Edge of Somewhere: Journal

Voices of the Living and the Dead

These past days, since I wrote my last post, I’ve further considered the active voice, what is it that I have to say and how can I equip others to speak their stories? I am, at this moment, the most equipped I’ve ever been to do this. In my ‘day job’ at the Teachers Federation I’ve created a full production suite and recording studio. This will allow me to pull in all manner of interesting folks and amplify the stories they have to tell. Also, my wife Penny and I live in Sydney and her work connects with (and connects) people working in and experiencing the pivot points of social change (see joiningthedots for more).

I wrote my dissertation on the concept of stewardship. Stewardship is this all encompassing idea (it must be, we cannot rightly be stewards of only one part of nature or culture; the neglect of anything touches on everything else). I’m considering what I hold in my own stewardship. I read this morning an essay by Jay Allison on Transom.org. Jay has become an of Elder of Stewards for National Public Radio and writes here about holding in care the actual voices of people:

I co-produced the wonderful series Lost and Found Sound with my friends the Kitchen Sisters. Sometimes, I would listen all day to the voices of dead people. The listeners who would call our Quest for Sound line would describe their old tape or phonograph or whatever contained the voice of their loved one and say, “It’s all I have left,” as if it were an actual part of the person, full of life and breath. And in a way, it was. The connection to the remaining voice is not at all like a photograph, it’s much deeper. Sound has the ghostly power to enter our bodies, unbidden.

The playwright Marsha Norman talks about a time after her husband died, finding a plastic blow-up beach ball in the back of the closet and realizing it contained her husband’s breath. That resonates with me. It reminds me of the kind of power we hold in our medium.

There is something about our voices, the sounds that we make and take for granted. Each breath has so much potential for changing the course of a conversation—or in different circumstances, the course of a life or the lives of many. Breath and spirit have the same root in Greek, pneuma (yes, I did pay some attention in that one semester of Greek). I’m considering making a sign or writing this to people before they come in my studio. The breath you take in and give out here is an expression of your spirit. You breathe in and live; what you exhale speaks from your soul. I record our voices here in this place and the spirit of this will resonate out from here—and may for years to come.

It’s easy to get caught up in the technicalities of this stewardship (the stewarding of expression and spirit). I’ve taken time to pick out the right microphones, amplifiers with glowing tubes, and made diagrams of how to connect one box to another. But I must take greater care to get caught up holding on to the spirits of those who come into this space, to go beyond the mechanism and into a realm where we can encounter one another and the real substance of the moment we share.

I know that this sounds almost preposterous as the balance of what we discuss is the political activity of a trade union. Most of the people who step into the studio aren’t there to speak from the spirit and share our connection with the Universe. But I think that has to be my intent, otherwise I’ll just sit in a box recording people reading off lists of legal advice and oppositional statements to government decisions. I have to have the presence of mind and spirit to bring it somewhere deeper.

Also, this is again the ‘day job’, I realise that I need to build a body of work separate to this as well. Not so much for professional reasons, but to keep my spirit connected and grounded to other matters that are important. I have to be a steward of the opportunities I’m given in all aspects of life—and hold them for those who will listen.

Journal • 27 November 2011 Comment

Passive Voice, Active Voice

I’m considering my voice—not my physical voice, but my ability to speak out to others and what means I have at hand to do so. I am, by nature, a quiet person and usually reluctant to speak or intervene. This might not readily change; I don’t think I’ll ever be the ‘in your face’ contender out on the frontline. But I do need to understand the bounds and abilities of my voice and use it wisely.

Last week I read several news articles relating to weapons, war, video games (playing at war) and the general glorification of violence as a social norm. I think we need to pause for consideration when a new battle simulation video game garners nearly $800 million in its first two days of sale in a time when there is such a need for the ending of wars and fostering peace. I know video games are the easy end of the spectrum to speak about, ‘oh, you know what happens when kids play those violent video games’. I’m not sure I do; but, regardless of what the games in themselves encourage in people’s minds, I do know that ‘actual war’ is increasingly engaged through the medium of a computer screen rather than in person. There are still troops on the ground facing real risk; but the movement is toward a sterile press the button and the figures on the screen are dead warfare. One of the other articles I read last week was about a new cruise missile in the US that can be launched from the States and basically target anything in the world within an hour. Soon, like an online multiplayer game, our wars may be fought by telecommuters at home in their socks.

Which brings me back to voice; I am, at this very moment, sitting at home in my socks. What havoc for peace might I bring from here? What is the balance of what I can and can’t do with these tools at hand? I don’t want that to sound like dithering as I am actually aware of what can be accomplished. It’s more a question of what is the next action and then the next. I know that, in the face of these conflicts we hear about abroad (and at home), that one voice may seem moot. But this is no reason or excuse not to speak (that’s been said over and again—one voice does make a difference when raised up in a chorus of others). I stood and spoke at Meeting on Sunday saying, It is neither weapons nor the glorification of violence that are evil’s most potent tools; war is best served by the apathy of those who do nothing to speak against it. That is the crux of it, if nothing else it is put upon me to speak what I may in the way open to me.

I interviewed John Michaelis, the editor of Quaker Voice on Wednesday at the Devonshire Street Meeting House here in Surry Hills. Quaker Voice will be (it’s still in the works) an online forum for ‘Quakers and likeminded people’ around the world to speak out and discern social issues where they are. It will be a conversation where that first person voice of real people on the ground is shared with others of concern (rather the opposite of digitally mediated warfare). I’ve just edited the interview with John and you can listen here:

Quaker Voice Devonshire Street Interview by quietamerican

Words from the wedding

My sincere apologies for not updating this site for so long; Penny and I have been married for nearly a month now and, hopefully, as things come to some sense of normalcy here in Sydney, I’ll write more regularly here.

This is my ‘teachable moment’ from the wedding. The minister did not give a message; in lieu of a sermon, Penny and I both shared reflections. I’ll post more from the wedding in the incoming week.

I’d like to speak specifically about the love that is shared between Penny and I. I choose these words carefully. We share a love; it’s not just a single ended love that one or the other of us has. It’s a mutual activity, something that we co-create together. Also, it is between us. It’s both a bond and a buffer. Something about who we are as individuals has drawn us together and holds us in love; but there is also something about love that protects us from bumping in to one another. I’m discovering the equilibrium in love that keeps everything in balance.

I’m going to borrow one of Penny’s favourite phrases here and say that our love may be in a space between; it’s not wholly contained in either one of us but lives in that miraculous place that brings us together. I don’t think that image diminishes the love we have within us at all or separates out love as something outside us. But it makes love something that is not dependent on us; it speaks of love as something more expansive than either one of us could make personally. Love is that unseen matter that does not really collide with the material stuff in the universe. It goes into and through through everything. It infuses us with an energy that is real but is also beyond something we can simply manipulate.

I know that each of us experiences love as something that ebbs and flows; that sometimes it seems stronger…or sometimes that person seems more distant. But if love is that energy between, that underlying force that joins us, then, in a sense, nothing we do really effects it. It’s just our sense of where we are in the connection to it. In The Prophet, Kahlil Gibran writes:

When you love you should not say,
‘God is in my heart,’ but rather, ‘I am in the heart of God.’
And think not you can direct the course of love,
for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course…
Love one another but make not a bond of love:
Let it rather be a moving sea between the moving shores of your souls.
and give your hearts, but not into each other’s keeping.
For only the hands of life can contain your hearts…
You were born together and together you shall be forevermore.

We are both impressed with the fact that, considering all the span of time and geography that could have separated us, there was some larger activity of the universe that brought us together. That there was something about the bond between us that reached across all that. That’s tied to our own actions; but it’s more a matter of destiny than decision. When I was back in the States and we were lamenting the physical distance between us, we said that we could have just as easily been born in different centuries. But somehow, that pervading force of love that brought us together found every right moment and guided all the decisions that brought us to this day. Not just our decisions, but, in a sense, all the decisions that you have made as well. In some way, most of you have had a part in the forming of love here.

Everything we each do ripples out into and intertwines with that force of love between us all. We are entering into a marriage where we have the opportunity to ask, ‘how am I building this energy of love between us?’ I hope that, for each of us, we can ask ourselves that question in every dealing we have with others. That we can ask what is the need that others have for love in this world and how can we be a presence of love to those in need.

Journal • 17 April 2011 Comment

Jim Borling Interview

I’m starting to post some podcasts from this year’s BuildaBridge Institute. Here is a ten minute interview with art therapist Jim Borling.

Listen to the .mp3 by clicking on this link.

Podcasts • Journal 24 December 2010 Comment

Spiritual Autobiography

This is simultaneously an ideal and what I’m attempting to live out in this life. I am not always so sure of the reality of it; but I must affirm something and strive to keep it true. I hope for nothing less than to fully discover humanity and spirituality in this—though that discovery is sometimes painful if it’s complete. I speak below about scars and wounds, about how I heal and want to heal others. But it’s becoming clear to me that the deepest scars are those self-inflicted ones and the wounds we must first heal in others are those we have given them. Otherwise, these are all just pleasant words on a page. A spirituality that lacks that awareness and action is wholly destructive.

At one time, not so long ago, I would have described myself as a religious person. I was comfortable in that—not really proud or self-righteous, I just felt that God had blessed me by putting me in with the right people (it was a faith of polarities; everyone else was obviously wrong). I was at a time in my life where I needed physical and psychological order. I wanted to be in a place where I knew exactly what was expected of me and how others would react and behave in any given situation. This is something I’ve realised in retrospect and, had I known and been able to discern the underlying motivations at the time, I may have made different decisions. However, these were the decisions of dogmatic youth and perhaps to be expected in the life of a seeker.

I was soured and would even say scarred by my experiences with a presentation of Christianity in a specific cultural and historical context. I have had enough time to reflect and observe that my experiences are not unique, though they were my own. Though I was in what I would call a spiritually abusive environment, it was not so much ‘me’ that was wounded but my concept of God. I was not angry at God nor did I think the idea of Christianity is fruitless. I was just at a loss concerning how to genuinely integrate the religious structure presented to me into my own experience. I emerged from that time with a sorely tried expression of God in my life. Nonetheless, I realise the value of those experiences in opening up space for a genuine and personal reconnection to a world that is spiritual and present with me.

I see, rather than lost time in the past, these experiences as preparatory to the present. I would not be able to comprehend as much now without such a personal history. Thankfully, I’ve been blessed with shepherds along the way who have seen what’s truly happening and have guided me gently from one threshold to the other. My perception of God and my connection to spirituality is now far beyond the box once provided. That’s not to say ‘better than’ or even more ‘right’; it is, simply, the truth of the experience I have had and the response I must make to be alive and growing.

Two things happened as I began to travel extensively outside the US. One, I realised that there were other Christians in the world and, behold, they had different thoughts about the living the Christian life. Two, there were people of other religions (who I had always thought of as The Other) who seemed to have a genuine connection with God and an understanding of their own spiritual lives. What’s more is that I saw interactions between these two groups; the other kinds of Christians were connecting with The Others in ways which I had not thought possible (or, frankly, right).

What I began to see was that my own understanding, or more properly the understanding thrust upon me that I accepted, limited legitimate connections with other people (it was some time before I realised that it also hindered connections with my own spiritual self). The prejudices ingrained in my understanding of other expressions of Christianity, let alone other faiths, placed a cap on my perceptions. I had, prior to this, a severe self-limiting filter that would quickly dismiss anything that was not in line with my own beliefs and methods of faith. Travel, a complete removal from the cultural and religious atmosphere I was accustomed to, made this all apparent.

However, I did not come to a crisis point where I was faced with a decision to move from one system to another; this has been a journey along a wide arc of belief and personal understanding. Also, I have not embraced any particular ‘system’ that wholesale replaces my previous one. I have come to a place that, while I still cannot fully articulate a definitive statement of faith or list of doctrines, I feel more balanced and fulfilled than ever before. Indeed, I don’t feel it necessary to quantify an exact list of these things or match them up against any other. Rather than living by the dictates of a particular denomination or creed, I am attempting to be present with my spirit and the connection with a larger truth that may be beyond ready definition. That’s not to say that faith is ambiguous or that I’m ambivalent about truth; but I believe there is more to what is true than what any one group of people can codify.

God makes a statement of existence in the Old Testament, ‘I AM’. It’s a statement of complete connection; there is no separation of physical and spiritual perception. It’s both a statement of the present and statement of presence; God is present in the moment that ‘is’ and coming to understand this has given me the insight that there is no separation between ‘my’ spirit and ‘your’ spirit (or, ‘us’ and ‘I AM’ for that matter). Essentially, I believe our spirit is; there is a dynamic part related to our understanding of it and that changes over time. But our spirit is not a ‘thing’ that is built like a house. Our experience of the spiritual is a matter of connection or disconnection.

This is not an easy stance to have. It’s not the ‘anything goes’ spirituality that is so derided in any given religious community; that explanation is too simplistic. It’s only now, after a decade or so of living this through, that I am at peace with it. I’m not entirely sure I would still describe myself as a ‘Christian’ in the sense that is generally accepted. I find myself increasingly distanced from the ideals that are promoted by ‘Christians’. However, if I can make the distinction, I’m more open now than ever to the emergence of Christ in me. This emergence is something I meditate upon daily and hold at the forefront of my everyday experience.

About four yeas ago, I discovered that a maternal ancestor was one of the founders of Quakerism in America. as I began to research and read about Quaker thought, the path of spirituality presented there resonated with me. It was as if the principles were long dormant and emerged when called upon. What I find so compelling about Quaker practice is the almost complete dissuasion from forming dogma. There is discussion surrounding the meeting, but the meeting itself is not to promote a certain set of beliefs or an agenda. It’s an experience where one can be let alone, yet it’s also meeting with the God in each other—the God presence in community. Quakers seek to ‘see that of God’ in others; this is a positive affirmation of the Divinity present in us all rather than a refutation of what others may or may not believe. After many years of holding to a belief that others must acknowledge a god in the shape my people have made, I’m glad to find a way to see the expression of God in every person.

I once saw spiritual growth as a tiered system; one day, I might hope to achieve some advanced level of saintliness with enough work and grace. I’m sure there is some lingering thought of that in my head; but my heart says something different now. I am on an open journey in which I hope there is no ‘ending’, just continued unfolding. I realise that we perceive linear time and the flow from one moment to the next. But there is another reality of spirit that I’ve caught glimpses of. It’s a reality in which the spirit is fully present in a whole and magnificent state; where we see each other as abundant and unlimited beings who are fully connected to the nature of the Universe and each other.

My greatest hope is to bring healing to myself and others through this connection. In my travels and experiences, I’ve met many people who are deeply hurting and wounded physically and spiritually. Though I carry scars myself, I’ve also been blessed with healing and an understanding of wounds. It’s through this that healing comes; Jung said, ‘only the wounded physician heals’. I feel called to be that for the people I encounter in whatever way I can. My name, Jason, means healer. I take that as both what I am called and my calling in this life.

Into-the-Fray • Journal 30 September 2010 Comment

The Spaces In-between

Penny Elsley at Westfield UMC from Jason Nicholas on Vimeo.

Here is Penny speaking in the Sunday service at a church we visited in New Jersey about a month ago. I’m struck in discussions with her about the way life brings us significant thresholds of understanding from things we ‘almost miss’ but that, in a moment, become significant.

Journal • 3 September 2010 Comment

Sacred Spaces

I had the wonderful opportunity to share time this week with Fuzz Kitto here in NYC. We found ourselves in The Riverside Church on Wednesday discussing the significance of sacred spaces. (The photo above was another sacred experience; Fuzz is a splendid cook).

Click here for an .mp3 clip from the conversation

Journal • Into-the-Fray 31 July 2010 Comment

Always coming and going

I’m befuddled by words; by their sparsity when called for and their sometimes overabundance. They are such potent packets of potential; a turn of a word can save souls or send everything into oblivion. I doubt I’ll ever be master of them and right now feel they may have bested me; but unlike a competition where there is a clear path from play to victory or loss, I can’t seem to understand the rules of the game. I feel like I have the wrong gear for the field I am on; that I may have injured another player and lack protection where an errant ball may strike sorely.

8 July…slowly finding the words that resolve the life that words sometimes abuse.

Journal • 6 July 2010 Comment

Institute 2010 Slideshow

BuildaBridge Institute 2010 from Jason Nicholas on Vimeo.

Journal • 19 June 2010 Comment

A year ago

A year ago today I nearly died; I’m still rejoicing in what life is and what it becomes.

Journal • 9 June 2010 Comment

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