4/30/20
Bill McKibben speaking plainly and truthfully to the American public on the empty pockets of our culture…
“Americans, if we tell the truth, have been “social distancing” for decades now, retreating ever further behind the phalanx of screens that now dominate our lives. Perhaps this new, mandatory regime will wake us up from that particular enchantment, and when we’re released from detention we’ll find ourselves tending towards a new gregariousness. This, of course, would be a good thing for many reasons, including environmental ones: if there’s one thing that might deflect us from our current ruinous climate course, it would be discovering that we liked hanging out with our neighbors at least as much as we liked buying stuff. One can hope.” (h/t to Mark)
Do read the whole article here.
4/29/20
“Of all ridiculous things the most ridiculous seems to me, to be busy.” — Soren Kierkegaard
I am finding this to be truer every day. The busyness that is actually wastefulness is starting to carry a stench. Take a whiff and see if you can locate where any useless busyness is growing fungus in your life? (I say this as a parent, so I am well aware and in solidarity with those of you whose busyness with children is a non-negotiable.) The busyness I speak of is the quick email check or news headlines in you have a spare minute. Pay attention to what busyness gives you life and what sucks your lifeblood like a 1950s vampire.
4/28/20
I am reading Walden again and find myself back in Thoreau’s woods. His search is my search; the pursuit of freedom and communion by way of contemplation and simplicity. We come at it from different angles in separate centuries, and still I feel a kinship with him. A few weeks back (or was it just yesterday?) this piece, “Lessons in Constructive Solitude from Thoreau” (h/t Andrew) hit me in the nose and watered my eyes.
In his view, purposeful solitude and justice-minded community were codependent, the source of long-term social health. He knew what his view was up against: among other things, America’s antsy addiction to distraction and its led-by-the-nose, corporation-fed faith in utopian technology.
The opening statement echoes of Christian monastic perspective on solitude and community. This web of relationships to self, other, and Divine sticks across all contemplative traditions. Too often this web is trap we stick to without forethought or attention. Let’s change that. May this moment be a time of discernment of our relationship to the communities we build, put up with, and resist. A time to reconsider solitude as a gateway to depth, not a punishment for misdeeds.
4/27/20
The sixth installment of the weekly Contemplify NonRequired Practice List (Quarantine Edition #6) was put on the back wall of the internet this morning. If it hasn’t been confiscated or defaced, you can read it here.
4/26/20
This is a lush story. Cyrus Habib is a rising political star who is tossing his keys to the city to the next ambitious contender so he can follow his contemplative call to join the Jesuits. This theme of listening to the call from within appears to be the a rudder steering Contemplify in these choppy waters of late. Read his story here.
4/25/20
There is a practice that throws its origins all the way back to the earliest Christian contemplatives. That practice is vigilance; the purposeful directing of one’s attention to reality. When a person habituates to surface comforts they fall asleep. Think of the disciples at the Transfiguration. Think of the world leaders who scoffed at COVID19 impacting their country. Think of the pastors who kept their doors open instead of looking for creative alternatives for being in communion. This quarantine or cocooning is not a disruption to your lifestyle, it is an invitation to see reality.
Take stock of where the practice of the vigilance is needed in your unique life situation? Stay awake, be vigilant, be in solidarity with those who are being ravaged by this disease.
4/24/20
Holding folks from all walks of reality in my heart these days. I feel the pangs of parenthood in the pandemic right now for the obvious reason–I am a parent. This article, ‘Parents Are Not Alright‘ (h/t to Jeff), was a reminder of the systems at play, the values they represent, and how at times drop like grenades into culture. This moment is the time to take a beat and re-imagine how we live, love, and do work together. Our economy is a mess and millions are unemployed and the focus is on reopening the marketplace without the forethought of who that marketplace is serving and whether the work is useful. Do read this piece, ‘Think This Pandemic Is Bad? We Have Another Crisis Coming‘ (NYT). I hope you are exercising your imaginations on how you might live, participate, and share from a place where you soul flashes it light for the good of all.
4/23/20
Some poems are meant for a pandemic. And some poems are meant for parents in a pandemic. And then some poems are meant for parents in a pandemic attempting to encourage a deep love for the world to their children. ‘Good Bones‘ by Maggie Smith is such a poem. (h/t to Tyler)
Life is short, though I keep this from my children.
‘Good Bones‘ by Maggie Smith
Life is short, and I’ve shortened mine
in a thousand delicious, ill-advised ways,
a thousand deliciously ill-advised ways
I’ll keep from my children. The world is at least
fifty percent terrible, and that’s a conservative
estimate, though I keep this from my children.
For every bird there is a stone thrown at a bird.
For every loved child, a child broken, bagged,
sunk in a lake. Life is short and the world
is at least half terrible, and for every kind
stranger, there is one who would break you,
though I keep this from my children. I am trying
to sell them the world. Any decent realtor,
walking you through a real shithole, chirps on
about good bones: This place could be beautiful,
right? You could make this place beautiful.
4/22/20
I stumbled across this icon of Mary in a park with my son on our morning stroll. Over the bend and around the bench and there she was in the middle of the park tucked inside of a tree. Seeing Mary welcome every passing critter and shadow that crossed her sightline, I was humbled by the artist and the memory of Mary’s fiat and fierce love in tragic times. May it be so for you too. May you stumble over a piece of hidden art crying out fiat and feel its fierce love sustaining you.
4/21/20
Have you read the poem ‘Pandemic‘ by Lynn Ungar? Sometimes the most striking poems are the ones you are currently living in. Please visit Ungar’s website to read ‘Pandemic‘. We need poets now more than ever.
4/20/20
The fifth installment of the weekly Contemplify NonRequired Practice List (Quarantine Edition #5) was cooked up with my eggs. And like my eggs was filling and a little runny. You can read it here if you accidentally composted the email with my egg shells.
4/19/20
On a Sunday morning I am grateful for my old pal Langhorne Slim to serenade me with this prayer of surrender…”love is the door, faith is the key”..during the uncertainty of this pandemic.
4/18/20
I am finding solace in returning to what I know. Watching the clouds without a weather forecast. Walking without a destination. A friend sent me this dharma talk by the Venerable Zen Master Thich Nhat Hahn. I was so smitten by this message of life, death, and resurrection that he shared with his sangha on Easter Sunday six years ago that I felt completely at home. The dharma touched me and moved me in remembrance of Christ. Watching clouds, walking, returning to what I know. (h/t Chris)
4/17/20
A decade and a half ago I worked in Yosemite National Park. It was spectacular to hike, fill vending machines, high-five, swim, and play cribbage in this little spot of perfection. The only problem was the overflow of mouthy tourists in the valley. My boss allowed me to work odd hours so I could ramble free and clear of the masses. I love people, but when our species herd together we get weird. I was pleased when I saw that Yosemite had cleared out the bipeds and the four-legged creatures had taken charge during this pandemic. The planet is regrouping while we are panicking. The stones and trees have been calling for us to wake up from our catatonic slumber for quite some time. My hope is that we take this note from Reality seriously, shape up, and take responsibility for how we are mistreating Mama Earth. This is what a sabbatical looks like for Yosemite and we humans have a lot to learn about sabbath. Watch the video below of Yosemite without people. (h/t Baratunde)
4/16/20
Oh get ready for some self-recommending contemplation. I released the first Contemplify podcast in about 5 months. It is a ramble on the joy of music when it joins your soul for cold one. It is called ‘Kitchen Music Society of Sorrow and Delight‘. I hope you’ll join this society, the fees are drinkable to keep the riff riff in and the contemplative hearts are light.
4/15/20
Good contemplatives, good news. Taizé, the international community in France known for their chants, equity, and incredibly fun name to say are broadcasting their prayer services live at 8:30 pm (Central European Time). Go to their Facebook page to tune in. If you are ethically opposed to Facebook, but want to participate…I feel your pain. (h/t to Gigi for sharing this)
4/14/20
I’ve deputized Henry David Thoreau my patron saint of this quarantine. Not just because it gave me an excuse to grow a gnarly beard in his honor, but the man was an expert at thriving while also social distancing. Rereading Walden under the confines of quarantine has sparked new thoughts. Sure, Thoreau talked with his pals and had supper at the houses of his friends and family, but he wrote a passage about the joy of having a conversation with a friend across Walden pond. That a conversation of such density could not be had any other way, for being close to each other would revoke the permit of intimacy. Today, may you have a conversation with a beloved today across a screen, driveway, the veil, or a pond, whatever your conditions allow. Don’t stick to the surface, listen to ol Davey Thoreau and embrace the distance as space for vulnerability.
4/13/20
The weekly Contemplify NonRequired Practice List (Quarantine Edition #4) was sent this morning with the New Mexican sun. You can read it here if you missed it or if you are the type to shield your emails from sunlight.
4/12/20
Happy Easter! May it be a celebration of peace and rejuvenation of our Christ-soaked world. The path of Lent brings us here to Easter. That cycle of life, death, and resurrection is held all at once in reverence and in the commonplace. Outside my window, I see life sprouting up in flowers that were not there a week ago or caterpillars in the fatness of their life completely oblivious to the transformation still waiting for them. Easter is a day where we celebrate the mystery of transformation spun by God’s handiwork. O Great Mystery.
I want to continue to highlight the work of Brie Stoner in this final ritual of her series “Holy Week with Kids”. Here is a snippet of the intro to the Easter Sunday ritual:
Sometimes there are lessons that need to be experienced somatically before they can be translated into meaning later on. Gathering in the darkness and cold year after year, watching expectantly for the first hints of light and warmth taught me something about resurrection—the communal path of courage through friction and letting go that leads to new life—that I want to pass on to the kids. Its not so much about faith in Jesus’ resurrection, but whether or not we believe that we too can pour ourselves out into becoming something entirely new… the communal body of Christ in this world.
Read the full piece on the Easter Sunday ritual here.
4/11/20
Another nod to my pal Brie. If you have kiddos at home or are looking for a perspective to draw new breath from during the Triduum, check out her series “Holy Week with Kids”. Holy Saturday is the day of waiting in the unknown. It is the befuddlement you feel post flight cancellation at Midway airport but with much direr consequences. Today is the day we sit in the confusion, disorder, and incompleteness. We walk the line of tension between dark hope and bright despair. Nothing makes sense anymore. What will happen if we fall? What will happen if I wait in pain and don’t run? Will Love have the final word? Here is a snippet of the intro to the Holy Saturday ritual:
Ladislaus Boros writes, “The best love stories end in death, and this is no accident. Love is, of course, and remains the triumph over death, but that is not because it abolishes death but because it is itself death. Only in death can we be exposed completely and without reserve.”
It is with these words that we observe the emptiness of Holy Saturday….toward the emptiness, the liminal, the in-between. Toward what love reveals in the darkest hour, for it is there that new life is sown…sown in our tears, our confusions, even anger. Saturday represents the fullness of grief, of darkness, of not seeing a happy or hopeful ending. Saturday represents the emptiness of contemplation: of surrendering even without seeing a clear outcome, of letting go completely to “what was” even before glimpsing“what could be”. On Saturday we imagine the descent into darkness, we turn toward the aching carving out of death and the anguish of being “betwixt” and between.
Read the full piece on the Holy Saturday ritual here.
4/10/20
My brilliant friend Brie Stoner has a solution to Holy Week in the cell of your own home. She crafted an artful five part series on how to celebrate Holy Week with your kids in the snugness of of you abode. I am little late on sharing this since Good Friday is just about to round the corner to Holy Saturday, but here is a snippet of the intro to the Good Friday ritual:
I begin with that massive clarification because when I observe Good Friday with the kids, we have a decidedly different focus: if yesterday was a ritual to help us understand the radical inclusive nature of love, tonight’s observance of the crucifixion is all about what that love requires: the radical trust of letting go.
Read the full piece on the Good Friday ritual here.
4/9/20
Reading poetry has been a balm for me. I tend to stay away from poets I should read or those engraved in the pantheon of impossible to understand without a highfalutin degree. I read the poetry that wakes me up. I know there are poets I am supposed to like because they got their street cred on pretentious avenue. Alas, I am not evolved enough I suppose to value their contribution. I hope that you have a poet or two that sing outside the bedroom window of your heart. If not, I recommend trying out the podcast ‘Poetry Off the Shelf‘ by the Poetry Foundation. It is an easy way to peruse a whole variety of poets to enlarge your days.
4/8/20
We lost John Prine yesterday to the coronavirus. It felt like Popeye died. Popeye can’t die, he’s Popeye! Prine held that larger-than-life songwriting gift in tandem with a Midwestern humility; mythical status and yet he also felt like he might be your next door neighbor. Each song and story relayed a flat-out “I am what I am”. Prine was a figure of understated strength, humor, and a wisdom tucked in his front shirt pocket. Music is sometimes the only balm for me and I have often reached for the kitchen music that John Prine played. If he was a common player on your stereo, I share your grief. If his songs never graced your ears before, I envy that you get to discover him for the first time. A lot of songs in his catalog could be shared at this time, I thought I would share the first one I recall ever hearing, ‘Spanish Pipedream’.
And “Lake Marie”…
4/7/20
Each and every person is holding a candle for their loved one’s well being as the corona virus amps up its game. Whatever community you may have your roots in, have you heard the numbers of infection and deaths related to the corana virus in communities of color? In many of these communities health care support was already lacking and the pandemic is revealing the human cost of this disinterest. Read the excerpt below from Ibram X. Kendi’s article ‘What the Racial Data Show‘…
“In Michigan, black Americans comprise 14.1 percent of the state population, but an ungodly 40 percent of coronavirus deaths. In Washtenaw County, home to Ann Arbor, 48 percent of residents hospitalized with the coronavirus are black, though black people make up only 11 percent of the county. In Illinois, the infection rate among black Americans is twice their percentage of the state population. In North Carolina’s Mecklenburg County, which includes Charlotte, black people comprise 32.9 percent of the residents, but 43.9 of the confirmed coronavirus cases, as of March 30. In Milwaukee, black Americans make up 26 percent of the county, but nearly half of the infections and a maddening 81 percent of deaths as of Friday….Sometimes racial data tell us something we don’t know. Other times we need racial data to confirm something we already seem to know.” Lord have mercy. Lord get us off our keysters (metaphorically speaking) to support our brothers and sisters. Read the whole article here.
4/6/20
The weekly Contemplify NonRequired Practice List (Quarantine Edition) was sent this morning at 6:15ish local time. You can read it here if you missed it or if you are the type to quarantine your emails.
4/5/20
Earth day is approaching. Given the times it seems like we are starting to recognize that our species needs one another more than we’ve been letting on these past few millennium. A benchmark of our species, Gary Nabhan, has been offering morsels of wisdom paired with concrete action these past few weeks and will continue to do so all the way up to the celebration of our 50th Earth Day. Read his work and heed the inspired action. Any chance I get to connect with Brother Coyote, I take it, and walk away a better man. Go here to follow his insights in the muck and dew of our times.
4/4/20
Happy weekend everybody. If you are still in the lucky camp of employment, enjoy the days of rest. And when Monday comes back around the corner do not get sucked into the productivity trap of quarantined times. It is rusty and dangerous in a pandemic. These are challenging times and a season of rapid and unpredictable change is already upon us. The wishing well of productivity is full, splash in your internal wellspring instead. Above all remember you are a human. Here is short snippet from ‘Why You Should Ignore All That Coronavirus-Inspired Productivity Pressure‘ By Aisha S. Ahmad,
“Now more than ever, we must abandon the performative and embrace the authentic. Our essential mental shifts require humility and patience. Focus on real internal change. These human transformations will be honest, raw, ugly, hopeful, frustrated, beautiful, and divine. And they will be slower than keener academics are used to. Be slow. Let this distract you. Let it change how you think and how you see the world. Because the world is our work. And so, may this tragedy tear down all our faulty assumptions and give us the courage of bold new ideas.” Hat tip to Lee, read full article here.
4/3/20
Music is the merriest companion. This song is gorgeous in lyric and performance. Sit back and let the light of this song wash over you. Melanie DeMore sets a new standard for how music can connect us and flow through us while we are keeping our distance from one another. DeMore performed with Julie Wolf on ‘Sending You Light’. (Hat tip to Cliff)
4/2/20
Good folks, another guided meditation to seat you in your heart in the daylight of the Beloved. From Fr. Adam Bucko…
“The method of prayer that we will practice today is called the ‘Jesus Prayer’, or the ‘The Prayer of the Name.’ In this practice, we simply repeat a short prayer phrase together, at first by whispering it together, and then in silence. One spiritual master said this about the Prayer of the Name: ‘Dear friend, your heart is a polished mirror. You must wipe it clean of the veil of dust that has gathered upon it, because it is destined to reflect the light of divine secrets.’ This practice can help us clean the dust of our hearts and begin to live in the remembrance of God.”
This meditation is based on teachings on prayer and includes materials from: St. Teresa of Avila, St. Faustina and Divine Mercy, St. Anselm, Henri Nouwen, and Al-Ghazâlî. Meditation guided by: Fr. Adam Bucko. Music director: Larry Tremsky. Soprano: Katrina Montagna.”
4/1/20
There is a writer who always challenges my thinking and presents ideas of love, community, and wholeness from what at first feels like a field beyond left. I am indebted to his work, it unveils my tired and preconditioned patterns. Charles Eisenstein shared this note before his most recent essay. You’ll find the essay linked at the bottom. For those up for the task, I think you will find it stimulating, confounding at times, and honoring the struggle of the Mystery of life.
“Hi everyone,
I’ve been holed up for two weeks, virtually ignoring everything else to write an essay on Covid-19. I’ve gone down every rabbit hole, metabolized dozens of conflicting viewpoints. Every time I thought I had a handle on it, I would get new information or the situation would change. I’ve plunged repeatedly into the dark pool of I-don’t-know. I’ve written and deleted whole sections. The result is a beast of an essay, 9000 words, that probably tries to do too much. Yet I also feel a tremendous sense of accomplishment. Whatever its flaws, and despite a lot of not knowing what’s true, something true has coalesced in it.
The title is The Coronation. I offer it to you with all my heart.
Charles”
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