FootprintsintheWind.com

Faith based solely on dependence
is not faith
but using G-d as a tool
or self as no self;
it is fraud
and lying to G-d.

:- Doug.

G-d is to be discovered:
Explore! Explore! Explore!

:- Doug.

To my good friends–

About Fowler’s Stages of Faith: wondering if indeed these could more efficiently and accurately be understood or comprehended as stages of relationship. Where do Buber and Fowler meet? 1. Family that simply is, primal others, no differentiation. 2. Those like us, the start of separation, the forming of It. 3. Groups within which I operate, a collective of Its. 4. Self chosen norms and insights, or rejected ones, groups which cohere to that, feed that, a full It-ness. 5. Ideas and symbols rejoined, mystery, re-enchantment, touching other groups, the beginnings of Thou-ness. 6. Love become oneness, identification with the species, love of being, Thou experienced as united with one’s self. 7. (ddg addition from current thinking:) Service, love in action, love lived, seeing the other as one to meet, to interact with, to turn to, to change me. I like that. It is important in the growth of my understanding and growth.

:- Doug.

I am a mystery to myself and to others. Others are a mystery to me. We are each mysteries that grow as we grow. We are rays of the eternal and efinite mystery–the enigma that is out of time, out of limits, beyond bounds. (Looks like efinite is a word I had to find–or that found me–and not many have used it, if any. It simply needed to be: out of the limited.)

This fits with the wind that I am, too. Wind is always a mystery. We do not know where it comes from or where it goes, or whom it will choose to embrace and caress–but we know it will touch us all. The mysterious wind. Not a title to hold, for we cannot hold a mystery. Simply a descriptive.

Mystery: we cannot have life all figured out. I would not want to: how boring! Meet it new each day. See what wonders are brought forth continually for us. Mystery, my friend. Another name for G-d. O G-d of a thousand names, none of which name you, none of which delimit you, all of which inform us and expand our understanding of you! When shall we begin to touch you? What life we could have! Engage! Meet! Sacrifice–self, which means to today’s humans, sacrifice your plans, control, best thoughts–and see what more comes up for you.

:- Doug.

O Lord your joy is so large!
And I–unlimited–too small to contain it!

:- Doug.

We cannot live all our day in mystery
we must cut off a piece
and make it into a tool, or food, or work
we must try to define and limit ourselves
to manipulate our lives
else our minds would break, and we
would…what? Seep out?
But always remember what we said at the start–
cut off a piece.

:- Doug.

Birth is in questions
death in answers
What does it mean that my life
is questions?
How much larger is life, that Thou
are question?

:- Doug.

Be my mystery
Be my lovely mystery
Shh: Seek not for words
It is too precious to hold

:- Doug.

I am mystery
Is not the world and each one in it mystery?
Can I allow myself an enigma to be?
Can I enjoy being my mystery, pointing
others to the savory strangeness about us,
unanswerable questions when we want clarity, simplicity?
I must, for the strangeness addresses each of us
by name.

:- Doug.

I am wind of the wind,
breeze off the hurricane,
tornado and whisper,
caress and force,
gale, gust and twining.

:- Doug.

To our good friends–

Be the wind, not the flame: we talk a lot about flames and fire and exploding; I talk a lot about them. It is perhaps more fruitful to be the wind, blowing, whispering around the flames, feeding them, wrapping around people’s arms and legs and hearts and heads, beckoning to them, enticing them with aromas from all over, fanning the flames, blowing through their hair, than to be the fire. The wind destroys and the wind fills the sails; the wind touches and lifts the eyes; the wind rages and lowers the eyes; the wind caresses and the wind rebuffs; the wind chills to the bone and warms the heart. I like being in the wind and being the wind.

Stammering: it is my lot perhaps not to have the right words at all times, or especially when I want them. Sometimes I make sense, sometimes I blabber incoherently: but who is to tell whether it is sense or not, and in what sense? It is helpful just to love and to stir. Someone may turn. Take no thought for your words or the morrow: these things will be provided in the wind, the breath of G-d. So open my mouth that conversation may begin; trust the people; trust G-d to make good the promise of conversation. What are the promises? Persons brought forth, worlds changed, people come together, we see and act.

:- Doug.

Distracted speech
disconnected, reaching out
for what I want to say
missing
still trying
the One loves this
more than risking nothing.

:- Doug.

Be the wind
mixing with the fire
touching, inviting, whispering

:- Doug.

All reality is shared; no one person appropriates nor can appropriate reality. In this is our strength, for in the meeting of persons we can have a larger reality. Turn to one another, meet, with your whole being, continually approaching, touching.

:- Doug.

The real meeting is meeting of life, of destiny, of G-d.

:- Doug.

Who are your teachers? Who are your teachers today?

:- Doug.

To my good friends–

Last night was the closing circle. The last man to speak was an ex-Marine, rugged, silent. He passed the stick to me without speaking–and then withdrew it with a grin. We came in here as many, he said, “now we are one.”

One man said we were tired, “but it is a good tired.” That is perhaps something else we can promise people–you will be tired, drained, but it will be a good tired.

In the closing circle, there was also talk of coming together, of hearing and meeting each other for the first time after so many years of brief meetings in coffee hour after church. This was an OST on the theme “How then shall we serve?” in my home church. The subtitle was “Where we invent, rally support for, and choose our service projects for this year.” Lutherans are not known for being aggressive in the service arena.

It was a good event. Much got started, many promises were made, some will inevitably not be kept. I felt the energy was down from the night before… yet there were groups who clearly did not feel it was over because they went on meeting well past the appointed time, and came back to each other informally. Still, I was feeling let down by it. Why?

Perhaps it was because of the sadness of the end coming, the end of this time of meeting. Perhaps it was because I was tired, exhausted. Perhaps it was because I was not part of the rich conversations, a rowboat moored to a far off island, hearing only the echo of random syllables across the water. Perhaps it was because I knew so much more was possible.

And so I must continue to invite, to open spaces.

The questions I asked people to address in the closing circle were: How (not what) did we learn? Who are we now?

We had probably 30 people in all attend this 4 day event, and we averaged around 23 each evening. The fourth evening is tonight and I expect a drop off as we head into actual work projects. The sessions were from 6:00 pm to 8:30 pm, Sunday through Wednesday evenings.

One of those projects is painting the walls of the fellowship hall. This I see as the hallmark of this gathering. It was proposed the first evening, and had a great deal of enthusiasm around it. The lady who said “You know, what I’d like to see is…” had to be encouraged by several others from all around the room to post this topic. Then the excitement was in the room! This was a highly symbolic decision to be taken–and carried out. The room had not been painted since the building was built 26 years ago. We had felt locked into the colors chosen decades ago by our architect. Now we are breaking loose, showing ourselves that we can do the impossible. By Tuesday evening ladders and drop cloths were in the room, and about half the edges had already been painted, meaning there was now no turning back.

There were 5 or 6 topics posted for Sunday evening, and 4 sessions held; 7 or 8 proposed for Monday, and 6 held; and 6 proposed on Tuesday and 5 sessions held. After that we reopened the space for action planning and two projects were posted. Three sessions were held! Tuesday evening there was an evening long butterfly conversation by two gentlemen who were not members of the congregation, but others butter-flew around them and one of them reported rich conversations in the process. The book of proceedings had 15 reports. That is interesting to me because when we came into Tuesday only 6 reports had been turned in. Several people took turns entering reports into the computer for others and the job was done. We put the reports into the copier, pushed the button, and walked off to the closing circle. When we were done, we had copies for everybody, and three of us stapled and handed them out.

The committee provided baby-sitting, rides for those who needed them, and food, all without cost or baskets for donations.

There were no tears in the closing circle and I wonder about that. They were perhaps not ready to open that much space. Whatever happens, whoever comes, when it’s not over….

:- Doug.

Blur your eyes
and see what’s real.

:- Doug.

Our freedom to choose is between meeting and not meeting; mostly we choose to not meet. Still we crave meeting, we create so many opportunities, which we then flee.

:- Doug.

I am not sure if it is even possible to explain conversation to people: we are left only to meet. We must speak to each other out of meeting, and be ready to be surprised when meeting happens.

:-Doug.

I have seen a couple of things in Buber in the last few days that I had not noticed before. On page 42 of I and Thou he says that this life, this spirit “continually approaches and touches them.” It is active, it continues all the time. On page 51 he says it another way: “The spirit is truly ‘in its own realm’ if it can confront the world that is unlocked to it, give itself to this world, and in its relation save both itself and the world.” It is in the continual confronting that the world becomes unlocked to the Thou. It says that our job is to sigh if we must and then keep approaching, touching, confronting, opening our very being to being approached, touched and confronted. We need to be there, inviting touch.

:- Doug.

Last evening, Day Two of the OST at our church, leads me to this reflection:

Still there is a disbelief that we really are the church. This is the core of what is happening here, and what will be happening. The core is conversation. S asked who will arrange the funding? The only answer is, you are in charge. If it happens or it does not happen, you were in charge. Perhaps here is the point for Rumi’s poem about the plow in the field.

The message to me is plain: if you find yourself saying “The church should do this,” remember, you are the church. You can make it happen. Not just in the far off future. Now.

So what really has been going on? Who are we now? We are people who know we can change things, and people who can change. This is what it means to be born again: to be born again each day, to see what plow needs our shoulder today, and to become a new person, from the heart out. We are seeing the light that G-d put inside each one of us–not just in ourselves, but in the others in this room and those who meet here on Sunday.

Who are we now? We are never, and can never be, the same persons we were yesterday, especially when we meet, truly meet, each other as persons, as Thous and not Its. Then the other person’s spark ignites our own and the old dies to make room for the new to be born. It happens everyday. It is as normal as life and as unusual as people actually living life.

:- Doug.

To my good friends–

During evening news at an OST last night, one man said something to the effect of, “We’re not just talking, we’re… discussing!” Yeah, I know what he means.

What I take him to be saying is we are actually about the planning in earnest, the taking of first steps of action. It is the difference between theory and the birthing of practice. This looks entirely different.

:- Doug.