the ancient philosophical lesson]: "Each man's life represents a road toward himself." So we not only discover ourselves by going on this great adventure, but we are at the same time participating in creation.

Some people are frightened by this actual possibility

Some people are frightened by this actual possibility. It is either too difficult to imagine or too great of a responsibility to accept. Sartre was wrong in this, that “hell is other people”. We need not be forever trapped in other people’s perceptions and judgements of who we are. Rather our neighbour might very well prove to be our salvation. The comprehension that our freedom can determine who we are or can be, should not be a source of anguish.  Rather it should be an acknowledgement to the reality of our potential [from the Latin potentia ‘power, might, or force’]. To be sure, we do not control the future, but we can go a long way to determine what we put into it. More often than not, it is this alone which makes the difference. And to a large degree determines the results of our providence. We find this disclosure in the earliest of our literatures, including in Homer’s two epic poems the Odyssey and the Iliad. Later generations find this same truth reiterated in Constantine Cavafy’s unforgettable Ithaka. It is the most famous of his designated “Homeric poems”:

“Ithaka gave you the marvellous journey/ Without her you would not have set out/ She has nothing left to give you now/ And if you find her poor, Ithaka won’t have fooled you/ Wise as you will have become, so full of experience/ you will have understood by then what these Ithakas mean.”

Life can be a bit like the ‘underside’ of a tapestry at times

https://www.heirloomtapestries.com/tree-of-life-tapestry-light.html

‘A tapestry is made by repeatedly weaving the horizontal (weft) threads over and under the vertical (warp) threads, then squishing (or tamping) those horizontal threads down so they are very close together, thus completely hiding the vertical threads from view.’

Tapestry is originally from Old French tapisserie, it means “to cover with heavy fabric, to carpet”. In the medieval period they were valued even more than painting, the more intricate were highly prized and sought after. Two of the most beautiful and incredibly intricate as examples of this now much underestimated art form are the 100m “Apocalypse Tapestry” (1377) and the mysterious suite of seven tapestries with the ‘AE’ monogram which comprise “Unicorn Tapestries” (1500). Even a tapestry of average quality can amaze us when we contemplate not only the intricately created image before us, but also astound us at both the patience and endurance of the creator. But pause for a moment and consider the back of this creation, that is, the “underside”. What might you find? It can appear to be a mass of contradictory and haphazard movements of thread. Overlapping and going in all manner of direction, it has very little of the cohesion and beauty of what you see on the ‘other side’. But that’s exactly what was required to create this astonishing impression in the first place. Life can be a bit like a tapestry at times. It might not always look good or appear to be going in the right directions, but it’s a splendid design in the making. For the community of believers the image of the Creator as the Potter comes to mind: “But now, O Lord, you are our Father; we are the clay, and you are our potter; we are all the work of your hand.” (Is. 64:8)

If we don’t let go of those darker dispositions

If we don’t let go of those darker dispositions, we can ourselves become that which has hurt us. That is, we can begin to associate too closely with our pain. Even to risk returning the same negativity that we receive, and so mirroring that very soul we were incompatible with in the first place. This is a form of transference. It remains one of the deepest flaws in the presentation of atheistic existentialism, to not see the other as a possibility for your restoration. Compare this against the teaching of Jesus Christ: “Love your neighbour as yourself” (Mk. 12:31). This concept of ‘self-love’, which is also vital in Buddhism, is “not be confused with narcissism or selfishness”, but as it has been expressed in the Udana of the Pali canon as an act of self-compassion which results in not hurting others; or as it has been elsewhere said, we are not punished for our anger, but by our anger. ‘Letting go’ makes us lighter. It makes it much easier for us to move, to not remain anchored in the wrong spaces. And to get on, with what Heidegger might say, our “unfinished business”.

We are always chasing that ‘elusive’ something

We are always chasing that ‘elusive’ something. And our obsessions or unreal expectations can lead us onto paths of self-destruction. This was one of the fundamental lessons behind what has been called “the great American novel”, Herman Melville’s Moby-Dick. Whether Captain Ahab was chasing after ‘god’ or he was simply ‘possessed’ by his own nightmares is not necessarily the point. The overriding message is that a ‘life purpose’ based on revenge or driven by pure animalistic instinct can only lead to destruction, not only for ourselves, but also for those who are “on board” with us. The history of nations, let alone those of individual examples, are replete with such ruinous conclusions.

“...all evil, to crazy Ahab, were visibly personified, and made practically assailable in Moby Dick. He piled upon the whale’s white hump the sum of all the general rage and hate felt by his whole race from Adam down; and then, as if his chest had been a mortar, he burst his hot heart’s shell upon it.” (Herman Melville)

Sometimes we can never wholly forget

Sometimes we can never wholly forget. This is only normal. We can grow to accept our history and be at peace with its providence. This comes with the knowledge our memories are here to stay. They will not be wiped away. We use them best we can, to become stronger and wiser in this test [Old French teste “an earthen vessel, especially a pot in which metals were tried”], as we plough on through, and deeper into the fields of life. I will sometimes catch myself thinking back to my ancestral home and to the days before my father died, when I was absent in New Zealand to miss him by a few hours. It is like Joyce who was desperate to leave Dublin but never could, Faulkner who mistakenly thought he could escape Lafayette County, or Sylvia Plath who would never break free from Winthrop. But we do not stay there, in those old neighbourhoods, for too long. We cannot, for invariably that would be to our own peril. There is also a lesson to be learnt from the Old Testament story of the wife of Lot who looked back to turn into a “pillar of salt” (Gen. 19:26). To be sure, we keep what is good from our old places, to then move on the best we can. For each one of us there is a time and place of restoration, this is where we come closer to our truest identity.  Sometimes it is in times and ways where we might least expect. The marks of pain like the signs of ageing on our body are what make us human. "Our days may come to seventy years, or eighty, if our strength endures; yet the best of them are but trouble and sorrow, for they quickly pass, and we fly away" (Ps. 90:10). The novelist Marie Bostwick has put it very well: “I don’t know what tomorrow will bring. None of us does. That’s why we get up and go on because, until forever comes, you can’t stay where you are.”

Degrees of distance diminishing and dissolving

In brass instruments the act of blowing by the instrument player makes the air in the tube vibrate and produce a sound. As the notes get higher and higher, they get closer and closer, for the air in the tube vibrates in smaller and smaller ‘packets’. Brother Raphael, who used to be  a lead trumpet player with a philharmonic “somewhere” [on account of their humility they never do tell you where], would explain such things to me as we would make the long trek down the mountain to the orchards. What he said in this instance made me think of the affection we share and experience in the company of our loved ones. The more time we spend with each other the closer we grow one into the other. Degrees of distance diminishing and dissolving. Individuality is not lost for each member is still master and remains in control of his or her own pitch and timbre. This proximity is what creates context and permits us to explore the dynamics of relationships. The French chemist Michel-Eugène Chevreul has demonstrated to us that the manner in which a colour is perceived is influenced by the other colours surrounding it. In the context of the Holy Trinity, theologians speak in terms of ‘perichoresis’ [or a “rotation”] as to the relationship and movement of the love of the three persons in the triune God:

"May the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you all."  (2 Cor. 13:14)

The Werri Beach Prayer

Gerringong, NSW, September 14th, 2019

“How long, Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me?” (Ps. 13:1)

Old Man in Prayer from Rembrandt

To what purpose this pain which rents the spirit

In those secret places which makes the bones throb

For what intent my Lord this dreadful brokenness

This deepest despair like the nightingale’s last song 

Like the final gasp of air from the second crucified thief

What caused You to turn Your face from your beseeching servant

From Your high place you see him fall onto his knees in the midday Sun

To cry unto the heavens ‘be merciful to me, Oh! Lord be merciful to me’

Even my tears you have taken away, I have none left, my eyes burn

They are scored by the sand which by Your command rises up to scrape my face

My soul laments this terrible desolation visited upon it for it has known

The divine sweetness of Your presence and the ineffable peace of Your holy places

‘My God, My God’

How will I survive this night when Your absence will break my heart

And deeper still in those unspoken places where the only infallible words

Ever spoken by the mortal mouth keep forever in the blood and marrow:

‘be merciful to me, Oh! Lord be merciful to me’.

We document the story, our autobiography

“There is a candle in your heart, ready to be kindled. There is a void in your soul, ready to be filled. You feel it, don’t you?” (Rumi)

“You cannot wander anywhere that will not aid you. Anything you can touch – God brought it into the classroom of your mind.” (Rabia Basra)

“What is a charitable heart? It is a heart that is burning with charity for the whole of creation…” (Saint Isaac the Syrian)

“The mystery of human existence lies not in just staying alive, but in finding something to live for.” (Fyodor Dostoevsky)

“I paint the way some people write their autobiography. The paintings, finished or not, are the pages of my journal, and as such they are valid. The future will choose the pages it prefers.” (Francoise Gilot)

“What, what am I to do with all of this life?” (Gwendolyn Brooks)

“We all have idols. Play like anyone you care about but try to be yourself while you’re doing so.” (B. B. King)

Things will not always go according to plan

Source: https://piccadillyinc.com/products/the-story-of-my-life/

Things will not always go according to plan or follow the schedule. Unpredictability does not only belong to chaos theory and to weather, but to everyday existence: the ‘big things’ like life and death, good and evil, love and hatred, health and sickness. Despite the super computers, natural human ability to forecast complex weather patterns is still critical, humbling news for machines capable of trillions of calculations per second. Small things can also go awry and sometimes even these apparently insignificant events can become reason for a greater story. Missing your train in the morning; or being given the wrong business card; or writing the incorrect address on a letter; or turning right instead of left. These can all become causes for the unexpected. Despite the planning and attention to detail the future is out of our control. Yet we readily deceive ourselves into believing otherwise, particularly given the advancements in our technological innovations. The reality is perhaps more challenging but far more positive and exciting. We do have some ‘control’ of that world which ultimately does matter: our ‘inner world’. That space within [the ‘inscape’ to paraphrase Gerard Manley Hopkins] which goes a long way to determining our uniqueness, and what we do, and who we become: “[t]he human heart is no small thing, for it can embrace so much.” (Origen)

Truth is the correspondence between language and reality

In simple words, for this is a huge subject, truth is the correspondence between language and reality, a practical definition which probably sits well with most.[1] Then what of truth in literature? How are we to understand metaphor, or poetry, or even myth for instance? Is there a better example of the evident stresses that this correspondence will often elicit than the battle over the exegesis of the biblical account of the creation in the Book of Genesis? What is the cognitive value of this universal story and what kind of truth is it meaning to convey? And what of the spiritual truths put in the mouth of the Starets Zossima by Dostoevsky in his masterpiece The Brothers Karamazov? Or how true is Plato’s famous “allegory of the cave”? An autobiography, a memoir, a life-journal, for example; to what extent are they both literature and science? And how long does a text or document maintain a stable and determinant meaning before the deconstructionists get to it and challenge its structures and propositions? These questions become especially problematic from the moment we make reference to scientific method. One way to arrive at some kind of real-life resolution is to think in terms of context [from Latin contextus, from con- ‘together’ + texere ‘to weave’]. Truth in whatever way we might define or understand it, is ultimately interwoven into and inseparable from life. Following in the spirit of the great storytellers, Sue Monk Kidd writes: “[s]tories have to be told or they die, and when they die, we can't remember who we are or why we're here.” Revelation and redemption invariably play an important part in how we mentally grasp the ‘story’ and in what ‘setting’ we locate it.

Providence or Coincidence

Providence is mostly connected to theological reflections and generally associated with divine purpose.[2] “Are not two sparrows sold for a cent? And yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father” (Matt. 10:29). Coincidence on the other hand is normally thought of in terms of luck, fate, or chance. In some other instances coincidence has been thought of in the context of meaningful decisions. Perhaps it is at that point when it ‘coincides’ with providence.[3] Ultimately, whatever our definitions, both are forces of influence which determine destiny. In the Homeric writings ‘destiny’ is more coincidence with providence connected to ‘divine intervention’.[4] Destiny is fate for Homer. It cannot be escaped. “And fate? No one alive has ever escaped it, neither brave man nor coward, I tell you— it’s born with us the day that we are born.” Divine intervention, however, can manipulate destiny even with the direct involvement of human agency. The legends of Achilles and Hector as illustrated in the Iliad are classic examples of destiny and divine intervention intertwined. What is it that drives us to understand something of these incomprehensible forces and to put a name to them? An insightful response can be found in Christos Tsiolkas’ Dead Europe. The protagonist, not irrelevantly a photographer, the young Greek-Australian Isaac, reflects in one place when asked to use his camera to document events of the past: “this desperate need to confirm the relevance of history…”. And so we are born into the world. We document the story, our autobiography [‘the account of our life’] as it unfolds, according to the opportunities we accept or dismiss. The love we share or withhold. All the time hoping that at the end of our days, we have been of some relevance.

It does not take much to strip us down to our base animal nature

It does not take much to strip us down to our base animal nature for our repertoire of the most beautiful songs and enlightening philosophies to turn into howls and screams. When our stomach is full, when we are not thirsty, when we live in a comfortable home and have good paying work, it is not difficult to act sophisticated and cultured. How refined would we be if there were ten of us fighting over one loaf of bread? Trying to outrun each other for a cup of cold water to quench our thirst? These thoughts are disturbing not only in the context of our hierarchical needs and natural instinct towards self-preservation, but also when ‘self-preservation’ leads to questions of motivation, self-defence and to punishment. It is shocking, too, to imagine that high culture and the cultivation of the Arts serve as no guarantee to the wisdom and compassion of the human spirit. The Nazis [and others before them and not a few afterwards in similar vein] would do their slaughtering during the day and in the evenings listen to classical music, write poetry, and read Goethe. We are only days, even hours or minutes away from being stripped from the personalities and personas we ideally choose to present ourselves to the world and according to which society rewards us. Self-awareness, to objectively evaluate ourselves, our character and feelings, will make some strong demands of us and oftentimes be a painful eye-opener. It can be a terrifying experience to stop and to listen to ourselves. To say when you have gone to your deepest places, to have found those things you would never want to have found, yes, all of it, that’s who I am. But it is this honest evaluation which also makes us capax dei: “capable of knowing God”. (Augustine)

Sometimes we have to look, nay search

Sometimes we have to look, nay search, for the light in places we might not normally want to look. Think for a moment of the response of the first community of believers to the vision of the brutalized and crucified Christ (Matt. 26:1-27:66). The gaze which normally precedes dogma is invariably more faithful to the reality of things. Difficult words and mind-boggling doctrines can often confuse and meddle with our initial revelation. The first bright illumination which inflamed our hearts and ran down our spines like a bolt of electricity. There is a holding place to most things that they might ripen and mature. Siddhartha Gotama and the prophet Daniel, Saint Isaac the Syrian and Jalaluddin Rumi, Rabia of Basra and Saint Symeon the New Theologian, Saint Francis of Assisi and Moses Mendelssohn, Meister Eckhart and Rabindranath Tagore, Dag Hammarskjöld and Saint Sophrony Sakharov are examples of those profound lights who looked deeper and beyond the margins of their prescribed canon. These souls to be sure remained faithful to their received tradition. The power of their witness is to be found in the unshakeable belief that every human being is of equal value and possessed of the same intrinsic possibilities. The list is a long one and includes meditative minds from every region and culture. In other fields of human endeavour where the “canonical boundaries” were tested, James Joyce did it with experimental literature; Pablo Picasso with Art; James Clerk Maxwell with physics; Ludwig Wittgenstein with his views on the purpose of philosophy; Frank Lloyd Wright with his architectural design; and Rosa Parks who says “No” to become the mother of the civil rights movement. And the great improvisers of music who did it with their blues in Mississippi and jazz in New Orleans. But all of this dialectical movement, the tension of the spirit with all of its divergent impulses, can come with a heavy cost and no small sacrifice, though surely it is worth the risk to be able to one day write: “…with the last ink in the pen I lived, each day I loved and lived.” (Michael Ondaatje)

Things are indeed different from up here

Somewhere over Yekaterinburg and Salekhard  

Altitude 36500 feet, Ground Speed 536 mph

Things are indeed different from up here. I do not mean the obvious, the physical perspective of being inside a ‘flying cigar’ with hundreds of strangers almost thirty-seven thousand feet above the earth. How often is it, that we are of one mind with people we have never met before. People of different races and colours and religions, men and women of different education, some virtuous and others corrupt, some in the prime of their lives and others nearer to their Maker than they might care to imagine. Yet with all these vagaries we are of the ‘one mind’. We all want to get somewhere and we all want to arrive there safely. The place which is calling us is love. We also call it home. Up here in space we are living for whatever the duration of our journey, as the saints do, when they come together in communio sanctorum. Is there a term for the ‘communion of travellers’? Fate would forever bind us in the unlikely event that this aeroplane drops from the sky, and it would not be with our dearest we would be spending the last and most truthful moments of our life. We would go to the other side in the company of hundreds of strangers all having hoped to make it safely home. If we could honestly recognize and live out this shared mortality, what differences we might see in the world. John Donne who especially prized this ‘inter-connectedness’ of humanity, has memorably written: “[n]o man is an island entire of itself…”. It is like the passage of time which none of us can escape, except to write on its pages our individual stories. And the eschatology we did battle with when nobody was watching.

[1] https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/truth/#pagetopright

[2] https://blogs.ancientfaith.com/glory2godforallthings/2018/01/24/god-god-providence/

[3] https://www.theatlantic.com/science/archive/2016/02/the-true-meaning-of-coincidences/463164/

[4] https://muse.jhu.edu/article/2579/summary