gethsemani thoughts posted

typed up the thoughts i had on my retreat this week. posted them. all eighteen of them. sorry for the overload. starts on 21 Aug with post titled "the beginning." ends on the 24 Aug with post titled "final entry." they need not be read in order.

off to take a bike ride in honor of my accident. here's hoping history chooses not to repeat itself.
Æ

Tunes: tremolo - we are the new black

twenty years ago today

home

exhausted. who knew a retreat could take so much out of you.

waking up at 3:15 didn't help. at least from a sleep standpoint.

LOTS to share. pages and pages of stuff. will sift through it later. here's hoping it's worth posting.

God is good. now if i can just get some sleep.

why is it i can never find my tape measure when i need it?

ah the eternal questions of existence...
Æ

Tunes: mitch hedberg - houses

final entry

Back in Ohio, at Cici’s Pizza – felt the need to carb up and soak up as much grease for as little money as possible. Yum.

I’ve decided one of the things want to begin doing, as strange as it may sound: I am fasting speeding. On the way to the abbey and on my return trip I decided to take it easy and actually go the speed limit the whole time. Now I don’t speed excessively – I usually keep it between 5-10 mph over. But the time saved isn’t worth my frustration level – or the well-being of Lorelai. And I certainly can’t afford a ticket at this point in my life. Or an accident. And as a bonus, my gas mileage has been outstanding on this trip.

But this is not why we fast. Yes, there are physical and monetary benefits. But more importantly, it will remind me not to be in such a hurry, to appreciate the journey and not focus so much on getting to the destination as fast as possible.

I’ve got a lot of work ahead of me. I wrote a lot these past few days. Over fifteen pages in my little Moleskine notebook, which might not seem much, except I write small enough to fit two lines on each normal line. 22lines per page, doubled… you do the math. I should have time tonight. And I’ll probably use that time to reflect a bit – still too close at this point.

Time for dessert, then off to the Grotto. Good to be home (almost). Æ

24 Aug 8:15 AM

Room is stripped, car is packed. All that remains is Br. Christian’s talk and quick stop by the gift shop to pick up some fudge and a calligraphy print of the Prayer of St. Francis for my wall. I broke my fast this morning by taking the Eucharist. God didn’t strike me dead, so I think I’m OK. Today is the feast of Bartholomew, one of those apostles I know little to nothing about. Perhaps I’ll stop up in the library before I leave – though I’m a bit anxious to get on the road. Not that I want to leave this place, but I know I must come down from the mountain – there’ll be no building of tabernacles here.

I overestimated how hungry I was at breakfast – I always think I need to make up for lost time. Now I’m a bit queasy – hopefully it will fade. I need to make fasting a regular part of my life – either on a consistent basis or by giving up a particular desire for a period of time. My study of the disciplines has shown me how necessary they are to life – and how lax I have been with them. One of my hopes for the new church is that we’ll focus on the disciplines, supporting one another in our efforts to seek out grace. I’m tired of just showing up and seeing what happens (Napoleon’s battle plan according to Casey on SportsNight) I must actively seek God with all my heart – only then will I be able to wait on His goodness.

_____________________________________

When asked why women are kept out of the abbey, Br. Christian said because they are the most wonderful thing in the world and it would be too easy to focus on them instead of Christ, that our desire to connect with the other would find its focus in the women standing across from us everyday. If you’ve given something up, you don’t set it before you to stare at it.

24 Aug 4:35 AM

After Vigils, I walked up the hill across from the Abbey to where the statue of St. Francis stands. At least I think it’s St. Francis – I’ve not been up there during the day. I wanted time to think under the stars and a silence you don’t find at other times of the day. My favorite constellation, Orion, was climbing out of the eastern horizon, locked in his eternal battle with Taurus. And there were the Pleiades, riding the bulls back. I wonder if any society will ever again paint their stories on the stars. Has our knowledge of the stars robbed them of their wonder, their ability to help us tell our stories? As I look at the twinkling sky, I am reminded that the light I see is thousands of years old, tens of thousands. And somehow that ancient light has reached my eye, triggered my thoughts. Amazing.

This morning reminds me of the opening of Our Town, as the Stage Manager sets the scene. The stars still up, a mist covering the hills, the sounds of day beginning – the roosters crow, the lowing of the cows, the distant crashes in the barns. It’s a peacefulness I rarely let my self experience.

While I sat on a dew-soaked chair beneath St. Francis, a bird landed behind me, singing its morning song. And I wished I knew what he was singing, what wisdom to impart, what beauty to reveal. I felt him singing only to me, for my benefit. I know the world revolves not around me, and yet there are moments where the world stops as if making sure I’m paying attention. This morning was one of those moments.

My God, I pray better to you by breathing,
I pray better to you by waking than by talking.

O God, my God, the night has values that day has never dreamed of.
T. M.

when i look up at the stars at night
what could i find beyond the light
a hundred million worlds that we ignore
who can restrain pleiades
or know the laws of heavenly's
how many times have we been wrong before

KX

23 Aug 8:00 PM

No clouds on the horizon to break up the sunset, which is sad, because you need them to make a sunset spectacular. Instead the sun hangs stagnant in the air, too bright to look at, too bright to watch its descent. Sometimes you need the clouds.

Or a good pair of sunglasses.

Funny idea (or at least I think it’s funny now. But I’ve not eaten for 24 hours so all bets are off). Since for this online dating thing I’m basically trying to sell myself, I thought maybe I should gather some testimonials, reach out to the plethora of female friends I have and have them say what’s good about me. I mean, they know better than I what women look for, so they could emphasize my true strengths instead of what I imagine my strengths are. Of course, I’ve never actually dated most of them, but the prospective buyers don’t need to know that.

Oh what a tangled web….

The sun looks now like the mushroom cloud of my youth, rising above the tree line, announcing the end of the world.

And now it’s gone and the world is safe once more. And all that remains are circles and half-circles burned on my retinas. And I am reminded of Cyrano’s words:

You know how, after looking at the sun,
One sees red suns everywhere – so, for hours
After the flood of sunshine that you are,
My eyes are blinded by your burning hair!

Yes, that is love.

A secret: I wrote the following on a slip of paper and slipped it in the cracks at the base of the stone cross on the hill that watched the sunset with me this week:

i seek Your kingdom
for therein lies the other
calling out my name

I hope, when I return (and I will return, though probably when it’s a little less buggy) to find that slip of paper – and to know by then who the other is.

Hope springs eternal.

As I turned to head back toward the Abbey, the sky was streaked with sherbet-shaded clouds. They’d been keeping their distance from the evening’s angry fireball.

And now I pray for sleep, so I may wake refreshed, ready to sing my final prayers here at Gethsemani. Lord, grant my body rest. Lord, grant my mind rest. Lord, grant my spirit rest. Lord, renew my strength. Æ

23 Aug 6:40 PM

I must have been quite the sight on my walk this afternoon with a baby-blue hand towel draped over my head to keep the sun from scorching my oh-so-ready-to-burn skin. But it was good to walk and listen. I’ve always done my best praying on the move – walking, bike riding, driving. The motion focuses me in a way sitting, kneeling or standing does not. I’d like to find a path through my neighborhood, to walk my prayers when I get home. Then I’ll need only to set aside the time.

I feel it could be an early night tonight – Compline, up the hill to watch the sunset, then to bed to sleep, perchance to dream. The plan is Vigils tomorrow, the Lauds and Mass, break my fast (if I haven’t already – the kitchen is open all the time), Terce, Brother Christian’s talk, then home again, home again jiggity jig jig. Should get me back to Cincy between noon and one, where I know my overgrown lawn awaits. Will probably run to Lowe’s first, to get a nut for my loose lawnmower wheel and stuff to hang my graciously donated hammock. Hopefully the lovely people at Lowe’s will help me figure out what I need.

Can you tell I am brain dead? My head aches from fasting and I find it hard to focus. I may not even write more after this. We’ll see how I feel.

The milk they serve in the dining room must be the same they use to make their cheese – same distinctive after taste.

When I start writing about after taste, it’s time for me to stop writing. Æ

23 Aug 3:20 PM

Remnants of an old gate stand stiffly here in the deep woods. Torn down for spite or for freedom I cannot tell. And what did this gate mark – I can see no buildings from where I stand. What did this gate hope to keep out? Or maybe keep in?

As with most wild spaces in America, there are signs of the uncaring – crushed beer cans in this instance. I’ll never understand how someone could stand surrounded by all this beauty and be calloused enough to casually leave your waste, tarnishing nature for all who come after you. I want to declare this part of our consumeristic society that sees things only as objects for our use and abuse. But I think the problem is deeper than that. We’ve grown arrogant, refusing to see our place in Nature, instead seeing it as a conquered foe. It’s why disasters like Katrina confound us so – it’s an uprising from an enemy we thought subdued.

Father, my body is hungry, weak and sore. My mind is unfocused. Fill my body with Your food, with Your strength, with your comfort. Clear my mind of all that is not You. This time I offer up to you – whisper your words to my heart. Lord, help me hear them.

23 Aug 2:30 PM

I fear my afternoon walk will be a hot one and thus a short one. But at least I’ll return ready for a nap, which my body craves right now.

I find myself disappointed with Willard’s book. Not that he’s making claims I disagree with – what he has to share is important and an excellent reminder. But it’s yet to challenge me, to call me upward, to reorient my heart toward Christ. Perhaps it’s because I’ve heard this call before and need only to recapture it.

I have appreciated his emphasis on effort, not earning. True, we cannot earn grace, but that does not mean we passively wait for it to arrive. We earnestly seek it wherever it may be found. I, in my journey, have been too willing to sit back and let God come to me. The same is true of my relationships – too firmly hoping the other will just happen into my life. We are called not just to “wait on the Lord” but to “seek first His kingdom.” You cannot seek by standing still – you must grab your pickaxe, your compass and your night goggles and search this wide world over.

And on that note, I walk. Æ

23 Aug 9:00 AM

A person is someone who must give all themselves to another person and who receives everything in return. – Brother Christian

To think I almost skipped Brother Christian’s talk. It fits so well with what I was writing about earlier – I want someone to give myself to, someone to receive from. I seek this, this definition of personhood, now through Christ – giving all of myself to Him, for He has given me all I am. And yet I desire this with another person as well. This does not diminish my relationship with Christ, but would amplify it, as other is in relationship with Him, too. The more love I give, the more I have to give. The danger here is focusing all my energy on finding the other to the detriment of my life with Christ. He must be primary. He must always come first. He must increase and I must decrease – not to nothingness, but to my proper place.

The Lilies

Hunting them, a man must sweat, bear
the whine of a mosquito in his ear
grow thirsty, tired, despair perhaps
of ever finding them, walk a long way.
He must give himself over to chance,
for they live beyond prediction.
He must give himself over to patience,
for they live beyond will. He must be led
along the hill as by a prayer.
If he finds them anywhere, he will find
a few, paired on their stalks,
at ease in the air as souls in bliss.
I found them here at first without hunting,
by grace, as all beauties are first found.
I have hunted and not found them here.
Found, unfound, they breathe their light
into the mind, year after year.

Wendell Berry

23 Aug 7:45 AM

Sleep eluded me again last night, at least until after Vigils, when I crashed hard for an hour or so. Thankfully I’d set the alarm, though there’s something not quite right waking here by electronic beep.

The mass today was for St. Rose of Lima, who exemplified sacrifice in all things. The common for today? Common for a virgin. I couldn’t help but smile.

The reading for Lauds again came from Song of Songs. I hesitate to read into this, but I can’t help but ponder its significance given relationships were one of the things I came to pray about.

Love is invincible facing danger and death.
Passion laughs at the terrors of hell.
The fire of love stops at nothing—
it sweeps everything before it.
Flood waters can't drown love,
torrents of rain can't put it out.
Love can't be bought, love can't be sold—
it's not to be found in the marketplace.

8:6-8 (The Message)

So does this mean I should eschew the marketplace, forget about finding love online? Hardly. I’m not looking to buy love, though I’m sure money will be involved. And while things are sold online, what I’m seeking is not.

This view of love, of passion, colors what I seek. If I can’t have this kind of love – laughing at the terrors of hell – then I’d rather have nothing.

The sweet, fragrant curves of your body,
the soft, spiced contours of your flesh
Invite me, and I come. I stay
until dawn breathes its light and night slips away.
You're beautiful from head to toe, my dear love,
beautiful beyond compare, absolutely flawless.

4:6-7

I’ve been told many times I’ve set my sights too high, place my standards out of reach. But this is love we’re talking about! Unquenchable passion! Why would you settle for anything less than your heart’s desire? I refuse to seek only to have, for it diminishes both. I seek not mere contentment, but ravishment. Not security but passion. Not just something, but everything, everything, everything. Æ

22 Aug 10:20 PM

Late evening walk to soak in the stars. Oh so many – an O how they swirled tonight, drawing all to a single point. And for the first time in years I saw the Milky Way weave its way across the sky.

How wonderful the darkness that bring the stars to light.

I searched the sky for falling stars, but they stood fast tonight, content in their spaces. I used to pray for them as signs, God’s writing across the sky that what I prayed for was deemed worthy. And I still hope to see them, though I know God’s still there no matter if they tumble.

Best to bed if I hope to make it to Vigils at 3:15AM. Will have to set the alarm since I cannot hear the bells. My fast has begun – Father, draw near to whisper the words I need to hear and grant me the sensitivity to listen…and to act. Æ

22 Aug 8:15 PM

I’ve always loved an August sunset, watching it slip through clouds to become a perfect circle of burning red refracted by the haze, backlighting the scattered clouds, changing them from light to dark. I cannot stare too long or else I’ll see its image all night, which might not be so bad. I’m reminded of summers twenty years ago now – coming home from church softball games, thinking about the girl who loved me and who I discovered I love too late. This Saturday marks the end of that fateful summer, where speed and recklessness conspired to crack my vertebrae, enwrapping me with a halo for 13 weeks. It doesn’t seem possible that day could be so distant, that so much time could pass. In some ways I will always be that sixteen-year-old boy, trying desperately to fall in love, electrified by the slightest touch, unsure of myself and what I have to offer. That fledgling relationship set a pattern I’ve yet to break – my cluelessness when it comes to women, my second-guessing, my insecurity – all those glorious traits that make the women swoon.

Nature break: a family of deer just scampered out of the woods to my left, above a freshly mown field resembling nothing so much as a labyrinth. I’m glad moments like that still hold wonder for me.

OK, break’s over.

Nothing’s more attractive than confidence, or so I’ve been told, and yet it’s the one thing I lack most. Intellectually, I know I have a lot to offer. But inside I’m still that sixteen-year-old, finding it hard to believe the girl everyone else wants is smitten with me.

Or wondering why the girl I like likes someone else. Æ

Woods

I part the out thrusting branches
and come in beneath
the blessed and the blessing trees.
Though I am silent
there is singing around me.
Thought I am dark
there is vision around me.
Though I am heavy
there is flight around me.

Wendell Berry

hail poetry

a tail of spectacular blue
whispers blithely between the cracks
shifting from shadow to sunlight
as it hides on the underside of cool stone
suddenly it reappears
sunning itself
and I cannot help but wonder
if I took hold of that blue
if you’d leave your beauty in my grasp
returning to the darkness amputated
to dream colors unimagined
for a tail you cannot see

I scarcely believe
I sat still so long as you
weaved your deadly threads

the evening’s fading
light beckons silent dreamers
climb to watch me fall

clouds transform the sun
a liquid jewel melting
over still treetops

22 Aug 4:20 PM

There’s a bird in the room next to mine. Perhaps it too is on a retreat, escaping from its own chaos, locking itself in a tiny space so different from the expanse of sky it normally inhabits. It looks to be dove – so often a sign of hope and of the Spirit's presence. A good omen, methinks. Æ

22 Aug 1:45 PM

The path is marked by those who have gone before. They’ve left behind remembrances – words to inspire, artifacts to catch one’s eye. Nothing points to them – we discover them on the periphery as we take in nature around us. A crèche set stands in a miniature cave in the side of the hill, waiting for tiny shepherds to arrive. A plaque announces this tree split once upon a time, only to realize its mistake and grow back into one. A glittering house sways peacefully above a painted stone proclaiming tranquility. It’s not why I came to the woods, but I’m thankful for their presence.

May we always remember that the church exists
To lead men to Christ in many and varied ways
But it is always the same Christ.

Dedication Stone, Garden of Gethsemani

All He asked was to watch and pray while He went on ahead to pour His heart out to the Father, to beg this cup be taken from Him, to find some other way, some other path. That was His will – but it was not the Father’s. How this moment must have prepared Him for the hours ahead – the betrayal, the agony, the abandonment.

What does Christ ask of me? Does he ask knowing I will fail? Did He know the disciples would fall asleep? He knew Judas was coming. But maybe He hoped for better from these three, those closest to him.

I do not doubt they tried. But the hour was late and they had shared a large supper. The spirit, the flesh and all that. And I know I would have joined them, leaning together, my mind and body overcome. And how sad I would have felt, knowing I’d let my Teacher down. Not once, but three times.

Forgive me for not being there for You, for letting my weakness keep me from watching and praying.

Help me remember your loneliness in the midst of mine own. Æ

Let me then withdraw all my love from scattered, vain things – the desire to be read and praised as a writer, to be a successful teacher praised by my students, or to live at ease in some beautiful place – and let me place everything in thee where it will take root and live instead of being spent in barrenness. T.M.

silence seeps into
our chaotic lives filling
Love’s empty spaces

come wait here to hear
the silence whispering hope
to listening hearts

22 Aug 9:16 AM

I attended mass today and found myself torn. I am confident I could take the elements and not violate God’s holiness. And yet, as a visitor, not recognized by the Catholic church, I simply folded my arms and received a blessing. I understand the theology and appreciate the sanctity of the Eucharist for Catholics. But I couldn’t help feeling less than, excluded, unworthy. I, too, wanted to come to the table, to take in remembrance, to take of the Body and Blood. And who are they to proclaim me unfit, not a true member of the Body of Christ?

I refrained out of respect for their beliefs, but at what cost? I seek only to be united with Christ, to experience Him, to have his grace focused on me. And while the blessing was appreciated, I missed the Meal.

Strangely enough, one of the prayer cards available at their welcome center had these words from Merton:

“We will never fully appreciate the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist until we see the ultimate connection that exists between the mystery of the Holy Eucharist and the mystery of the Church, the Body of Christ.”

I’ll have to ponder this mystery some more. Æ

22 Aug 8:00 AM

I cannot hear the bells from my room, which seems odd. Probably because I have two fans going. Next time I’ll get a room on the other side of the hall.

No sleep last night, but vivid dreams (yes, I realize that’s contradictory). I meant to write them down as I remembered them, but could not find the strength to get out of bed (read: lazy). The one I do remember was quite abstract – there were multi-colored soap bubbles, fragile worlds floating. Each one represented a person’s life; entire lifetimes filled each filmy sphere. Every now and then the bubbles would collide, trying to assimilate all that was within them into a new, larger sphere. Sometimes it worked and was beautiful. Sometimes the added weight caused the bubble to sink. And sometimes the bubbles simply bounced off one another and floated away. There seemed no rhyme or reason – you had to collide and take your chances.

No doubt where my mind is.

Couple of thoughts – as I waited for the stars last night, I used the fading light to read the introduction to Merton’s Dialogues with Silence. For those not familiar, Gethsemani is where Merton lived, so I thought it appropriate to bring with me. One of the quotes struck a chord that has continued in prayers this morning:

The true contemplative, is not one who prepares his mind for a particular message that he wants or expects to hear, but is one who remains empty because he knows that he can never expect to anticipate the words that will transform his darkness into light. He does not even anticipate a special kind of transformation. He does not demand light instead of darkness. He waits on the Word of God in silence, and, when he is “answered,” it is not so much by a word that bursts into his silence, it is by his silence itself, suddenly, inexplicably revealing itself to him as a word of great power, full of the voice of God.

Then this morning at Lauds, we sang Psalm 38 and one of the verses why do we wait when God is all that we need?

“And now, Lord, what is there to wait for?
In you rests all my hope.”

We also read from Song of Songs, but that’s a discussion for another time….

I did come here with an agenda – what I wanted God to show me, to make clear. But I see now I need only to allow His silence to speak what He wants me to hear – now what I want me to hear. I still will lay those at His feet this week, but will open up to hear what else he might say to me.

Looks like the sun is finally scattering the morning fog. Time to go listen to some words of wisdom from one of the monks. Æ

21 Aug 8:15 PM

I sit on a hill across from Gethsemani, watching Brother Son traipse through the clouds, heading toward the horizon. There’s a peacefulness here, broken only by the occasional car moaning down Rt. 247. A summer haze coats the land. Two fellow retreatants wander down a road toward some distant woods a good distance from the abbey. I’ll get there myself before my time here is gone. But tonight is for stillness.

I can already feel the rhythm of my life slowing down, meandering where it used to scurry, patient instead of anxious, peaceful instead of worried. It’s a Wendell Berry scene, complete with abandoned barns, stalking cats, mirthful crickets and distant barks. If only the cars would stop driving by.

I easily see myself living this life – the daily prayers, the singing, the life of silence and solitude, waking every morning with no agenda but to worship my Father. And I know the journey is to seek that life in my own, to see the normal rhythms of my life as my worship, to seek, not the removal of distractions, but God hiding within them.

The suns final light just slipped behind the trees and soon the day will give way to the stars. I plan on staying here long enough to see the exchange.

I think one of the hardest things for me to give up were I to seek this lifestyle (and I’m not seriously considering it for those who might wonder), would be the company of women. Not the sexual side – I’ve gone this long, what’s another 36 years? – but actual friendship with the fairer sex. I’ve not had many deep male friendships, at least none as close as my female ones. I’ve naturally gravitated toward the feminine. I’m more easily annoyed by my male friends, probably because I more readily recognize in them the characteristics I despise about myself. Don’t get me wrong – it’s not that I loathe being a man and wish I were a woman. My list of reasons I’m glad I’m not a woman is infinitely longer than why I don’t like being a man. But my personality is far more feminine than masculine, at least as far as stereotypical traits go.

No stars yet. Methinks the haze is keeping them at bay for now.

One of my hopes for this week is to get a clear picture of what this new house church should look like. I have these vague ideas I’d like to see crystallize. The vision is to create a community using liturgy and tradition to shape that community, focusing on the disciplines to bind us together and set us loose on the world around us. I want to spend time reading Willard’s The Great Omission which I’ve brought with me. The Divine Conspiracy rocked my world what, eight years ago? Geesh. Here’s hoping the same happens again.

Light is fading and I think I’m going to lie down and watch the stars descend. The sky’s a smudged pastel and I’m craving the darkness. Night. Æ

waiting for a star
brilliantly flinging itself
across the darkness

the beginning

SnS, outside Georgetown, KY. On way down to Gethsemani for some solitude and getting away before the chaos begins again. Looking forward to being disconnected for a bit, seeking and hopefully finding a different rhythm this week. I’m also seeking direction on specific areas of my life – church and relationships for sure, others as God speaks to me. Ample time will be set aside for listening. And hopefully for writing. Already forgot to bring a larger notebook and, more importantly, a fan. Website said they provided them there – there’s hoping it’s true.

I’m not quite ready to let summer go just yet, but I feel the approaching shift toward autumn and my heart is happy and sad. Summer began, as it often does, with me knee-deep in hope. Love seemed to dance on the horizon and I envisioned warm nights spent discovering another’s depths. Alas, ‘twas not to be. And then unrequited love appeared again with me as the unrequiter. And I would have felt worse had I not been on the other side more times than I can count. Now there’s two weeks left and life is the same as it ever was. Yet I’ve not left hope behind and I find myself willing to take a new step, abandon preconceptions in hopes of discovering love hiding among the ones and zeroes.

But I have more pressing concerns. God called me to help birth a new church and so I seek to know His desire for this new adventure. I have inklings, but I want to know they’re His as well. And I’m praying He’ll draw others. So I wait, something I’ve had lots of practice with, though I’m not convinced I’m still very good at it.

Time to hit the road again. More later. Æ

to gethsemani

My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going.

I do not see the road ahead of me.

I cannot know for certain where it will end.

Nor do I really know myself.

And the fact that I think that I am following your will

does not mean that I am actually doing so.

But I believe that the desire to please you, does, in fact, please you.

And I hope that I have that desire in all that I am doing.

I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire.

And I know that if I do this, you will lead me by the right road

though I may know nothing about it.

Therefore I will trust you always

though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death.

I will not fear, for you are ever with me,

and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.

--Thomas Merton