fall - a poem

nothing to sing of,
no new stanza of song
comes to mind at the end of the day
no whipporwhil whistles a tune

and the day has become shorter
as fall is coming into season
the sun to return to it's sea
beneath the southern globe

where the tree once blazed in light
it now casts a longer shadow
and the northern exposure
of moss has become wet with dew

and the night lists quietly
the cicada song has ceased
nothing but locust shells
dot the tree trunk with it's limbs

and finally as the moon arcs above
i see the waxing cresent announce gain
and wonder at the ancient light
that can light the newest path

poetry break

Like a lost beached sea turtle
Under the beam of the pulling moon
Torn by a tide that obeys secret laws
That follows this path of all possibilties

Or now a bush in the understory
Branch touching the leafy tree
The thrush below unpleasant, the light
Above effervescent…

The twinkle of light through the branches
Dappling all it touches with glowing orange
Sparkles now on my skin, white as ivory
Seeing everything beneath the tree….

Or best a galapagos turtle
Running across the beach for it’s life
Eye on the tide, ignoring the prey birds
Circling from above

But we are no different, not alone
in our striving, our loneliness, our very lives
speak to the fact though we wander, we are not alone
and though we strike our own arc, we are held
by the same compass…

A Prayer - A Poem

Perhaps it was the wings of the dove

Beating the airs and conquering them,

Able to move from Heaven to Earth

And returning again with ease,

I sat in an open air temple once

Squared in a great expanse,

Walls but four feet high

With no roof, just the vaulted dome

In the nave, a sculptured dove

Graced the altar of stone

Beneath an inverted flower-bud

Which cast the shadow of a mature Rose

And there in the shadow of the Rose

I made my silent prayer

I prayed for understanding and Peace

Perhaps ignorant one could have both

And just as the boundary walls

Marked off the sacred territory

From the surrounding wild countryside

And the Rose’s shadow caught my supplication...

My prayer vanished into the ether

The vast dome Round,

And I had faith it had reached it’s destination

As a child can find his way home…

An Answer to the 'New Atheism'

New Atheism is not to be confused with classic Atheism of the stripe of Iris Murdoch or other older classical authors. New Atheism, as opposed to classic Atheism, is characterized by dogmatism, polemic and as the author shows throughout this book, uncritical thinking which has devolved into brute force and name calling.

While Alister McGrath gives plenty of leg room for the classic Atheistic writers, showing them respect for their open minded and open handed approach to their world view; where they respect the opinions and arguments of their recognized Christian or Theistic peers, Mr. McGrath shows in short order the New Atheists, namely the 'Four Horsemen' consisting of Richard Dawkins, Christopher Hitchens, Sam Harris and Daniel Dennett, can be characterized finally as foaming at the mouth dogmatists...exactly what they accuse those of a more religious stripe to be.

Mr. McGrath has read their books and studied the online communities of New Atheism for years now, and is well equipped to answer questions this rather new (and ultimately quickly dying out movement in my view) has raised.

Specifically, the author shows the leaders of the New Atheism appeal to Science and Rationality, yet show gaping holes in their knowledges of either. Mr. McGrath takes us on a short cruise through the philosophy of Science, where we are shown there is a huge difference between those who practice Science (empiricists who recognize the limits of human reason and their Art), and those who proclaim Scientism....folks like the New Atheist who believe credulously Science is the ultimate saviour of mankind and is infallible practically. Most interesting in these chapters is Mr. McGrath's distinction between Proof and Truth. Proof, he maintains, is limited to the sphere of Logic and Mathematics, while Truth ultimately is what we (Atheists or Theists) believe, for what ever supporting Reasons we have.

A very quick read, but containing a liberal and broad minded approach to the tension between Faith and un-Faith, I highly recommend this book to any Believer or no.

a summer - a poem

there is now no summer
like the ones spent in the apple orchard
of the neighbor's yard, plucking fruit
from the succulent trees and vines
running through the greenery and brush
eating blueberries and wild strawberries
our clothing torn by the brambles
skin opened under scrapes and cuts
blood seeping like sweet water through the knees

...
and later in the fire-flied night, staring
at Orion, wandering to the Northern Star
finding the big dipper and beholding the milky way
it all revolving about some invisible axis
there before our eyes
...

and the taste of honeysuckle and persimmon
the sugar sweet and sour pucker of the wild fruit
taken too early, forever etched in the mind
...

there is now no summer
as the winter approaches no matter the season
with only the brisk fall at best, blasts of hope and promise
only keeping the body moving forward
where there once was technicolor, now only grayscale exists
with small glimpses of color
seeping through the edges...

rags - an original poem

if you were to ask for riches,
I would give you my rags,
that you would have the gift
that was given to me long ago

in the sackcloth of my heart
i was given ashes and grey
for to grieve in this world
is the only kindly response

that a bluejay lights on a limb
only to devour the worm
and a bee lights on the flower
to steal it's very life, the amber

is the law we have been given
and only those who deny this
truly come to deep sadness
and go beyond the mild melancholy


for just as the strawberry winter
robs Spring of it's coming
and the Summer still can rage in October
so in the deepest joy is there a hint of sadness
and in the darkest night, the hint of morning...

Falling Upward: A Spirituality for the Two Halves of Life by Richard Rohr

Mr. Rohr does us all a service with this gem by applying Jungian thought and Joseph Campbell mythology to spirituality. By doing so, he has tapped into a deeper strata of the religious life and requested we all take the Hero's Quest with him.

Beginning with the plight of Odysseus, (love the homeric reference material) Rohr highlights that the quest will be fraught with danger and temptation and will always be an invitation to go even further than what the initial task requires. Home is where the heart is, but alas, in this earthly sphere, we may never arrive!

'The Two Halves' refers to Jung's program of life, where in the first half, we build the Ego and secure a 'living'. There is more, however to this story, and oftentimes the unconscious pushes us into terra incognito...thrusts us into an initiation of maturity, that if heeded, brings a fuller, richer energy to the the Self, or the totality of the conscious Ego and unconscious Archetypes. And this journey, the journey of the Self is nothing, if not Archetypal and transpersonal.

Drawing from the great world Traditions, (not Christianity alone), Mr. Rohr effectively poses many prescient questions and even offers answers to boot.

Saint Francis (Christian Encounters Series) by Robert West

Archetypal Journey of a Saint - or A Story of Repentance Par Excellence!

St. Paul, on the road to Damascus, and having persecuted the new sect of Christians, was struck by a blinding Light and called to a new Life. Our Hero in this story, St. Francis of Assisi, on the road to Pelugia from Assisi to make war with the nobility and as a member of the mercantile class, was halted by a still quiet Voice.

I'm beginning to see a pattern here, methinks!

Radically different in their missions, the one to preach to the Gentiles, our Hero to eventually preach to the birds and minister to the poor, both seem to strike uncanny resemblances with one another in that they are leading a life, however unconsciously, that will take a radical shift in focus after a Salvific experience.

St. Francis, the author makes no bones about it, was quite the party boy. As the head dissolute youth of a band of epicurean to say the least, if not all out debauched crowd called the Sons of Babylon, and son of a wealthy fine cloth merchant, leads a proverbial life of the party existence. As the bankroller for one drinking party after another, he gains fame as a rounder and makes a name for himself among the hangers on who surround him.

With dreams of becoming a Knight that the troubadours sang of, St. Francis is taken captive and held in prison for a little over a year and of course falls ill as a result. In his dark hour, he is known to sing and make light of the situation, seeing beyond the bounds of an early medieval thirteenth century prison camp.

Upon being ransomed by his father, although he returns to the wild life of his youth for a few stints, St. Francis soon trades his chivalric cloaks and ornaments for the clothing of a beggar. Having dreamed he was in a palace and wed to a beautiful bride, our hero works out the betrothed is Poverty herself and soon finds himself making a pilgrimage to Rome in the garb of an impoverished monk.

I will leave off here, as the rest of the story is most widely known and appreciated by folks of many different faiths.

Wonderful portrait of a man who's destiny was to become a Saint.

A Hike Through Hoosier National Forest

d

Dylan (my son) and I went on an overnight hiking trip with our scouting troop this past weekend.  We arrived at the trailhead around 10:00 a.m. and hiked through Springs Valley Lake for around 3.2 miles.  There were many inclines and switchbacks along the way, and we all were carrying weighted down backpacks, of course.  We set up camp on a hill in the cedars and pines, where just when we got our tents pitched, the snow and sleet began to fall.  We ate spaghetti and meatballs m.r.e.s for dinner and hit the hay early.  The next morning, I was the first out of my tent.  Two inches had fallen overnight.  All was quiet.  I could see the lake below and the sky was still dark.  Then about a half an hour later, just as the sun came up, a flock of geese flew overhead, moving west to east.  The squawking and perfect formation was absolutely amazing.  We broke camp after eating our trail breakfasts and made it another 2 miles before arriving at our destination. to be picked up.  Again hilly terrain with switchbacks.  The picture above shows the dam that stretches the expanse of the lake we hiked over at trail's end.  The sun had come up, a wind was blowing east to west, and the water was absolutely glittering.  It was a time to reconnect both with Nature and my son and friends.  Wonderful.

The Essential Erasmus (Essentials) by Desiderius Erasmus

Handbook for the Militant Christian. Sounds off putting doesn't it? A call to arms to defeat some faceless infidel, a war cry to wage against the world? In a word, no.

In the last chapter, Erasmus makes no bones that we are to forgive those who harm us and love those who would do us ill. We should look to the Supreme Example, Christ, who died for a world that didn't accept Him, and in so doing gained the keys to the Kingdom. Revenge only deepens hurt and portends disaster, Erasmus lets us know on a more practical level. In seeking recompense for errors committed against us, we ironically only create more trouble for ourselves and not our 'enemy'.

In these words, I have not found a better voice that blends the best Pagan Wisdom with the Truth of the Revealed Word.

So who is the enemy? Earlier in the book, Erasmus lets us know it is the flesh. We have both an inner and outer man. The outer, connected to the world and all it's trappings, the possibilities of gluttony, drunkenness and lustful pursuits which only end in death, and that inner man, which is connected to things Spiritual, and Christ utmost. Clearly, as St. Paul stated, who is oft quoted here by the author, the flesh must be crucified. We must recognize another irony. That the more we deny the flesh, the more we flourish Spiritually.

Thoughts are given on how to flee temptation, where we are urged to reign in Vanity, Pride in order to live a simple, humble, Christian life.

Seneca wrote letters to a Stoic. Erasmus wrote this manual for a boy just being initiated into manhood.

What a resplendent re-capitulation of the Old World Wisdom during the Renaissance where the knowledges of Plato, Origen and Augustine could once again be remembered and carried forward to us here in the postmodern world.

A gem.

Ashera, Wife of Yahweh

Asherah, Wife of Yahweh

Psychology and Alchemy (Collected Works of C.G. Jung Vol.12) by Carl Gustav Jung

In the first half of this book, Jung uses the dream analysis of a mentally ill patient to draw conclusions based on what he calls universal archetypes. Jung flagrantly filters this person's dream symbolism through his own alchemical bias, where personally I could come up with all kinds of different interpretations that seemed to me just as valid. But I'm no Jung. So moving on. The flip side to the coin, for the first half, is you do get a nice exposure to the tenets of alchemy along with it's rich symbolism. It is up to the reader to decide if the trade off is worth it. Learning about alchemy, while doing so through what many may consider questionable means. There are two principles Jung brings out that I happen to agree with. The first is concerning the psyche. In the beginning of the book, Jung categorically states the psyche is ancient and pagan. The second principle I agree with deals with archetypes. Jung makes pains to say that just because he is focusing on the archetype, which he defines as an image, he is not denying an imprinter. So the door to objectivity is left at least slightyly ajar.

In the second half, Jung focuses on alchemy as a science that predated christianity, and that though it was pagan, it's motifs were certainly congruous with christian ideals. Parallels are drawn between the Virgin Mary and Prima Materia. Between a metal's blackening, whitening and sublimation to the philosopher's stone as the state of the christian soul through it's stages of redemption. In this section of the book, Jung characterizes the royal art as being objective and practical, but also subjective and spiritual. The author can't rid himself of the possibility that the earliest philosophers were projecting their unconsiousnesses into their art. He also brings out the gnostic feel of alchemy in that the art attempts to separate the pure spirit out of foul matter. Some readers may question his veracity as he states in one of his footnotes christianity actually was subsumed into gnosticism due to the presence of Simon Magus. This reader said 'what'? Also, alchemy is monadic in that the philosopher's stone comes out of one, becomes few, and is returned to one, now ennobled, higher state. Philosophically, monadism can lead to problems of it's own, and again, it is left to the reader's discrimination as to what to accept and reject.

The capstone, of course, is the epilogue. Jung finally tips his hand that he is a modern through and through and relegates the art to a purely subjective level. He hints that it is the the breadth of the modern psyche that as Auguste Comte said, poses such endless need and endless danger to ourselves. And in this, the pieces all fall neatly into place.

The Struggle between the Cathars, the Templars, and the Church of Rome - Otto Rahn

I give this first English translation of Rahn's book only four stars as opposed to five due to it's beginning, 'Parcifal'. A long, convoluted histriography of English and French noblemen is given that in short, to me, is bordering on the incomprehensible.
The text moves along, though, to the Cathars at the turn of the thirteenth century in the south of France. The 'pure ones' profess God is Love, and a Spirit, and that the Heaven we long for is beyond the stars. Flesh is separated from Spirit in man, resulting in a radical dualism that did not sit well with the Holy Mother Church. Gnosticism is present in their worldview as they look at the Old Testament God as evil, the one who enclosed the pure souls of men in foul matter. There is too much misery in the world, at the turn of their century to accept an all god Creator, benevolent and all knowing. A little sophistication is required to explain the harsh realities of day to day life. And theirs is the longing. The longing for something 'other', something greater than flesh and blood and ultimately transcendent.
The Grail, a stone that fell from the sky, presumably this version being it was a jewel stone in the crown of Lucifer when he fell, is destined for the bowels of Mt. Tabor, home of the last Cathar castle in Montseg'ur.
Troubadors, steeped in Catharism and protectors of their near holy Minnes, are keepers of the oral tradition concerning the Grail. Specifically, Wolfram Von Eschenbach, in his version of Parcifal, is the real deal according to Rahn.
As in other Grail romances, the stone just appears, and is pre-christian. It's main miraculous power is to fill the serving bowls and goblets with food and wine.
The crusade spoken of in the title is the Catholic Church, and specifically Pope Innocent III, swearing to stamp out the hideous heresy fulminating in the south of France. Politically, Paris wants a unified France, and is the secular arm to the holy crusade against Catharism.
Much time is spent revealing the horrible methods of torture and killing in the name of stamping out the heresy. The Church certainly is not depicted as either 'Holy' or as a 'Mother', but rather a vehicle through which corrupt Popes realize their full capacity in obtaining every earthly power possible.
Heartbreaking.
Rahn's language, here translated, is lyrical and poetic in it's own right, highly reminiscent to me of Goethe with his Faust at times.
A very good read for those interested in history, mysticism, esotericism, or Gnosticism.

The Essential Titus Burckhardt: Reflections on Sacred Art, Faiths, and Civilizations (The Perennial Philosophy) by Titus Burckhardt

Titus Burckhardt, whether fixing his attention on the proper philosophy, or the proper architecture, or the proper occultism, brings a liberal yet formiddable intelligence to whichever of these works he sets his hand to.
Burckhardt, when laying out a sacred temple, would have it oriented north-south with one door leading in and one door leading out, ensuring it's earthly and squarely relationship to it's heavenly and circular origin. The language and ideas both sound archaic due to a radical loss of traditional forms and even degenerate customs to the point that what is old now sounds new. Burckhardt, I'm sure, would delight in such a circular manifestation of tradition. In a society where number has lost it's gender, where sacred art has lost it's object, and philosophy it's inner meaning, Burckhardt's plaintive sentences recall all of this and brings the perennial philosophy to bear in many of it's traditional manifestations. This philosophy, this perennialism is shown by virtue of man's loss of meaning when he attempts to abandon it, quite simply will not go away. Or will it?

The Golden Thread: The Ageless Wisdom of the Western Mystery Traditions by Joscelyn Godwin

In modern Western society, we take it for granted what is real lies outside ourselves and is objective, substantial. Highlighted by Plato, however, the 'Real' was subjective and consisted of ideas...the world then emanated from Mind. Living in Alice's Wonderland, us Westerns have lost grasp of this vital Truth and have spent centuries chasing various rabbits down various holes. Comical. Beginning with Orpheus, Godwin traces this perennial philosophy through such luminaries as Pythagoras and Plato, highlighting how each added their own nuances to the Idealistic Philosophy. A wonderful read for anyone seeking a good introduction to Platonic philosophy and before, as well as for those with more esoteric interests.