"I see my light come shining / From the west unto the east." - Dylan


Monday, October 14, 2013




Sacred Fire

"I am seated in the hearts of all."
Krishna
Bhagavad Gita, XV.15

It is time, once again, to undertake a good, old-fashioned, de-construction effort.  Sometimes by choice, other times by necessity, this is always beneficial regardless of conditions.  Like taking that old, inefficient fireplace apart brick by brick and rebuilding with fresh mortar, a new mantel and a solid hearth.  Winter winds seem to knife their way through old houses in countless ways, so if we take our time to re-construct carefully while it is still spring, everyone will be happy and warmed come next January.

The first piece of business is to remove the loose façade.  This is the stuff we see every day.  We get familiar and comfortable with some of these worn bricks, but that does not mean this façade will serve a long term purpose.  It is like this with religion.  If we place too much emphasis on the outer trappings of religion or are unwilling to question the rote tenants of religious dogma, these familiar worn-out bricks are not going to contain the fire when the cold winds of adversity or personal crisis begin to blow.  Indeed, there are beautiful cathedrals and synagogues and mosques and temples the world over.  There are wonderful liturgies, prayers, celebrations and rituals; too many to count, really.  But the main thing here is to be willing to view all these aspects as scaffolding – not the true edifice.  Scaffolding is temporary.  We need to disassemble the scaffolding once it has served its purpose.  The key word here is willingness.

Secondly, we have to scrape off all the fractured and dried-out bits of mortar.  The stuff sticking to the bricks has to come off as it is of no use for our re-built fireplace.  There is a crumbling mess on the floor in front of us so we must drop our closely held beliefs – scrape off all those teachings we learned as impressionable children.  They may have dried and cracked and become unstable so we have to do this work.  

Everything we were taught in Sunday school or Catechism class or in Hebrew class or at the Mosque or Temple should be removed, cherished as this material may be.  Stack these mortar-free bricks in the corner since we may use some of them later.  Don’t be worried.  Trust me, it’s only May.  We have plenty of time to build a solid fireplace and be ready for winter.  The key word here is trust.

Pry loose the mantle.  Work diligently at this since it is solidly attached.  Everyone loves a fireplace mantle and this is a good thing since it represents who we are to others.  We find a place for cherished things on a mantle – photographs, awards, timepieces – symbols of meaning and identification.  Now we are really getting close to the point of no return on our project.  We must remove the old platform which may have served us well.  This is frightening, difficult work.  But we want a solid new fireplace and we want our own beautiful mantel to express our individual lives upon.  We do not want to inherit someone else’s life.  We may find just the right size, shape and material for our re-modeling job at the Buddhist monastery or at a Self-Realization Fellowship hall.  We may be surprised to find that the Sufis have been waiting for us to claim that mantel, long-stored in the back of their meeting room.  The Quakers, the Catholics and the Baptists have very nice pieces, suitable for just the right fireplace.  The followers of Islam or the Torah, the adherents to Wicca or Taoism or Vedic scripture, the Native American tradition: all have wonderful platforms for building an authentic spiritual life upon.  A good mantel and the sacred symbols it upholds is an important aspect of our re-construction job.  It takes serious study and discernment to select the right one for us.  It takes practice and the seeking-out of good teachers.  It takes time and it takes work.  A mantle has weight and serves an important function.  Good thing we started early.  The key word here is work

Finally, we have to think about the hearth.  The place we come to for warmth and sustenance.  Is it merely a physical form?  We have to think carefully about this.  Is it material, visible, measureable?  Or are we talking about the essence of the hearth, the inner reality which gives meaning and purpose to the entire undertaking - the soul of the thing?  We have to come to a clear and unambiguous understanding of our soul versus our body; our true self versus our ego self.  The body is a suitable vehicle and the ego serves an important purpose, but it is our soul that is infinitely important.  The key concept here is clarity.

Now it is time to rest and reflect.  What am I doing?  It sure looks like an overwhelming mess of a project.  What is it that drives me in this direction?  Why do I have to have a fireplace at all?  Is this what makes me human?   Yes, I think, this need is within me as a natural part of me.  It may be hard to define or describe, but I can sense this search for the warmth of meaning and certainty inside me.  It is irrepressible, this attraction to holy fire.  To a very large extent, this is what makes me human and I am glad that I am in the middle of this so-called construction project.  I feel free and energized as I start to look around and examine with fresh eyes the materials and tools surrounding me.  I have the potential to build the perfect fireplace for my home.  It may not look like anyone else’s fireplace, but it will be solid and functional and will serve my soul well. 

As we sort through the pile of bricks we have reclaimed, and begin to select which bricks go where, we notice something new and surprising.  The bricks have been collected from diverse locations around the world!  We notice subtle differences as we compare the buff-tone bricks from eastern cultures or the red-earth bricks from Native American or African origin.  There are high-fire bricks from European traditions and beautiful, blue-tinted bricks from the Middle East.  As we turn each brick over in our hands and align the bricks for our new firebox and façade, we are struck by the similarities.  They have much in common with one another.  


Imprinted on bricks of all colors and composition are words and symbols depicting love, compassion for others, moral behavior, ethical standards, prayer and meditation techniques, worship and ritual suggestions, creation stories and the attributes of God.  Life, death, the soul’s journey – all these aspects and intended solutions to universal problems are found among the bricks.  The symbols and language may be different, but the intent and goal is the same if we look closely.  These are human responses to the soul’s eternal questions.  Regardless of the different shades and dissimilar shapes of these “bricks of religious traditions,” they can bond together in service to form a new and beautiful fireplace core.  It is a natural and human response to build a solid structure in this way.


We realize that the problem has been one of perspective all along.  Yes, the surface distinctions among religions focus on differences.  We have argued and killed one another over dogma and the insane belief that “our way” is exclusive and triumphant for centuries.  This level of ignorance is the breeding ground for fundamentalism and chaos.  The way through this is to understand the difference between exoteric (outer-focus) and esoteric (hidden, inner focus) teachings found in all great religious traditions.  So the mantel for our newly re-built fireplace should be wide and deep.

I have attended Catholic Mass and read much of the Christian mystics; I have danced and shared dhikr with the American Sufis; sat silently in Quaker Meeting rooms.  I practice Taoist moving meditation, regularly study the principles of Vedanta and enjoy meditation.  I have placed intentions into the sacred fire of a Zoroastrian-tradition dhuni; shared meals with Baptists, Buddhists and Bikers.  Some of my friends teach Kabbalah or practice Zazen.  I have come to learn through experience that within each religious tradition a vibrant expression of eternal truth burns brightly.  It is the same flame which warms us all.  At a certain level, there are no distinctions, merely our own imperfect way of seeing things.  And who among us has not simply closed their eyes and relaxed in front of a pleasing fire.  Most core teachings state that this is the most effective way: simply relax and look inward.  All seemingly complex and impossible problems can be de-constructed and re-assembled in the form of a solution in this fashion.

De-constructing our beliefs and practices and re-constructing our own inner fire-place is necessary for us to live conscious and fulfilled lives.  This work allows our souls to progress as we are warmed by the fire of divine presence in our everyday lives.

~~~



Sunday, October 13, 2013


Crouching Becky, Hidden Louise


Hot Becky crouched behind the rhododendron, turned and whispered to Famous Louise who was hiding near a sassafras bush, “Did you hear them boys talking about some sort of vault?  Is that what they said, a vault?  What the heck is that all about?   One minute they are making sense, talking about books and films and particle physics, and the next minute they’re cramming their faces full of pie and swilling bourbon.  What is it about men?  That tall one with a beard has been trying to tune his guitar all night.  Why, they don’t even know the words to one Johnny Cash song!”

“Yeah,” Louise added with a slight snarl, “and the one with the scraggly beard keeps falling asleep in his chair.  Ain’t too hard to look at, though.”  

“What about the quiet one?” Becky wondered aloud.  “He looks quite pleased with himself.  Has the look of a confirmed bachelor.  I hope some good woman comes along and knocks him right off his horse….show him a thing or two!”  

“Agree” added Louise, now intently eyeballing the quiet one for tattoos or other signs of wildness.  

“Them boys sure are some slim pickins,” Hot Becky said with a hint of reservation in her voice, “but a girl can’t be too choosy up here in this gorge.  Good thing it ain’t a full moon.”  

They shifted slowly in place as each began to collect their private, possibly impure, thoughts.  Suddenly, from the far perimeter of the fire-light, a tall, scraggly old coot intentionally cracked a twig to gain the girls’ attention without scaring them too much.  “What the….?” Hot Becky hissed, whirling around yet still holding to her quiet voice.  

“Don’t shoot!” the old weasel said in a strained whisper.  “Don’t shoot….those are my buddies.  We’re here on a mission.”  Louise just gave a stationary look and dropped her hand to her waist band, ever willing to let Lady Smith & Wesson do the talking.  

Old Weasel started to talk fast in a low whisper and worked hard to convince both Hot Becky and Famous Louise these young hombres they were spying on were not just some ordinary, love-‘em-and-leave-‘em, sloppy-slimy-egg-hatin’, moonshine-lovin’, pie-eaters.  “No ma’am,” he said in his most convincing, New York-by-way-of-Texas, North Carolina accent.  “Them boys is, every one of them, college educated.  Why, the big one there has a master’s degree and the other two is working real hard to earn graduate degrees themselves, believe-it-or-not.  Wouldn’t think it to look at ‘em at the moment, I know, I know - since they been drinkin’ a tad.  Maybe enjoyin’ a cigar, even.  But what you got here is a real tri-fecta, ladies.  Why, any one of them studs would be a good catch, except they is each spoken for in one way or another.”  The Weasel looked over at his three friends, cautiously hoping that no one was drooling, no one was itching their privates and no one was talking about liking Adele, forcryingoutloud.

Famous Louise relaxed the tension in her right arm.  Old Weasel’s heart began to beat once again, and he remembered he was alive because his toes hurt so damn much from the day’s big adventure.  Hot Becky did not seem convinced…actually, she seemed a bit flushed with excitement.  “Huh”, shrugged Louise.  “None of ‘em look too bright”, she went on.  Becky just licked her lips.

“Now, now, ladies”, said Weasel, talking nervously.  “Let me just fill you in and you can draw your own conclusions.  Then, if you still want to jump ‘em, tie ‘em up and make them watch while you dance nekked around the fire and then disappear into the night, that’s your call.  Just hear me out for a minute.”

Old Weasel went on to tell Hot Becky and Famous Louise a few stories of these brave adventurers.  He told them of their many feats of daring on rock walls from Carolina to Squamish.  He told them of the strength of their character and their faith.  He bragged about each of their fine qualities and of their love for the outdoors, their families and for one another.  He emphasized how much they loved rock climbing and how they trusted one another with their very lives, over and over, while they pursued their love of adventure.  

Just as he wrapped up his speech with how few degrees of separation there actually was between these illustrious climbers and Tom Waits himself, there came a loud belch from the vicinity of the three hombres.  Then another wicked belch came, ending in a terrible gurgle.  Laughter immediately arose from all three men.

Old Weasel froze; his best-ever ten minutes of fast talking now for naught.  Hot Becky looked at Famous Louise, their expressions blank.  “Women is fickle” Weasel thought to himself as he sensed the mood completely change.  He had to work fast.  “Uh, how ‘bout I show you where the snake bit me?” the Weasel said as he struggled to shift things in his favor, wily old bird that he was.  No dice.

Hot Becky, looking hotter than ever, and Famous Louise, looking so good you didn’t need a side of ice cream to go with her, stood up…turned…and strode intently toward the parking lot where their fancy car waited.  Old Weasel watched them go and hung his disappointed head for a moment, then turned and limped toward the campfire.

“In the vault...the three of ya!” he shouted.  “In the vault!”

He grinned, though, knowing his buddies had been saved from a semi-terrible fate.  They need not share the pie after all.