Show Me!

When I step out on to my deck, I say to the world, “Show me!” My sudden presence is intrusive so the world, those parts of it which can move, scurry or fly away. The blossoms, petals, and leaves remain mute. It is only when I sit quietly and observe the world shows itself. The essence of the lilacs drifts and is suddenly filling my head. The robins fly close in and dart from perch to perch, from the roof to the rocks, to first this tree and then another. They hop right up to where I sit, pecking here, looking there before fluttering to another place that might have the promise of a worm or bug. A large male crash flies through the leaves of the apple tree causing spent blossoms to flutter away and down to the ground. He grabs a branch, looks down at me and breaks into song. He is just a few feet away and when he tips his head back to sing and I can literally see is throat. I wonder how his voice works. He doesn’t care about my watching. His song is not meant for me but I still take it as my own.

My world shows itself to me and lets me hear it sing but only if I am still and my presence quiet and respectful. The wind shifts a little and the aroma of wetness from the garden as my wife waters her newly planted seedlings and plantings. It is a subtle presence, gentle but still there and very real.

Robins and smaller birds, flutter, and flitter around the fountain. They fly close to the water falling into the lower barrel and wet themselves and flap their wings. The breeze, what little there is, fades to stillness. The robins seem extra active this morning but it occurs to me that it is more likely that I am extra attentive.

The air is still chilled but there is a promise of warmth as the sun creeps up over the eastern hills. The clouds float by overhead. They are flying rapidly, driven by the higher winds aloft. They are flat and torn into pieces of cotton with gray-tinged bottoms. They signal an approaching front which is likely to arrive this afternoon. My fingers have grown cold even as I type. A robin lands at my feet and looks right at me and questioningly cocks her head to the left and then right as if asking me a question. Frustrated at my lack of response she hops away and pecks the gravel a couple of times and then flies off.

This world of mine is always here, is always present. The trees stand mute. The grass grows greener and taller by the hour. The blooms, blossoms and leave roll open and spread out to take their part in the procession life. I am always here too but seldom present. I often think about my world and dream about being in it but it is rare for me to take the time. I am present now. I am in the world and it has shown itself to me. It is singing to me. It feels my senses with a physical essence of reality to which I am only a visitor but never a resident.

I am calm, but like my cat, trapped inside by the patio door, I yearn for more. I feel a sense of loss. There is no good reason but the feeling remains. Calm without peace is sad when I am surrounded by a world created for me and for which I was created. I pray for peace. The answer is in the breeze because I know that is where God’s voice is heard.  Maybe I should sit and listen more, for just a little longer. Maybe I will hear him answer.

Chapter 7 part 9 June 3

The fifth degree of humility is that he hide from his Abbot none of the evil thoughts that enter his heart or the sins committed in secret, but that he humbly confess them. The Scripture urges us to this when it says, "Reveal your way to the Lord and hope in Him" (Ps. 36[37]:5) and again, "Confess to the Lord, for He is good, for His mercy endures forever" (Ps. 105[106]:1). And the Prophet likewise says, "My offense I have made known to You, and my iniquities I have not covered up. I said: 'I will declare against myself my iniquities to the Lord;' and 'You forgave the wickedness of my heart'" (Ps. 31[32]:5).

The concept of regular, routine , perhaps even daily, confession was new in this period, a gift of the Irish monks of the 5th century. I have not made a thorough confession for several months and in recent days it has been on my mind. We are nearing the time when many priests move to new assignments so things are in turmoil. The priest I would most likely use is still buried with the role of administrator in the absence of a bishop. If Monsignor were sitting here, however, as I type this, he would be the first to say that his being busy is his problem and I should call an make an appointment.

I have never really gotten used to the idea of a quick Saturday morning oil change type confession. Again, if he were here, he would that is my problem, not his and he would point his finger toward the line. "Go wait your turn and get ready while you wait," he would say with some forcefulness.

There is some mitigation because I frequently complete a personal examination of conscience but while it has great value and is vital daily spiritual exercise, there is no substitute for spilling it to another man. 

In recent months I have made a great effort to free myself of some unproductive or even unhealthy practices. Even though most are well behind me, they linger on like burrs clinging to my pant legs and socks after a long walk in weedy grass. I suspect I need help in finding them all and maybe there are some ticks that need to be pointed out for removal as well.

For the moment I will take solace in knowing that humbly, (there is that word again) confessing with heartfelt, sincere remorse followed by an effort to make amends and to mend my ways can also work wonders when you can string together a few days of successful effort.

Chapter 7 part 8 June 2

The fourth degree of humility is that he hold fast to patience with a silent mind when in this obedience he meets with difficulties and contradictions and even any kind of injustice, enduring all without growing weary or running away. For the Scripture says, "The one who perseveres to the end, is the one who shall be saved" (Matt. 10:22); and again "Let your heart take courage, and wait for the Lord" (Ps. 26[27]:14)! And to show how those who are faithful ought to endure all things, however contrary, for the Lord, the Scripture says in the person of the suffering, "For Your sake we are put to death all the day long; we are considered as sheep marked for slaughter" (Ps. 43[44]:22; Rom. 8:36). Then, secure in their hope of a divine recompense, they go on with joy to declare, "But in all these trials we conquer, through Him who has granted us His love" (Rom. 8:37). Again, in another place the Scripture says, "You have tested us, O God; You have tried us as silver is tried, by fire; You have brought us into a snare; You have laid afflictions on our back" (Ps. 65[66]:10-11). And to show that we ought to be under a Superior, it goes on to say, "You have set men over our heads" (Ps. 65[66]:12). Moreover, by their patience those faithful ones fulfill the Lord's command in adversities and injuries: when struck on one cheek, they offer the other; when deprived of their tunic, they surrender also their cloak; when forced to go a mile, they go two; with the Apostle Paul they bear with false brethren (2 Cor. 11:26) and bless those who curse them (1 Cor. 4:12).

To hold past to patience with a silent mind when we meet difficulties and contradictions immediate brings to mind my least favorite precept in the Big Book of AA. It states that if I become angry or upset, regardless of of the cause, the problem is with me, not another. Being robbed of the ability to engage in good old fashioned self righteous anger is real steamer. There are times when we don’t have to be wrong, when we should be right, where we are, by dang, right. Benedict in the 4th rule of humility, says the same thing. Even when wronged, stay peaceful and endure the injustice.

There is no doubt I would rather be sober than engage in a vengeful reaction to being wronged, regardless of the nature of the wrong. To lose sobriety would far worse than to lose whatever else might have been lost. The outcome of not yielding to anger and upset is the ability, in the thoughts of Benedict, to maintain peace in a storm or loss or adversity. Sobriety requires peace, peace nourishes sobriety. Without peace, I have nothing.

Nice words. Now lets make it real.