the Cloud of Unknowing

Can people who are married and have kids be contemplatives?  I used to think that contemplatives only existed in the walls of a monastery, whether it be a Christian or Buddhist monastery.  I do not live in a cloister, but my home is the community in which I am spiritually growing.

My daughter Winnie is almost a year old.  The days of holding her in the early morning while she naps on my chest and praying silently are long gone.  Winnie wakes up rearing to go and walks from corner to corner exploring each cranny, and un-shelving most of her favorite books.  It is hard to center and sit in silence and open oneself to contemplative prayer, when you are utterly exhausted most of the time.

The anonymous author of Cloud of Unknowing writes in the 43rd chapter about forgetting the self and to "let nothing stir your mind or will other than God.  Attempt to suppress all your thoughts and feelings regarding subjects less than God.  Put distracting ideas under a cloud of forgetting.  In contemplation, forget everything, including yourself and your accomplishments."  How do I focus on God and let everything else go?

For me, getting out of my own thoughts come usually the way of helping others and being of service to them, and eventually I get out of my own head in the action of helping others long enough that I remember to consciously contact God with my thoughts, words, and eventually someday with my whole being.

Being a father to a young toddler is often hectic and frenzied.  :)  But there are opportunities to open yourself up to the moment and let go of "distracting ideas" and "forget everything."  Kids are wonderful teachers in opening yourself up to the present moment.  My daughter Winnie and I have been lately taking morning walks.  Winnie does not go very far until she inspects the tiny spec she sees on the side walk, or stumbles towards the grass to see a leaf, rubbish, or something that caught her eye; she is in awe of everything.  If I put down my cell phone long enough, because I am usually busy capturing these cute moments digitally, I am invited to be present and put my focus on here and now.  I see with new eyes, eyes of my daughter, a piece of discarded wrapper becomes treasure and a thing of fascination.

Children are also good teachers in giving and receiving love.  I am not sure where Winnie learned this, but sometimes spontaneously as I or my wife, Jocelyn holds her, she will cry "hug" and give the most warm heartfelt hug.  Winnie gently lays her head on your chest and wraps her arms around you. In those little moments, I am not thinking about myself, how tired I am, but just being in the presence of love.  This sort of love I think are glimpses of how God loves us.  This sort of Holy Love only exists now, in the present moment.  It is love that one has to experience and open up to, and let go of one's defenses.  Kids and puppies are good at disarming most of us, and a random act of kindness from them will melt even the coldest of hearts (not all, but most).

I am not a monk.  I am a father and a husband. But I too am a contemplative.   I happen to be Quaker and also Catholic.  I grew up in the great tradition of the Methodist Church, but even then I was drawn to moments of silence.  The contemplation that finds me in my current experience is sporadic, but it still nurtures me.  It is the type of silence that opens me up and connects me to something bigger, and gives me hope even in the worst of days.  I carry this silence that lives in my heart and is nurtured at home, to the hospital when I encounter folks in crisis as a Chaplain Intern.  I am grateful to have my wife, Jocelyn and my daughter, Winnie as teachers in giving and receiving love with all my heart and soul.

Living Here and Now

Spiritual identity is not something far off, not something we need to go to Tibet to find.  It is here, in the way we walk on the earth, the way we see our life, the way we care for ourselves and others.  Our true nature is not something extraordinary; in fact, it is quite ordinary, an inevitable portion of our daily life.--Muller (How Then Shall I Live?, 64)

Spiritual life is not a theory. We have to live it.--Anonymous (Big Book, 83) 

It is hard not to run away, when things get hard.  Even good things like being a dad, being married to the person i love, pursuing a career that feels natural to who i am, and seeking spiritual growth in the community i have been placed can be all very "hard."  I learned very early on to check out when i feel overwhelmed and stressed.  I escaped into my room, and would day dream being a super hero, or a famous country music star traveling the world singing in juke joints.  I escaped into my mind to disconnect from the unbearable discomfort of what was happening in the now.  

I find it sometimes impossible to pray where I am, because I feel like where I am is not enough.  I judge the hell out of myself, and this self judgement keeps me disconnected from God, myself, and others around me.  I am slowly, but surely learning to take a deep breath during these moments of self-pity and as I get grounded into my breath, my body, I become more aware of the here and now.  I start to connect to myself, and then able to connect to something greater than myself.  Quakers have a saying "that of God in you," and I forget in these moments of disconnection that the Holy Spirit dwells within me.

I still daydream sometimes about practicing a "real" spiritual life when I have time, so I can go on prayer retreats, visit monasteries, and learn from holy people.  I do not discount the value of going on spiritual retreats, but my wish for escape from spirituality in my daily life robs me of growing and practicing a spiritual life in this very moment.  I pray in the now, even when I am changing my daughter's poopy diaper, and even after or during hurtful words being spoken.  I pray, when all I can utter are a few words, because I am so sleep deprived.

God accepts me even when I am cranky and not at my best, and the question is whether I can accept myself as I am.  I am working on this, and it's a work in process.  But this "work" is often joyful work that I undertake, because the work of a spiritual life is my life as it is.  So here I am, trading on this road the best I can, and making tons of mistakes as a first time father and husband.  I try to be a good son to my parents and a good brother, but sometimes I get caught up in my own life and go a long time without reaching out to them.  But even in all my little failings, I know that God is walking with me and through me.

I hope these words are helpful to others who are struggling to live a spiritual life here and now in the messiness of their lives.


Lord Grant me the serenity to be myself.  Give me the courage to grow, and the wisdom to trust in You, myself, and others.  Amen.

(http://julianofnorwich.blogspot.com/2012/01/day-56.html)

Growing Pains

"Communities need tensions if they are to grow and deepen.  Tensions come from conflicts within each person--conflicts born out of a refusal of personal and community growth, conflicts between individual egoisms, conflicts arising from a diminishing gratuite, from a clash of temperaments and from individual psychological difficulties.  These are natural tensions.  Anguish is the normal reaction to being brought up against our own limitations and darkness, to the discovery of our own deep wound...There are a thousand reasons for tension.  And each of them brings the whole community, as well as each individual member of it, face to face with its own poverty, inability to cope, weariness, aggression and depression.  These can be important times if we realize that the treasure of the community is in danger.  When everything is going well, when the community feels it is living successfully, its members tend to let their energies dissipate, and to listen less carefully to each other.  Tensions bring people back to the reality of helplessness; obliging them to spend more time in prayer and dialogue, to work patiently to overcome the crisis and refind lost unity; making them understand that the community is more than just a human reality, that it also needs the spirit of God if it is to live and deepen."  --Jean Vanier (120, Community and Growth)

I think of myself as a caring and loving person, and yet at times I find myself deeply self-centered and selfish.  I don't set out to be selfish or self-centered, but it often starts with "Yes, but..." or "Well, you could have said it this way..."  My need to be right sometimes gets in the way of unity within my current community, my life with my wife, Jocelyn and our 8 months old daughter, Winnie.  I have been experiencing these tensions that Jean Vanier described in the quote above, and they do indeed bring me a place of what he calls "reality of helplessness," or what I choose to call an experience of powerlessness.  I lack the power sufficient to solve the problem of my own making, which is my aversion to growth and change; when I deny this fundamental reality of life, change, then I experience pain and suffering.

I agree with Jean that the movement from tension, conflict, to growth comes from opening to a power greater than ourselves, which he calls the spirit of God and what I choose to call the Divine Presence.  My own deep wounds come out, as I share my life on a daily basis with the people I love and that love me.  Sometimes, our wounds rub up against each other, and we react out of fear and pain.  I experienced the discomfort of my wounds being rubbed at L'Arche Daybreak and then at L'Arche GWDC, when I shared my life with other members of our community.  One conflict I had early on as an assistant at Euclid House was over dishes with another assistant, and he had soaked by beloved cast iron skillet in soap!  I am not sure why something so small, evoked so much anger in me, but it also brought out anger in him when I confronted him about it.  We were eventually able to work it out, slowly but surely, and talk through our tensions and own inner conflicts.  We realized that we were both hearing the voices of critical father figures.

I am no longer at L'Arche, but I find myself reliving the lessons I learned in community within my life as a husband and as a new father in Richmond, VA.  I am learning that I cannot make decisions on my own, because my actions affect the whole family.  I know this seems very simple, but seeing that I cannot act selfishly and that I have to choose unity of the whole does not come easy for me.  I sometimes want to make my own choices and not run it by my wife, or just drag my daughter along to activities I want to do.  On most days I do not make these selfish choices, but it sometimes takes a lot of prayer and dialogue to make this happen.  I also fall prey to going on rants or long winded monologues with my wife, instead of actually opening myself to listen with love.

Most people see me as a nice and polite person, and it's true that I can be very nice and polite.  However, sometimes underneath my layer of quiet politeness, lies a deep seated anger and frustration.  I am slowly learning to express anger and frustration in healthy ways, along with other feelings and verbalizing other range of emotions.  I feel like a immature teenager when it comes to communicating feelings, and navigating conflict.

I am currently working on getting accredited as a chaplain, and the experiences as a chaplain intern and course work has been very helpful in exploring naming tensions within myself and groups that I am part of.   I still find tensions between people, whether it be with me and someone else, or tension among people I am with very uncomfortable.  But lately, I am  learning to stay put and listen deeply, and patiently explore ways to clear up miscommunication.  Hopefully I can allow the Divine Presence to live and deepen within my life and deepen my commitment to the folks around me.  What a blessing it is to share life with Jocelyn and baby Winnie.

published 7/19/15
  

  

Spiritual Life: Clearing Away the Poop

Everyone poops.  Most TV shows leave out characters doing mundane things like using the bathroom, cleaning their homes, because they want to suck you into a world that you want to escape to.  I watched a lot of Star Trek: the Next Generation, and I don't know if anyone poops or pees in the future.  Similarly, great works of spiritual writing and theology often leave out the very practical mundane reality of our existence like cleaning up a 6 months old baby's poopy cloth diaper, after she has started eating solids.  Maybe the early Church Fathers and Mothers did not have this problem, but they do talk about daily tasks in the monastic setting.  However, my community like the majority of us does not occur in an Christian monastic setting, Buddhist monastery, or in an Ashram.

My immediate community I wake up to everyday, the people I am sharing life together in a very intimate way, consist of my wife and daughter.  I never imagined while I was studying theology at Duke Divinity School, which for the most part was really academically focused, that my prayer life includes wiping my daughter's rear and spraying off her poopy cloth diapers.  What am I ranting about you ask?  Simply put, my spiritual life is here and now in my very reality.  I pray now, connect to God at this very moment as I write this blog, as I laugh with my daughter, and when I practice forgiveness.

I think God is with me even when I get angry or say a hurtful word to the very people I love, but in those moments I choose disconnection and separate from a loving God that holds me and others gently.  I can choose to reconnect, sometimes slowly and other times quickly by looking at my part and admitting where I was wrong.  If you know me, I rarely like to be wrong.  I am always trying to figure it out and talk my way into being right: a way of being that served me well before, but does not create a happy or healthy marriage.  Sometimes the most spiritual thing to do is hold my tongue and swallow my pride, and just shut up and listen.  It sounds simple, but really difficult to do in the moment when you are sleep deprived, and start taking everything personally.

I wonder if the Buddha or Jesus ever changed poopy diapers?  Jesus was not married, but surely he must have been around little babies.  The historical Buddha was married and had kids before he awakened, but he probably had servants who did all that stuff since he was a prince.  Most of us are not the Son of God or the awakened one, but like them we can embody love in the here and now, even at the most difficult moments.

I used to think I would become a spiritual person by becoming a monk, then  later by living in community at L'Arche.  What I am experiencing now is that God, which I prefer to call the Divine Prescence invites me into holy silence in moments of boisterous cries from my daughter, to the still quiet mornings when my wife is asleep upstairs, and I am holding our daughter, Winnie. close to my chest as she peacefully naps.  Like I said before, it's not all about cleaning poop, but my life includes the day to day stuff that needs to be done.  I can't always see the everyday stuff as spiritual. I don't always experience how sacred this very moment is, but sometimes my heart breaks open for just a little bit and I truly experience everything as a gift.  But if I am not careful, I collect resentments, fears and judgments that turn the very things and people in my life I am grateful for into burdens and hassle.  Sometimes, I need to clear away the "poop" within myself, metaphorically speaking, to be open to gratitude for my life as it is.  It's much easier to live life clear and free, so I can be grateful for now instead of living in the past or living in the future.  

Spiritual Lessons from a Teething Child

Me and my daughter. 

Teething is a painful process and very uncomfortable.  My daughter's ear piercing screams make my heart wrench as I try to soothe her as her new bottom teeth are coming in.  While spiritual growth is not exactly like getting your first baby tooth, it can also be a very painful and down right uncomfortable process.

In my 20s, I had a mistaken belief that a spiritual awakening or some sort of "aha" moment, which Zen describes of kensho would somehow make my life more easy.  I confused spiritual growth as somehow comfort and ease.  Don't get me wrong, sometimes spiritual experiences are very pleasant in that they provide a sense of clarity.

In my early 30s, I was given a moment of clarity, where I saw for the first time that the way I was living my life was not working.  I could no longer blame everyone else for my misery, and maybe just maybe I was willing to try another way before I tried killing myself yet again.  It seems funny now to me looking back at how delusional I was thinking I was somehow in control, and I could figure my life out.  I had tried many spiritual paths at this point from Anarchist philosophy, Stoicism, Buddhism, Taoism, and different strains of Christianity like Methodism and Catholicism.

I moved to a L'Arche community in DC also hoping that somehow coming to a spiritual community would fix me.  The reality was I did not want to truly let control, and my mind started seeing all the ways in which my L'Arche community was the problem and not really helping me.  I once again fell into a common pattern of mine, blaming others for the dissatisfaction, restlessness, and internal discomfort I felt.  I was spiritually sick and I did not even know it, until I finally came to the jumping off place.  At this point, I was praying everyday for a God of my understanding to kill me in my sleep.  Why do the dirty work if someone else will do it for you?  It upset me each morning that God was not merciful and took me in my sleep, but I had to face life which felt like a chore...a living hell.

I am like a baby in that I thought the world revolved around me.  A 31 year old man behaving like a helpless baby leaves one angry entitled human being.  Luck for me, I was given a gift of desperation...hitting a spiritual bottom.  In a moment of clarity I became aware that the common denominator in all my misery no matter where I went was me.  I had to change or get busy dying, because I did not want to continue living this way.

No one, not even a loving community could make me surrender, nor could they then do the work of inner change.  I opened myself to a God that I did not really believe, because this God of my childhood, God I studied in seminary was a God of my own making...ultimately I still ran the show.  My way did not work and luckily enough I was able to reach out for help and be desperate enough not to control who or what that form of help came.

I experienced a state of admitting I was powerless and being open to another way, which meant admitting my way, my thinking, and the way I was living was not thinking.  I was my worst enemy.  I am not sure if babies think these thoughts as they experience pain and suffering, maybe they just cry because they hurt.  My daughter goes from extreme distress to belly laughs, and I truly envy how she is so much in the moment.  She is powerless over the pain and discomfort of teething, but it is my hope that she trusts that she has loving parents that are looking out for her and walking with her through the process.  I sometimes forget that I have a loving Power in my life that walks with me through the pains and joys of life, and sometimes that Power reaches out to me through friends and sometimes strangers.  I truly believe and have experienced how we can be channels of God's peace, especially in moments we are honest and vulnerable.

Teething like spiritual growth can be very tiring, and sometimes we need a nice long nap cuddled up to someone we love.

getting Winnie to nap: lessons in humility

I've faced many challenges in my life: depression, paying taxes, getting beyond suicidal iterations, finding a job, and etc.  But none of them compare to getting a little baby to nap on her bed.  :)

Winnie loves to nap on my chest, but based on the wisdom of all the parents before me and especially at the suggestion of my lovely wife, I am trying to be consistent about teaching her how to nap in her own bed.  The problem arises a few minutes after I lay her down, and she abruptly wakes up either smiling and laughing or screaming and wailing. 

What does this have to do with spirituality?  There's nothing like a lesson in humility and a call to practice love and tolerance like the presence of a young infant.  I am learning a lesson that my life in community keeps teaching me, which is that I cannot control other people.  However, I can try to be centered and stable inside, so I can show up on a consistent basis. 

The other day, my daughter and I napped in our bed for a whole freaking hour.  It was amazing, and especially needed because she had woken up around 3:30 that morning.  I am learning that we are called to love and practice love, even when we are sleep deprived and tired, and I feel like I have nothing to give.

I never thought I was a rigid person, but I've realized as this lovely new person is constantly changing my routine that I have doggedly become a creature of habit.  I want things to happen when I want them to, even when I have a roughly fluid schedule.  I am working on this with my wife practicing love and tolerance with me.  I don't always see how selfish I am being.  I'll offer up a story to illustrate.  Few months after Winnie was born, we planned to visit our friends in DC.  I had organized a lunch with friends and also set up a place for us to stay, and sort of roughly mapped out what we'd do that weekend.  The night before we were going on the trip, Winnie was not feeling well and I was also starting to feel slightly not so well.  I sort of threw a tantrum when my wife Jocelyn told me we probably should not go tomorrow.

I was really upset and could not get past the plans I had made.  My plans became more important than the people right in front of me, and even my own body telling me to rest.  The morning came and my daughter was snottier and I was worse, and I finally had the sense to realize that my wife was wise and spoke the truth.  It is so humbling to admit that you are wrong, and then the hard part is trying to change and not repeat the same mistake.

Winnie's naps similar to the story I shared, is another experience of me not being able to control the situation or a person.  Little babies have good days and bad, and my job is to show up with an open heart.   Laugh when my daughter wakes up smiling and laughing, and soothe her when she wakes up crying.  Back to this great experiment called parenting...   :) 

   

prayer and meditation

I have been practicing some form of meditation since 1999, my first year as an undergraduate at UNC-Chapel Hill.  I read a book on Taoist meditation techniques and started sitting.  I then I about Zen and started sitting zazen.  My meditation practice was off and on until 2008, when I entered a Methodist seminary in Durham, NC.  I began to be interested in contemplative practices within the Christian church and sought out a mentor for Centering Prayer and started a centering prayer group along with new friends at seminary.  I would say that my love for contemplatives started initially when I discovered Taoist sages, Zen monks, Hindu ascetics, and later early Church Fathers and Mothers. 

I was drawn to the writings of Thomas Merton and encountered Trappist Monks when I was in seminary during a spiritual retreat.  I used to visit Mepkin Abbey (http://mepkinabbey.org/wordpress/) on a more regular basis, and spent a month there as a Monastic Guest while in seminary.  My last year in seminary, I became Catholic.  I tell people that I came into the Catholic Church through the back door, being pulled by the contemplatives of the monastic tradition.

Currently, I am a member of the Religious Society of Friends.  In the eyes of the Catholic Church, I remain Catholic, and only a confession away to be an upstanding member.   

My prayer life consists of daily starting my day with intercessory prayer and silence.  I have set prayers I have memorized, and I go through them to open my heart and mind to the will of a God of my understanding.  I prefer the Quaker term of Divine Presence.  I then sit in silence about 20 minutes, and sometimes invoking the sacred word as taught by Fr. Keating in practicing centering prayer if I get distracted.  I intersperse my prayer life with zazen, more specifically a sitting practice called shikantaza, which roughly translates to just sitting.  I became more disciplined in my sitting while I was in seminary, and often sat with the Buddhist student group.

As a father of a 4 months old daughter, I've had to be little more flexible with my prayer life and meditation practice.  When I awake in the morning, I am often waking up to my daughter getting up to start her day.  I usually change her diaper, read to her, play with her and sing to her about an hour before she takes her first nap of the day.  I pray and meditate while holding her.  I am sitting on a couch rather than on a meditation cushion.  My sitting on a zafu has been irregular, but I still try to just sit when I hold my daughter on my couch.

My night time prayer has been also more fluid and flexible.  I rarely sit on the cushion, but I try to pray and do some deep breathing as I lay in our bed.  I try to open myself to my body sensations, to my own breath and the breathing of my daughter and wife. 

I will try to return to a more disciplined meditation practice, especially with the sitting posture on the zafu once my daughter sleeps through the night [keep your figures crossed :)].     

Spiritual practices for stay at home parents

I used to have a pretty structure practice of prayer and meditation, i would start my day with prayer and sit in silence on a meditation cushion for 20 minutes to start the day.  I would then do a similar practice in the evening.

When my daughter Winnie was born almost over 3 months a go, I had to learn to pray more fluidly and less on a rigid schedule.  I still try to make time for silence and prayer, and of course we can pray through out the day, but I am talking about the intentional time one takes to make an effort to be quiet and open the heart to God or something greater than ourselves.

I have since college incorporated a meditation practice into my life, which became more on a regular for the past 3 years.  A really helpful practice is walking meditation, which I try to do when I go on walks with my daughter in a carrier.  She is happily passed out on my past.  I focus on my breath, my steps, the warmth of my daughter's body next to mine, and sort of open up.  It helps to start with my own breath, body sensations, before I open up to everything else.  I find this practice grounding, and it helps me to be more centered and grounded as I am being present to my daughter.

If you are Christian, repeating the Jesus Prayer as you walk is really helpful, "Lord Jesus Christ, son of God, have mercy on me."  It is a simple prayer that's been part of the early Church and still practiced by members of the Eastern Orthodox Church and other traditions.  There's many variations of this prayer, but whichever one you choose, you can incorporate it with your breath.

When I was a practicing Catholic, I used to pray the rosary on my walks and that was really helpful.

I find the practice of tuning into my breath and body really beneficial, whether you are of any particular faith or not.

I also find the time I am feeding my daughter to be a very special and intimate time.  I give a prayer of thanks and love, sometimes silently and sometimes by just speaking out loud "Thank You, I Love You."  My daughter seems to always enjoy it.  You can also do breath and body scan exercises as you feed your child, if you are interested in more the meditative practices. 

little moments

"silence of night"

breaths slow

bodies rest

a hushed

silence 

falls

upon

the

world

(Poem I wrote on: http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1064653/silence-of-night/)

It's been almost 3 weeks of being a stay at home dad, and I'll have to say that it's the best "job" I've ever had.  Also, I've enjoyed spending days with my wife and daughter, on the week days where she does not have to work; when we were both working, it was difficult to just enjoy the day at a relaxed pace.

I have no deep spiritual reflections to impart or deep wisdom today.  ;). I was more musing about the little moments of silence that inhabit my day.  I am not talking about the silence that comes out of a hurtful word or a deadening silence, but the type of silence that's full of wonder, peace, and leaves you feeling more connected to yourself and the world.

Maybe it's because my days are spent in motion--singing, feeding, playing and walking--that I notice little glimpses of silence.  Sometimes it's an inner silence that comes from deep joy like a surprising moment when my daughter started to really belly laugh for the first time in my company.  The little moments on our walk where I notice the birds singing and move to a music only they can hear as they hop on the ground looking for food.

I live in the city, so actual silence is quite relative.  I hear the hum of tires on pavement outside our window as I put my daughter asleep.  But the hum becomes harmony to the beautiful melody of her quiet little breaths.  As I listen, I become more in touch with my own breath and the beating of my heart.

Some days I am less in tune with the little moments of silence that connects, and it seems I am going from thing to thing in a general state of panic.  Every parent knows the guy wrenching sound of their child crying, I mean really crying, after you've taken care of all their needs.  I feel totally helpless at that moment, but my own experience has thought me if I keep being there with love and calm, my daughter relaxes into my chest.  

I feel sometimes like I am a baby throwing a tantrum, because I wonna.  I push away from a loving parent, but when I relax I can rest in the warmth of a loving Divine Presence and listen to the heart beats of life.  It is strange that when I am in tune with interior silence, the noise of the world seems like less chaotic junk, but a strange music.

I am writing this entry as my daughter gently sleeps on my chest on a Tuesday morning.  Our cat Hermione is cozier up on top of my legs and I can feel her warmth.  I hear my daughter's breathin and I can feel the weight of her gently caressing me.  I am grateful for today and for the gift of being able to receive the day with all its wonder and silence.

Vocation

( 1st half originally written in June 26, 2011)

The word vocation comes from the Latin verb vocare, which means to call.  The term vocation was mainly used by Christians to refer to God's call on an individual, or to a community of people; vocation is now used more in the secular sense to refer to one's occupation.

This past weekend, I shared with a group of Duke undergrads, who are living in community for the summer, my journey into L'Arche and how it helped me to figure out God's call upon my life.  I tried to convey to the students that I see my vocation as a call or an invitation to a certain way of life, or a way of being.  

When I initially lived at L'Arche Daybreak for 10 weeks two summers ago, I knew that I was not done with L'Arche.  That summer at Dybreak helped me let go of false identities and false images of God, and helped me be more open to my brothers and sisters with intellectual disabilities, and those who are defined by our culture as "non-normative."  I also encountered the God of mystery, one that I did not know, and God that was beyond my human understanding. 

I have been at L'Arche DC for three weeks now.  I am still trying to be open to how the Holy Spirit is working in my life and trying to open my heart-mind bit by bit.  My mind initially resisted community life here by comparing L'Arche DC to Daybreak.  I realize now that I have to hold my experiences in Canada gently, so I do not idealize them to the point that they become a hindrance to living out my life here and now at a different L'Arche community.

I would like to close with a quote from Jean Vanier's Community and Growth:

To grow in love is to try each day to welcome, and to be attentive and caring for those whom we have the greatest difficulty; with our 'enemies'; those who are the poorest, the oldest, the weakest, the most demanding, the most ailing; those who are the most marginal in our community, who have the most difficulty conforming to the rules; and finally those who are the youngest.
  

If people are faithful to these four priorities of love then the community as a whole will be an oasis of love.  

---------------------

(2nd half written January 8, 2015)

It has been over three and a half years since I wrote the first half of this blog about vocation, and since then I have been doing a whole lot of growing.  I struggle to grow in love, as Jean Vanier defines it, which is to "welcome, and to be attentive and caring to those whom we have the greatest difficulty."  

I have experience with this sort of growth not just with people, but life transitions that redefine or sometimes sheds old identifications.  

I had to adjust my perspective of individuality, when I took vows of marriage in October 26, 2013.  I had to let go of my selfish ways, and realized that my choices and decisions now effect someone else in a very direct way; I had to learn how to share my life and talk through decisions that affected my wife.  

Few months ago, on November 11, 2014, my daughter was born.  The greatest difficulty I have sometimes is realizing that the world doesn't revolve around me, and there is no better teacher in the world than a new born to get you out of your selfishness.  My daughter becomes center stage, and not my own selfish needs and thoughts.  Of course, I say all this with a grain of sand, I need to take care of myself emotionally, spiritually, and physically so I can show up fully for myself and my family.  I am not good to my daughter or my wife, when I am full of fear, resentments, and cranky because I have not eaten all day or taken care of my other needs.  All in all, I am learning to be responsible.  

What does this have to do have to do with vocation?  As I wrote before, the word vocation comes from the Latin verb vocare, which means to call.  God has called me to be a husband, and now a father to my daughter.  I am working on vocation as a profession as well, and hope to eventually follow my calling by exploring hospice chaplaincy.  But for now, I am called to be a stay at home dad and care for my daughter, my wife, and my home.  

I hope to also be a good member of the Religious Society of Friends, more commonly known as Quakers, and "let my life speak" as Quakers say.

A lot of my own vocation has to do with little moments, where I show up to myself and others without any expectations for pay or anything back in return.  I give of myself freely and without expectations, and in that moment I have truly fulfilled my calling.       

Gratitude

True spiritual gratitude embraces all of our past, the good as well as the bad events, the joyful as well as the sorrowful moments. From the place where we stand, everything that took place brought us to this place, and we want to remember all of it as part of God's guidance. That does not mean that all that happened in the past was good, but it does mean that even the bad didn't happen outside the loving presence of God.

It is very hard to keep bringing all of our past under the light of gratitude. There are so many things about which we feel guilt and shame, so many things we simply wish has never happened. But each time we have the courage to look at "the all of it" and to look at it as God looks at it, our guilt becomes a happy guilt and our shame a happy shame because they have brought us to a deeper recondition of God's mercy, a stronger conviction of God's guidance, and a more radical commitment to a life in God's service.

Once all of our past is remembered in gratitude, we are free to be sent into the world to proclaim good news to others. ---Henri Nouwen, Here and Now

Ever since I can remember, I felt things too deeply.  My feelings and thoughts were so overwhelming, and constantly playing in my head and steadily getting louder and louder.  In high school, friends of mine invited me to a party and I had my first taste of beer.  I hated the taste of cheap beer, but a funny thing happened; I loved how alcohol made me feel, so I ended up drinking way too much that night, and threw up in the bathroom.  I mentally promised myself I would never drink this much again, but the next chance I got, I drank too much.  I realize now, I loved the feeling being drunk made me, it gave me a sense of ease and comfortable, and gave me relief from my intense feelings and thoughts.  As I grew older, I unknowingly fell into a pattern of pursuing external things to quiet my internal condition, whether it be a new job, a new location, or a new relationship.  

I thought I was making choices, but in reality I was chasing after the illusion of serenity and peace I found that night at the party.  Alcohol used to be called spirit, and I think there is something to that notion of being drunk on a substance and overcome or "drunk" through a spiritual experience. 

 

I chased false spirits and temporary spiritual experiences to escape my past.  In my college years, I often mediated to check out or bliss out, and idealized a mental/spiritual state, where everything would become easy.  

When I came to L'Arche GWDC in June 2011, on the surface it looked like I had everything together.  I had just graduated from a prestigious seminary and had a Masters of Divinity.  I was now a spiritual expert and far more than just an ordinary assistant.  However, on the inside I was falling apart.  I had not accepted the past, could not really live in the present, and the future looked like a burden to be endured.  

I was so critical of everything and everyone, even the very community that was providing a safe space for me to fall apart.  If you told me then that I would be grateful for the experience of unravelling at the seams and be slowly put together with a help of a community and a loving God, I would have told you to go "f*#k" yourself.  I was so bitter.  Somehow my life was not what it should be, and no one saw my potential.  Something was wrong, and it must be because I was a victim of life , my parents, friends, and even my L'Arche community were against me.  I could not distinguish from the truth and the false.  

Lucky for me, I hit a bottom, where I asked another person for help, which was an outer sign of an inner surrender to a power greater than me. I was in so much internal and some physical pain that I wa willing to try something else.  During this time, a spiritual friend told me to start writing 6 things I was grateful for everyday and text it to him.  Needless to say, I found it impossible to be grateful for anything, because everything pretty much sucked. But gradually I found things in my life that I as grateful for, even the unpleasant and sad feelings, because it meant I was living a life.  I have continued this practice for over three years and it's helped me tremendously live in a state of gratitude that Henri Nouwen described.  Somedays I fall short, but I make an attempt to move towards acceptance, and thus towards gratitude.

Little by little I am becoming a little more free, where the past no longer holds be back from the past.  I no longer live in the future to escape the here and now.  With God's help I can use all of my experiences to help others.

Today, I am grateful I was able to spend the day with my daughter and my brother, and I was able to communicate through a miscommunication with my wife. A few years ago I could not fathom having a real relationship with my brother, because I was so checked out and absent in the lives of the people who loved me.  I also was uable to talk through my feelings with another human being, and today I am able to talk and be vulnerable with another person without totally shutting down.  These are small tangible signs of saying yes to what Fr. Henri called "radical commitment to a life in God's service."  I have learned that commitment is not a grand ideal or gestures, but saying yes to tiny little moments that draw us towards true connection.  Real connections can be frightening, because it means we allow others to truly see us as we are.  I know I still struggle with believing that I am deserving of love, but when I connect to a loving God, my heart is able to welcome everything as a free gift with deep gratitude.

Unlearning and Learning

"You must unlearn what you have learned," and

"Always pass on what you have learned."

--Yoda

I always found great wisdom coming out of a green puppet in the voice and movements of puppeteer Frank Oz, who also brought Fuzzy Bear to life.  Instead of a puppet, or as the cute yet grumpy green alien of Star Wars, I think of Yoda as a Taoist sage.  Like all other great sages, Yoda speaks in paradoxes and more lies in how he is being than all his sayings and doings.  

Chuck C. wrote in his book, New Pair of Glasses, that the spiritual journey is about "uncovering, discovering, and discarding."  A lot of healing can take place in unlearning or discarding the negative messages we learned as children.  We are also bombarded with an unconscious so i message that our value lies in what we can produce, and not on who we are and how we are being.  The journey of unlearning can thus teach us a lot, and them we can pass on that experience of unlearning to someone else.  In the process of unlearning and discarding some of my old stories, I have learned more and more that I do not have to earn someone's love.  I am loved for me with all my failings, weakness, and strength.  

My wife and I are currently about to embark in radical adventure.  She will be going back to work full time and in two weeks I will stay home and take care of our 2 month year old daughter.  I am really happy with this decision, but I had some butterflies in my stomach as I handed in my 2 weeks notice today.  Who am I as a man if I am not providing financially for my family?  I realize that within that question lies assumptions and values that predate my existence, and it assumes that "work" or being present to someone you love is less valuable than earning a pay check.  I am grateful that some of the unlearning I had to do I discovered at L'Arche, where I experienced a community where a human life is valuable not for his/her capacity for production, but for the natural human need for giving and receiving love.  Some people call L'Arche, the school of the heart; at a L'Arche home I uncovered my own brokenness, and discovered that it's ok to be human.  No community is perfect, but it was a place that helped me grow with its own failings and strengths.  

 I hope my journey with my community of my daughter and my wife will help me be a more full and whole person.  I am also grateful for other communities that I am part of that hold me in the Light.

Transformation

"Nobody knows how the kindling flame of life and power leaps from one life to another. What is the magic quality in a person which instantly awakens faith? You listen to a hundred persons unmoved and unchanged: you hear a few quiet words from the man with the kindling torch and you suddenly discover what life means for you forevermore."--Rufus Jones, Quaker historian, theologian and philosopher (Rufus Jones: Essential writings by Rufus Jones, Kerry Walters).

Jones puts words to a subject that I've pondered about, what makes people change?  My friend HyunSoak pointed out in seminary that he knew a church member that prayed and prayed, but she never seemed to change.  How does faith awaken that radically changes someone from the inside out?

My own experience of inner and outer transformation came not out of choice, but out of necessity.  I was in a deep place of pain, and either I could give up my life all together or choose to change.  It did not hurt that I fell apart at a faith community called L'Arche in DC, where I found a safe place in which to fall apart.

I choose to incorporate some time of silence and solitude to ignite the "kindling flame."  On most days, I barely feel a spark let alone a flame.  It has been more difficult to make time for silence and solitude as I welcome our almost 2 months old daughter.  How do I awaken faith in the midst of my very ordinary life?  I hope to uncover and discover this as I keep experiencing life and writing about it.

Getting Current

I started this blog when I lived in L'Arche GWDC, while I was a practicing Catholic.  I am still drawn to contemplatives and mystics of the Catholic Church, but I am also drawn to mystics of other Christian traditions and other faith traditions as well.

I am currently a practicing Quaker (Religious Society of Friends).  I now live in Richmond, VA.  A lots changed and I hope to update this blog more regularly both for myself, and for whoever my experiences can be helpful to.  Thank you for reading.