– Jesus (in John 12.24-25)

‘We do not find our own center; it finds us. We do not think ourselves into new ways of living. We live ourselves into new ways of thinking. We collapse back into the Truth only when we surrender, when we are naked and free – which is probably not very often.’

– Richard Rohr, Everything Belongs.

for me, more often than not, life is a conundrum.

i like the word, the way it sounds and rhythmically rolls off my tongue (and not just because i’m a drummer, or because it is the name of the song that contains one of the greatest drum solos of all time by one of the most underrated drummers of all time). i like what it means (a paradoxical kind of riddle or situation). i even like how the concept frustrates me so often (and not because i’m some kind of glutton for intellectual punishment).

one of the great joys of my life came near the end of this lenten season, journeying through holy week not merely as the person in charge of making sure an environment was created for people to experience the Presence of the Divine, but actually feeling free enough to enter into the experience myself. as the week progressed towards the time when Jesus let go of life itself so that new life could be born, i found myself letting go of concerns and control and simply letting the Presence take me where i needed and longed to go. and in the process, i didn’t find the Center of my life. rather, it found me. again.

in moments where i was supposedly leading people into the Presence, i found myself being led into the Presence.

at times when i wanted to seize the moment and make the most of it, i found myself letting go and letting the Presence fill the space in ways i couldn’t have possibly imagined, let alone created.

in allowing the grain of wheat to fall into the ground and die, new life springs forth.

for me, more often than not, life is a conundrum.

and i guess that makes me a ‘conundrummer’.

i emerge from a season of transcendent experience such as this with a little clearer vision, a little sharper hearing, a little broader perspective, a little more space to live and move within. like snow in springtime, it’s unexpectedly beautiful.

until i encounter a perspective different than my own.

then, as quickly as the weather changes in missoula, and the bright, sunlit blue skies are crowded out by the drab grey of clouds and fog, so the new space i’m living and moving within becomes claustrophobically constricted. the breadth of perspective i experience narrows to the size of the eye of a needle. the multi-coloured mosaic of inclusivity i affirm and attempt to embody is reduced to a black-and-white starkness like squares on a checker board.

for all the ways that wisdom has come to me in the paradox of foolishness, i convince myself that how i see things is wisdom, and how any other vision is foolishness.

in the process of growing in knowledge by realizing how much i don’t know, i become that much more determined that what i do know is more ‘right’ than what others know.

as i have let go of the illusion of control and been released from that captivity to live in the freedom of openness, there’s just something i miss about the cage.

on the journey of dying to rise to newer life, and living into newer ways of thinking, i can’t seem to avoid falling into the paradoxical potholes along the way.

but such is life for a perpetual conundrummer.

i got into a discussion with a friend on my facebook page the other day regarding a writer who has been very insightful and controversial in the broader christian faith community. this writer is one of the people who has helped me to articulate some of the ways that my faith is evolving, and has been a catalyst for more than one experience of the Presence that has broadened and (hopefully) deepened my perspective on life and faith. my friend took issue with some of this writer’s theology, and all the openness and inclusivity i had felt towards humankind and creation as a whole was suddenly swallowed whole by a passion that became monstrous within me. i felt the desire, even the God-given calling, to articulate ‘correctly’ this writer’s theology and how it resonates with my own, and to point out how ‘wrong’ it is to discount other viewpoints in favour of your own.

i did this by discounting my friend’s viewpoint, pointing out how ‘wrong’ it was, and proclaiming how exclusively ‘right’ my inclusive viewpoint was as i rejected his viewpoint for being ‘wrong’.

the conundrummer strikes again. (sorry, chris.)

there is a lot of controversy spreading through the missoula community about a proposed city ordinance that would ensure that no one is discriminated against in regards to housing, employment, and public accommodations on the basis of sexual orientation or gender identification. standards for non-discrimination regarding race and religion are already in place. this ordinance would expand the protection rights further.

those in the community who support the ordinance feel that this is an issue of basic human rights, of justice for all, of freedom to live and work in the community as the person you are without being wrongly judged or dismissed because of particular lifestyle expressions. on this side of the issue, discrimination in all its forms is wrong and is to be fought against.

those against the ordinance share grave concerns regarding safety in public facilities such as restrooms, as well as the possibilities for private entities (such as churches) to be forced into providing services for people that violate their stated standards of polity (for example, mandating that a church perform same-sex marriages when their church governance does not allow for it). on this side of the issue, the way to end discrimination is not by freeing certain people to live the way in which they choose, and discriminating against another group of people who have concerns about those lifestyle expressions in the process.

i feel for people on both sides of the issue. i know people on both sides of the issue.

dear people from the broader faith community are on both sides of the issue. and they are responding to the issue by banding together, not across the divide but on either side of it. one group for the ordinance and one group against it. both speaking out for their beliefs, and against each other in the name of faith.

it breaks my heart. not only for the people feeling discriminated against on both sides of the issue, but also for the broader faith community as a whole, and for the way that faith community is perceived by the broader city community.

the religious people who believe in God’s love for all of creation…who will kill each other with words (or worse) in order to prove it.

and i sit in my supposedly broad-minded, wide-hearted space, seeking to take all peoples’ best interests into account, a ’spiritual switzerland’. and i discover that this space is actually becoming one marked more by my feelings of superiority than humility, passion for being ‘right’ rather than compassion for all those being ‘wronged’ on both sides. and i find that this space is shrinking in around me, entrapping me in feelings of frustration and resentment and fear.

it’s getting hard to breathe in there.

it’s getting hard to believe in there.

and the only way to get some Air in there, some Wind, some Breath, some Spirit…is to let go once again.

to die to the frustration and fear of losing control, and to rise in the freedom of true Love.

to live my way into broader and deeper thinking and feeling and being.

to rediscover the sacred Rhythm at the heart of it all.

to rejoin the divine dance in the center of it all.

to rejoice in the eternal gift of life that embraces it all…

the life of a conundrummer.

the ashes have vanished

the solemness banished

the disciplines finished

the darkness diminished

the palms have adorned him

the leaders have warned him

the soldiers have thorned him

the friends have all scorned him

the rabble awaken

the judges mistaken

the saviour forsaken

the foundations shaken

the creation cursed

the lynch mob dispersed

the body immersed

the blessing reversed

the lifeblood has bled

the tears have been shed

the prayers have been said

the saviour was dead.

the silence entombed them

the madness consumed them

the rumours subsumed them

the hope would exhume them

the tombstone has rolled

the women consoled

the prophets foretold

the saviour behold

the trumpets resound

the lilies abound

the glory is found

the saviour is crowned

the ribbons are braded

the bonnets paraded

the baskets are raided

the goodies are traded

the River so wide

the Peace to abide

the calling to ride

the swell of eastertide...

If you wish to find some outer stillness, find it within yourself.

If you notice other people’s irritability, let go of your own.

– Richard Rohr, The Naked Now.

to me, contemplation and creativity are two sides of the same coin.

each one comes from the other, and each one feeds the other in a beautiful and powerful symbiotic relationship. it is a relationship that lies at the heart of my experience of life, my calling and vocation, and how i seek to live as a creation of God in this world.

and a week and a half ago, i was preparing to witness an expression of this relationship at the very highest artistic level.

i got myself a ticket at the top of the second balcony of davies symphony hall in san francisco to see keith jarrett, an unrivaled master of the piano, in a solo concert.

now a keith jarrett solo concert is not merely a recital of previously written pieces of music. rather, it is a two-hour journey through his creative mind and soul. jarrett comes into the hall with no previously composed music. he creates music spontaneously through improvisation with a sense of sophistication and spirit that is hard to describe, a music that emerges from the very depths of his soul. it breaks commonly held musical barriers. it draws from seemingly endless and diverse sources of inspiration. and it is communicated with technique so deft and yet so heartfelt, it is really amazing to behold.

you could say i was pretty darn excited about being a part of such a transcendent experience.

because, to me, contemplation and creativity are two sides of the same coin.

the concert started off on an interesting note, with jarrett exploring all the possibilities of the piano itself – plucking and strumming the strings, lifting and dropping the cover on the keys, using different parts of the instrument rhythmically. it sounded a bit like distractions arising and then gradually subsiding.

then, the transcendence started.

jarrett built up a beautiful collection of harmonies and melodies from a single pedal point in the lower, left-hand section of the keyboard. and the music kept building and building, and the spirits were rising with it. then, all of a sudden, a hush came as the energy flowed into a moment of calm beauty, with jarrett gently coaxing a soothing lullaby from out of the depths of the instrument and, seemingly, the depths of his being.

then, it happened.

someone coughed.

from the front of the first balcony.

and jarrett stopped.

then, after a few moments of silence, he said, ‘beautifully played’, and went on with his playing. some soft chuckles emerged from the audience.

then, a few more coughs. the floodgates were opened.

and jarrett stopped.

and got up from the piano.

and went over to the microphone.

and began to lecture the audience about the need for silence in creativity, and the rudeness of not being able to control a cough in a setting such as this, and sarcastically wondering if people mistake ‘quiet’ with ‘cough’ and if music and mucus have some kind of relationship with each other.

he then sat down to create once again.

and the tension in the hall was thicker than the san francisco fog.

who would cough or breathe deeply next? how would jarrett respond? what about the music? what about the transcendence? it was all i could do to keep my focus on the creative experience at hand.

this calamity of ‘cough and response’ happened three more times. in the first half of the concert alone.

and the tension grew…the tension between artist and audience…the tension between expectation and experience.

the tension between contemplation and creativity.

two sides of the same coin.

at intermission, i left the stuffy confines of the hall and went out to get a breath of fresh air. i saw people leaving the hall with no intention on returning, commenting on the rudeness of jarrett as they made their way to the parking lots. i heard other people talking about the rudeness of the audience members who couldn’t keep quiet. i tossed my mixed thoughts and emotions around and around.

i headed back into the lobby. then i turned around and headed towards my car. then i headed to find a transcendent experience of another kind (namely, stopping by In-N-Out Burger for a double-double, fries and a chocolate shake).

i listened to jarrett’s music as i drove and dined. what majesty and mystery, what feel and focus, what sensuality and spirit. my imagination soared.

but soon my thoughts came crashing back down to earth.

for all of the giftedness jarrett posseses, what struck me was the garishness of his attitude towards his audience. for all of the depth of his artistry, what amazed me was the dearth of his attentiveness. for all of the lavishness of his creativity, what surprised me was the lack of his concentration.

his is an expression that comes from the recesses of the soul, a creation that comes from the contemplativeness of the spirit.

and for someone who seemingly could travel to a place where angelic singing is elicited from the darkness of the underworld, i was baffled by how easily distracted he was on the journey.

i saw a gifted artist projecting his own inner restlessness, unreconciled angst and entitled irritability onto an amazed and unsuspecting audience.

for him, at least on that night, contemplation and creativity were clearly not two sides of the same coin.

i’ve thought long and hard about my experience that night. i’ve read reviews of the show and follow-up essays on the show. i’ve even responded to a review with thoughts of my own (see the end of this blog post). and the more i’ve thought about it, the more it has caused me to think about my own contemplative and creative journey.

i’m a person who seeks to live a life grounded in a contemplative kind of peace. i try to stay awake to it and aware of its presence. i’m always looking for glimpses of it in a world addicted to busyness and productivity, consumption and competition, a world that i live in. i even write blog pieces about it (see the entry prior to this one).

and yet…

• how often do i find myself experiencing anything but peace as i look upon the injustice and lack of compassion and wisdom in the world?

• how often do i feel my inner temperature rising as i recognize the utter lack of respect people have for one another, and the seemingly insurmountable conflicts that keep people as enemies with only remote possibilities for reconciliation?

• how often am i simply distracted by seemingly trivial things that float through my brain?

• and how often do i want to lash out in anger at the madness of this world that i live in, all the distractions and delusions, all the imperfections and impossibilities?

and then…i pause for a moment to reflect. to contemplate.

and i see that my rage at the lack of justice and compassion in the world is really primarily a projection of the lack of justice and compassion within myself, towards myself.

i see that the rising of my inner temperature over the disrespect and conflicts that entrap our world are really only a reflection of a deeper disrespect i have for myself, and the burning conflict within myself between who i truly am and who i sense others expect me to be.

i see that the ease in which i am distracted from the depths of peace and joy that are present within me and around me is a symptom of a much greater dissatisfaction with who i am and an ever-deepening desire to fill eternal voids and heal eternal wounds with temporal remedies.

i see my desire to lash out in anger at the madness around me as a signal calling me to pay attention to the madness and anger within me before it eats me alive.

two planes of reality, different yet the same.

two parts of the person, different yet the same.

two sides of the same coin.

may this season of contemplation bring about a response – within me and without me – that reflects the beauty, the freedom, the mystery and majesty that comes from true creativity, of bringing something out of non-being into true being…the beautiful and powerful symbiotic relationship of temporality and transcendence, flesh and spirit, contemplation and creativity.

two sides of the same coin.

*Written in response to the review of the Jarrett concert by David Becker, SF Examiner:

‘i have been inspired by jarrett’s artistry for years now, and hesitantly bought a ticket for last friday’s concert (knowing his reputation for complaints during a concert). my understanding of what jarrett does and what meditation is meant to be is not by any means complete, but i do know that when one is in a meditative place and distractions come, the healthiest response is to quietly acknowledge them and then let them go. to stop in the midst of meditative creativity and to lash out at the sources of the distractions is not the most effective way to deal with the situation. and when people are paying to take part in the experience, and you as an artist have allowed them to do so (rather than simply recording in an empty hall) AND you are getting paid by them in the process, it is downright disrespectful to the entire experience to cry out like a petulant child because the audience isn’t meeting your standards of quiet. i was quiet the entire time i was there, and as a reflective, creative adult myself, i felt completely disrespected by a gifted artist completely consumed by his own sense of entitlement.

any kind of creative expression in a live setting is a communication, a two-way exchange, a relationship between artist and audience. i am a communicator by trade (minister) and approach my preaching as an improvisational art form (inspired by jazz music and artists such as mr. jarrett, among many others) – plenty of meditation and preparation, but then, no written ‘music’ when it’s time to share. when a cell phone goes off at a very quiet moment (like one did in both services yesterday), i could go off on how disrespectful it is to keep a cell phone on during worship, or i could use it as a part of my creative expression and move forward with the moment. i chose the latter, and all of us involved were better off for it.

part of an improviser’s calling is to respond to what is happening not only within but also around you…in no way is my artistic talent near the level of a keith jarrett, but that’s not the point. respecting your art AND your audience (who is a part of your art) IS…even if they show accidental disrespect in the process (and i don’t believe anyone entered the hall intended on coughing up a storm and ‘ruining’ the performance).

i traveled from missoula, montana in part to finally see mr. jarrett perform in person. i’m thankful to have had the experience of seeing him perform, but the first time will be the last time for me. and it pains me to write that.

(i didn’t not cough once while writing this long diatribe. but feel free to cough all you want while reading it!)’

– Jesus (in John 14.27)

he dances and prances, giggles and grins, raves and waves, and wishes them well.

i live on a historically-designated street in downtown missoula. it’s one of the busier thoroughfares in the city, with a pretty steady stream of traffic running most of the day and into the evening. and although the street is beautifully lined with maple trees and classic houses, it is not what you would typically call a ‘peaceful’ location because of the consistent rumble of cars, buses and trucks flowing past like a ever-rushing river of motion and sound (not to mention the occasional overly-inebriated person singing/yelling at the top of their lungs at 2am as they stumble their way home, or wherever they think ‘home’ is located).

for many people, this would be a less-than-desirable location to live. but for my family and me, it is wonderful.

why? just ask Ian.

or better yet, drive by our house on most any slightly sunny day. there you will find our eldest son, out in front of our house, marveling at the vehicles passing by, his body so filled with joyful sensations, he can’t help but jump up and down, clapping and cheering and waving gleefully at the passersby. he is the unofficial ‘welcoming team’ for our little part of the neighborhood.

he dances and prances, giggles and grins, raves and waves, and wishes them well.

why?

Ian loves motion. any kind of motion. any mode of transportation. wheels and wings. elevators and escalators. roller coasters and river boats. it fascinates him. it fills him with elation. and it gives him a sense of peace.

now, you may have read that last sentence and wondered how watching thundering machines and contraptions that fling people through time and space at frantic speeds could bring Ian peace. after all, don’t people who are seeking peace and quiet and the alleviation of stress move out to the stillness of the suburbs and more rural areas in order to find it? and doesn’t that migration happen based on the assumption that the last place in the world a person can find peace and quiet and stillness is in the hustle and bustle of city life?

but therein lies the rub.

equating ‘peace’ with ‘quiet’. or ’stillness’.

so often, the vision of ‘peace’ that we carry with us is one where everything around us is calm, where everyone around us gets along, where there is no warring strife or violent conflict. this is the ‘peace’ we are encouraged to ‘visualize’ from bumper stickers all across our fair nation.

but i’m not sure that is the most real and powerful image of peace.

two ancient words for ‘peace’ – shalom (hebrew) and salaam (arabic) communicate something more than just the ‘peace’ of the ‘peace sign’, something deeper than merely calm and quiet surroundings, something more life-giving than simple agreement between people. it reaches down deeper than thoughts and dreams of a world free from war and greed. it goes far beyond experiences of good luck or even good karma.

salaam and shalom speak of a life-changing, healing and hallowing wholeness in mind, heart and spirit that transforms a person from the inside out. it may manifest itself outwardly as calm in the midst of a storm, hope in the midst of despair, light in the midst of darkness. but it is more than any one of those external manifestations. it is, at its core, an internal reality and experience.

in other words, ‘peace’ is not merely the absence of pain. it is the presence of Joy.

it is not merely the absence of conflict. it is the presence of Love.

when i watch ian bouncing up and down with glee at the simple pleasure of watching traffic rush by, i do not see a person whose life is free from struggle or conflict. he has autism. he has difficulty expressing himself in verbal language. he acts in ways that at times lead others who don’t know him to make assumptions about his mental well-being.

what i do see is a person who is experiencing a Love that gives life, and a peace that surpasses his or anyone else’s ability to comprehend it…a peace that has taken root at such a deep level inwardly, it is literally impossible not to express it outwardly…a peace that celebrates the simple, yet profound gifts in life, and embodies that gratitude in ways that are beguiling and beautiful…a peace that finds beauty and grace in the constant flow of motion and machinery.

a peace that flows like a River.

a peace that reflects the presence of the One who gives not as the world gives, and who lives so that we all might live.

the One who dances and prances, giggles and grins, raves and waves, and wishes us ALL well.

Driving my body

to God-knows-where

away from the frost-bitten

chill in the air

where greatest intentions

hang still like the daggers

of crystallized ice

all pointed and jaggered

tears dropping along

the sharp edges that slash

away hopes in my flesh

like the snow, like the ash

from the fire that torches

desire and the sun

that laps at my heels

as i stumble to run

from the cold and the chill

that has frozen the life

that continues to burn

within me, within strife

under layers of frost

an ember of truth

sparks my heart and my lips

with language uncouth

sings notes of forgiveness

like teardrops of healing

to an unworthy soul

incapable of feeling

revealing, releasing

the shame of offending

repeating offenders

on whom i’m depending

to hear me, respect me

accept me, i pray

and stay with me here

in my darkened dismay

but i cling onto them

like static electricity

and cling to myself

and my soul’s eccentricity

intentions start freezing

in tense multiplicity

as i cry to the Author

of authenticity...

– Jesus (in Matthew 6.2).

blogging is a strange thing.

you take time to reflect deeply upon the world and your life in it, and what’s going on in the deepest places within you, and then (as frederick buechner says), you open up a vein and start writing. the honesty and candor that is usually reserved for a diary or journal is made available to the whole world (at least the part of the world that has internet access and reads blogs). and as soon as you write it and press the ‘publish’ button, you let go of it and let it do whatever it might do, floating out in the nebulous existence called the ‘blogosphere’.

in other words, you’re writing words meant most for yourself, sending them off into the universe like a carrier pigeon.

the difference is that, unlike a carrier pigeon, who you know will eventually return, you have no idea of anyone is reading any of it because you basically don’t get any feedback in return.

and that is a very freeing experience.

it is similar to an experience i had many years ago, when i was given the opportunity to write some songs for a christian camp in southern California. i lived 3000 miles away in New Jersey, so i wrote the songs, made a cheap recording of them, and sent them away, never to hear them again (but knowing that a whole bunch of middle schoolers would be singing them over the course of the summer).

a very freeing experience.

this is precisely why i chose to blog as one of my lenten disciplines. it has given me a reason to be more regularly intentional not only in looking deeply at my life, sorting through the fragments for glimpses of grace, but also to express what i find in writing, a gift that i have been given that i have become very lax in using. and then to let it go.

there’s only one problem with this plan.

i have a hard time letting go.

when i put something like this out to the world, i want to know if anyone else is reading it, and if so, what they might think of it. instead of setting the writing free to do what it will do (if anything), i start wondering if anyone is reading it, and if so, how many and why and what (if anything) they might be getting out of it.

and why do i do this?

because down deep inside, i feel that if no one is reading this and no one is being touched by it, then i think that what i have to say is pointless and meaningless, and so, i have no right to be writing it and putting it out there in the first place. and therefore, i myself am pointless and meaningless.

so, i look for feedback as signs of recognition, to let me know that i still have a place at the great table, that i still have a purpose in this life and a value to this world.

which is precisely the reason NOT to write a blog. at least not the reason i intended to write mine.

which becomes a very stifling experience.

the recognition that comes from this is not the kind i’m seeking in getting feedback from the blog. rather, it is the recognition of what is happening within myself…

…which leads to reflection upon the state of my soul and my fragile sense of self…

…which leads to remembrance of the One who made my deepest, truest self, the One who calls me beloved, who loves me with an everlasting love that is the core and foundation of my sense of my deepest and truest self, and who doesn’t need me to do a damned or blessed thing to prove it, to myself or anyone else…

…which leads to repentance, literally flipping a 180 away from all that leads to a distorted perception and experience of my self, others and God, and turning towards that Source of true wisdom and clear vision of who i am and what i am doing here on earth.

a turning away from dependence on the recognition of others to refill my tank of self-worth, and a turning towards the eternal Wellspring of Living Water, the River that constantly flows with life and love, and allowing it to wash over me and through me with everlasting refreshment.

a letting go of what is not real to embrace what (and who) is truly Real.

there is only one problem with this plan.

i have a hard time letting go.

but here goes.

i hope no one reads this blog today.

and i hope that one person reads it and walks away with something worthwhile.

that person is me.

now…THAT is a freeing experience.

– Hebrews 12.1.

the day started with clear skies and sunshine.

and then the clouds came.

not an unusual occurrence here in missoula. we get plenty of cloudy days. even when the rest of montana in basking in sunshine. not unlike seattle (without as much rain) or san francisco (without as much fog).

that doesn’t explain the fog in my head that i walk around in most days, but i digress.

as i watched the light grow brighter this morning, i was inspired, awe struck at the gift of being able to exist on this beautiful little blue ball ‘falling around the sun’ (to quote james taylor). and then a few wispy white clouds blew in and painted the sky with another hue, added another dimension. and my thoughts turned to that familiar phrase from scripture…the ‘great cloud of witnesses’.

and the flood of images began pouring through my mind…the people i have been privileged to know over my life’s journey who have impacted me profoundly, in ways that have truly changed my life for the better, at a level of depth most of them probably will never truly know. family members, teachers, neighbors, friends from school, coaches, fellow teammates and musicians, students and volunteers from my youth ministry days, children, youth and adults young and old from my ‘rev.’ days…as well as authors, songwriters and composers, filmmakers, actors, artists whom i’ve never met in person but have ‘met’ on the page, the canvas, the screen and stage, in my ears and my imagination…and complete strangers i have walked past or who have stopped to engage me surprisingly and insightfully.

my heart filled with wonder and gratitude for where my life’s journey has led me, and the people i never would have encountered had i not been called to this nomadic way of life known as being a pastor. i even shot out some brief messages to dear friends who are now far away from me geographically, but always close to me in Spirit and heart. warmth and light flooded my being.

and then the clouds came.

these clouds didn’t paint the sky, but rather, seemed to obstruct the light. the brilliant blue faded and the haunting grey took its place. a deep sigh ensued from the depths of my being. another dreary day.

and i thought to myself, ‘what a weird image to use for the people, the communities that are the ones who embody the Spirit to us, who reflect the brilliance of the Light of the world, who even add further dimensions to the beauty…what could God be thinking giving us a perplexing and wholly useless vision like this?’ i mean, is a cloudy day like today meant to remind us of all the ways that the ‘clouds’ block out the Light?

two deep sighs. double the dreariness.

but then it happened.

in the midst of what had become a dismal looking day, a tiny little patch of blue sky appeared amidst the floating sea of grey. and then another. and another. and some of the clouds transformed from dullish grey to dazzling white. and the sky took on yet another look.

blue and grey and white.

dreary and dazzling and multi-dimensional.

and then i noticed the sun beginning to peek through the clouds, the rays of light shooting out through the clouds with piercing beauty in all directions. the clouds weren’t only reflecting the light…they were also refracting the light in ways that caught my attention and my breath, that caused me to stop what i was doing and to stare. in wonder. in awe.

to look directly at the sun.

which i wouldn’t have been able to do without going blind.

until the clouds came.

yes, we clouds can obstruct the Light.

but we can also reflect the Light.

and we can even refract the Light.

and create a sight that is truly breathtakingly beautiful to behold…

clouds...reflecting and refracting the Light

– Genesis 2.25.

yesterday, march 1st, it was 54 degrees and sunny in Missoula.

and i didn’t the leave the house.

why?

i’m not really sure.

i’ve had the creepy crud in my head and chest for a week and a half now, but i wasn’t feeling terribly ill yesterday. i admired the beauty of the day through the windows of my house. i enjoyed the sense that spring is already here, although it isn’t (this IS missoula, after all, where warm sunshine in february and march is as likely as a snowstorm in june, which happened a couple of years ago).

i think perhaps i approached the day much like someone approaches the water on the oregon coast. it’s beautiful to look at from a distance, but you just don’t want to plunge in to the waves.

this is understandable on the oregon coast because the water is usually only slightly warm enough to not become ice. but on a beautiful, warm, sunny, springlike day…why stay inside? why not plunge into the gloriousness of that kind of heavenly gift?

i’m not really sure.

but at the end of the day, i saw an image that touched me deeply and prodded me into something resembling an insight as to why i remained a ‘lazy boy’ ensconced in my la-z-boy recliner for most of the day.

the image was of two beautiful boys who are a part of our church family. they were out with their mom on that sunny day at bonner park playing wiffle ball. and the picture (which appeared in this morning’s local paper) was of these brothers with their shirts off enjoying the game and soaking in the heavenly gift of warmth and sunshine…

partly naked...completely unashamed

i saw this great pic and wondered, ‘why didn’t i go out and do that?’

then i thought that someone would probably call the cops who would charge me with indecent exposure. i mean, on a beautiful day like that, the last thing unsuspecting people would want to see is the Stay-Puff marshmallow man wandering through their park.

but beyond the sheer physical aspect of it, why don’t i venture out into the warmth and light of life more often?

is it because down deep, i wouldn’t want to be a part of a club that would have someone like me for a member?

is it because, when all the chips are down, i’m afraid of being exposed for who i really am?

and is my version of ‘who i really am’ who i REALLY am? or is it too skewered by guilt and shame, which then hinders me from more fully discovering and living into who i REALLY am?

i’m not REALLY sure.

or maybe i AM.

maybe this season of lent is a time for exposure, a time to identify and call out on the carpet all the lies that i regularly tell myself, a time to face up to all that is within me that thrives in the darkness of isolation and bring it out in to the light of reality and truth and grace and life.

maybe it’s time to reveal and embrace the guilt and shame for what it really is.

and maybe i will become less guilty and more gracious, less ashamed and more accepting in the process.

and maybe i will become more fully who i REALLY am.

i’m not REALLY sure.

as for today, i’m going outside for a run in the sun.

but for the sake of my neighbors’ well being, i’ll keep my shirt on.

– Rob Gordon (John Cusack), from the movie High Fidelity.

i’d been trying to make a special mix cd for my wife, kirsten, for months now. even years. you would think that something like this shouldn’t take that long. but for me, it has.

i wondered why. i mean, i had made mix cd’s for other friends over the years. and while it does take intentional time and thought and creativity, it’s not like i was writing a novel or a symphony. if anything, it was more like writing a blog entry. it involves all the aforementioned things, but at least for me, it also comes out pretty quickly. and i like that kind of spontaneity in expression. (it’s probably why i love jazz so much.)

but for this creation, i pondered and searched and compiled and arranged and re-arranged and edited and re-edited the order of songs countless times, trying to find just the right flow, the perfect combination of other peoples’ poetry to express my own feelings.

i’d love to say that i found it. but in the end, what i had to work with was about 78 minutes worth of space per cd, and songs that were not written by me for her or us. and like composing ‘found’ poetry, what you end up with is not nearly ‘perfection’ but, hopefully, ‘reflections’ of experiences that have shaped you and the one with whom you have traveled significant parts of your life’s journey.

what i ended up with was a ragtag collection of pieces that evoke certain memories and feelings from the past, expressed in the present with gratitude and love in hope for the future.

what i made for her was a ‘trilogy’ of cd’s…one remembering the ‘giddy’ early years, one reflecting the joys and challenges of facing ‘real life’ together, and one expressing thankfulness for a love grounded in that lived reality.

(they are NOT all in d minor, ‘the saddest of all keys’, as nigel tufnel so astutely observed in This is Spinal Tap)

as i listen to the collection now, what strikes me is not so much the end product, but what the process of compiling and creating it revealed to me.

kir and i have been married for almost 20 years now. and we’ve known each other much longer than that (since we were 8 years old…do the math and it adds up to 37 years). that’s A LOT of years and even MORE memories. so many laughs and smiles, tears and sighs, knowing glances and reckless dances, inside jokes and friendly pokes, receding hairlines and expanding waistlines, harrowing diagnoses and perplexing quandaries, unmet expectations and anguished revelations, miraculous healings and maturing feelings, glimpses of infinity and doses of reality.

and through it all, a friendship i couldn’t have invented if i were the inventor of friendship.

and a love that embraces all that’s frail and all that’s real, and transcends both of us.

it’s been quite a journey thus far. and as i looked back through all that we have traveled through – as individuals and as a couple, the moments of peace and pain, what has shocked and shaped us – i realized that so much of it came from forces around us as well as within us, people whose words and actions encouraged, challenged and inspired us, circumstances that surprised, frightened and delighted us. most of the significant substance of our journey was not our own creation ex nihilo, but rather, a mixture of elements that we discovered (or that discovered us) formed into something that is certainly not ‘perfect’, but is definitely more scandalously beautiful, preposterously eloquent, and transcendently powerful than either of us could have created on our own.

like ‘found’ poetry. or a finely crafted mix cd. allowing the words, actions, experiences of others on their journeys to become a means of shaping and expressing our own journey.

a journey we couldn’t have invented, even if we were the Inventor of journeys.

a Love that embraces all that’s frail and all that’s real, and transcends all of us.

A bright cloudless day

no breeze or breath

dry, open space before me

windswept from the night before

a silence so deafening

it drowns out the screams

echoing in the empty well

that is my heart and soul

on this day

bright and cloudless

no traces of the explosion

that created among the rubble

this dry, open space before me

void of any remnant

of the life i once held

together like an adhesive

the fragments of those

closest to the empty well

that is my heart and soul

have vanished into

the bright cloudless sky

and i’m left to myself

awaiting the implosion

of all this emptiness

upon this dry, open place before me

no faces to comfort me

not even in my dreams

no arms to hold me

together like an adhesive

no thing

no one

to fill this empty well

this aching heart and soul

this lonely, windswept place

that is my dwelling

that used to be my home

but the deafening Silence

as it drowns

out the screams

and whispers

words of comfort

and enfolds me

in its loving arms

and holds me

together

for now

is all

i have

no one

but You