Essays
Some Are Evergreen
Read moreI’m still sorting through a lot of old files and letters; I wrote this from New York in 1999.
It is Sunday morning, the last day of October. Somewhere in the city beyond (and beyond the city) one Person is awake and thinking; he wants to build a shelf for the closet—his Wife has too many hats. One Woman has forgotten where she put her slippers; her dog remembers, though he tears one slightly at a seam. One Man is lifting up a potted plant for the Lady across the counter; His Father was a florist in Brussels. One Minister is Praying over his sermon; some of the youth will not appreciate it, some of the deacons disapprove, some of the elders speak thoughtlessly over coffee—one Woman and two Men will change the direction of their lives. One Boy is waiting in the hamper to frighten his Sister when she walks into the room; their Parents work late and sleep still. One Father Kisses his Wife and Daughter good morning; he has to work today at his newsstand. One Man is cold on the sidewalk with a group of Friends, their breath steams with the life of speaking. Outside their windows this river flowing by becomes quickly an ocean—carrying leaves from the front of my window. All my faceless leaves and these People who are formless from this room, yet speak and pray or remain silent—these fragments form a whole of unknown parts. Someone rings a bell in the distance. All those people are happening at this one moment; their actions and decisions behind those actions move them along to the next moment…the next, the next, yet they are all here in this one space of time. My fingers tap out words for them and the next moment comes.Speaking from the silence
Read moreI attended Quaker meeting this morning; somewhere down the street a group of high spirited people had either a very late night party from Saturday or an early start to this evening. As we Quakers attempted to sit in silence, our neighbors worshiped to techno and modern ballads (there was a story about questing for ‘booty’…perhaps something involving pirates).
Freedom from want
Read moreThere are two contradictory maxims enshrined in ‘our’ world:
- It is my purpose to desire and acquire more,
- I am free from material responsibility.
Last month, I spotted the sign above in a Sydney clothing store. It’s the hybrid of these two statements; but like many man-made hybrids, it can’t live at ease with itself and carries its own maladies.
Voices of the Living and the Dead
Read moreThese 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.
Passive Voice, Active Voice
Read moreI’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.Spiritual Autobiography
Read moreThis 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.