Be like the fox
– Wendell Berry (Manifesto: Mad Farmer Liberation Front)
who makes more tracks than necessary,
some in the wrong direction.
Practice resurrection.
Webster’s dictionary defines Manifesto as such: a written statement declaring publicly the intentions, motives, or views of its issuer.
Manifestos are all over the place. People of all stripes can find a manifesto that was written with them in mind; Women in Business, architect apprentices, and even for the passive aggressive. Some manifestos are dreary, droll, or toxic whose only functions are to name their superiority and who they exclude as the ‘other’. There was such an example of this in the news recently which will get no airtime here. But then there are those rare manifestos, a poetic offering of truth grounded in love that blink away the blind corporate stare. Take Wendell Berry’s ‘Manifesto: Mad Farmer Liberation Front’ for example…pointed, life-affirming and a nod towards the difficult work of becoming an esteemed ancestor.
I wish more folks would write manifestos like this. It helps give me a sense of what a person stands for or aspirations they hope to be measured by. Either way, I find the articulation of ‘intentions, motives, or views’ is a transparent step in the right direction. So I share mine in the lineage of Wendell Berry’s. This is the reasoning behind my manifesto, a move towards transparency in my intentions, motives and views. Perhaps this will inspire you to craft your own. And if you do, by all means to do so with enough cheeky humor and kindness to remind yourself and the reader that you fully own that you are but one fabric in the cosmic thrift store.
Never complete, always evolving, my manifesto entitled, Manifesto Contemplatio
I’ve seen the greatest religious minds of my generation* separate from their bodies and run to desert extremes.
Prophets of doom mix molotov cocktails with pride and certainty. Then fling their fear at you. Self-professed free spirits wash your windows with rose-colored bleach and promise a life without limitations. They all come a-calling and would appreciate your allegiance in word and deed, cash or credit.
Friends, take a subtle and dangerous turn…choose to be a human paradox. Duck out for a quiet smoke with Mystery. Map a new constellation in the night sky. Commune with the complex and expanding cosmos. The stars are humble, they won’t interrupt your speechless awe. For the nearest star has been waiting years with her light, to dazzle you tonight under a dark canopy. Before she dies out hear her whisper… darkness is the blackboard and the teacher^.
Be wary of bourgeois contemplatives who offer guidance on how to ride a camel through the eye of a needle. Avoid sounding too spiritual, it bruises your backbone. But do lift with your knees the best lines from the Bible for everyday banter.
Love the God of trees and tree trimmers (oh Lord, have mercy on us clear cutters). Foes of fields, mountains, and streams drop your weapons and turn your table grace towards brother wolf and sister moon. Take a knee to our planet’s hospitality and Praise water, sun, and holy grapes. A-men….
Address our ancestors; learn their songs. Adjust your eyes; see the ramshackle choir assemble. Attune your ears; hear the harmonious chant behind the chatter. The division of difference is overcome by bird song. Expand the shape of your song by breathing into it until breathes back into you.
Meet the dread of the world with your lust for God. Be two lovers entangled in deep contemplation in broad daylight. Embrace public displays of contemplation. Contemplation like this, amorizes the world.
Privilege feet on trails over wheels on asphalt. Walk your neighborhood with your beloved’s hand in yours, call that pilgrimage. Forgive all the foibles of the friends and neighbors you meet. Bring a long loving look to the world despite its shortcomings. Befriend that dastardly shadow on your heels before the sidewalk ends. May the only souvenir you take be a deep, deep breath.
Only a Zen Master can put toddlers to sleep. When your beloved, but feral kids^^, discard their pillows for a howl at the moon, enlightenment strikes.
If you find yourself in too small of a cosmic story, leave**. Find a different one. A story where this universe is teeming with meaning. And then, Cultivate an imagination up to the task of loving it all, from the inside out.
Contemplation is beyond you…seek its whereabouts despite yourself
Contemplation is abiding within us…let it burst out in laughter
Contemplation is arising all around…feel it brush your naked flesh
Raise yourself beyond words, down to the pure majesty of the Real itself*^
Look and see^*,
Look and see,
“Invoked or not invoked, God is present”***
* Inspired by Allen Gingsberg’s Howl opening lines
^ Inspired by Race & the Cosmos by Barbara Holmes. She shares her genius in every sentence.
^^ Inspired by the sage poet Chris Dombrowksi’s lovingly wild language about his kids
**Inspired by Goldilocks and the Three Dinosaurs by Mo Willems. The man takes the stale and gives it flavor.
*^Quote from Pierre Teilhard De Chardin’s ‘Mass on the World’
^* Inspired by Wendell Berry’s advice to his kids when they were small
***Words that were imprinted on Carl’s Jung archway
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