What one sees is not always what one seeks.
And what one seeks is not always what one says.
And what one says is not always what one starts.
It’s okay, there’s no difference between what
I didn’t see yesterday and what landed itself full upright
in today’s path, muse-appointed.
There are the moments when, at a
full stride, forehead high and strong,
come words and stories, notes and beams,
high-stepping toes, pointed at heaven;
brushstrokes for love or anger, life or less –
those are the boldest strokes, the highest notes,
the brightest steps…
The sound of music is good wherever notes
find you. Let it be your symphony.
The initial reticence I felt as I warmed a car seat for twelve hours – with all the attendant over-thinking to which I’m already prone – promptly unravelled upon arrival. My penchant for wow-factor uniqueness finds a backseat in favour of the welcome mat of other faith-commoners; like-minded, thirsty-souled, vocationally-curious individuals more like me than I care to admit. It would prove to be one of the most significant weeks of my personal and professional life.
Since God loves the twist-in-the-tale, this mystic-philosopher-poet-dreamer-romantic-idealist-non-pragmatist is ripe to meet the vacuum at the shallow end of his soul. In company with fellow travellers of the Way, I come up wanting every time, albeit with a blossoming knowledge that “all manner of thing shall be well” (Julian of Norwich, Showings).
Staying true to my “via negativa” modus operandi, the most significant gleanings from the week are found in what I don’t want to be about; who I don’t want to be. I’ve been in professional ministry long enough to enjoy a few tricks of the trade sufficient to dazzle and woo – successfully limping through that ministry for many years. It isn’t the material so much as the context for it. Many words are spoken, good ones. But, it is parsing those same words with other colleagues that distills the broadest reality. It makes for a week of living object lessons of what’s missing most in my experience: the mutuality of friendship, the deeper blessing of stability and sobriety, and a renewed commitment to monastic spirituality: ora et labora – prayer and work.
The intentionality of connection and outward motion is a challenge for a poster-boy Enneagram 4 (The Individualist), INFP (Meyers-Briggs), who loves passive-aggressive self-pity. If seeking a life more patterned after historic saints is what I seek, these ones prove just as good; perhaps better given their physical presence in the room. Proximity makes immediate the holy danger of accountability in the Jesus Way.
Through many words rich with advice and good counsel, it is the relentless voice of God that most unsettles me. God impresses only a few simple things, repeatedly. Repeatedly. Re….It is those things that spin around my head and to which I now turn.
* * * * *
I am twice adopted. In biological terms, this means effectively that I am riddled with fear – of risk, of invalidation, of abandonment, of failure – of success. Pursuant to this is a terrible sense of boundaries, which to one such as I, are not an end, but a means to it.
I suffer from GAD, (Generalized Anxiety Disorder), ADD (Attention Deficit Disorder), mild OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder), and CGEODD (Can’t Get Enough of Disorders Disorder). I live in a veritable sea of worry, and panic, and the over-thinking commensurate thereof.
I’m a recovering alcoholic. Given the first two points, this should come as little surprise.
I have mountains of unresolved pain, grief, and guilt. I grieve poorly.
I am a mystic-contemplative in a culture, drunk on self-important pragmatism, that eats such ones for lunch.
I’m a gifted musician, writer, poet, and liturgist. With these gifts, I’ve been blessed to draw others with me into the shimmering thin places that life can truly be.
I have a deeply intuitive, imaginative spirituality; an abundantly creative orthopraxis, so to speak.
I’m gifted in interpersonal conflict resolution – ironic, given my depth of hatred for the same.
I’m a gifted teacher and group facilitator.
I’m a culture and bridge-builder, finding ways for diverse segments of the church to envision a better way to walk the Way.
I’m compassionate and like to hear travel tales of other sojourners.
I’m very funny. No, really.
I’m a handsome, irresistibly debonair, man-about-town simply fun to be around.
Best of all, with much hard work and prayer, I’ve finally been gifted with self-forgetful humility (superglue tongue to cheek here).
A Rule of Life will, for me, bridge these two lists.