this will be my final post
for the time being lent
i am deciding to forgo my
attachment to the blogosphere
undergoing a little selfdenial
as it were
yet i want to say that i read two
things this morning
in COMMONWEAL magazine
a catholic rag
the first was concerning the life and times of Max Jacob
a painter in Paris during the 1st and 2nd world wars
one of those animated artistic goofballs who
haunted cafes and galleries and bookstores
in the headiest time of Paris' life as a city
the 20th century
while there cavorting with the likes of
picasso gertrude stein and diaghelev
he took to drink and drugs and sex
sex it seems of any variety that would come along
but he also took to the catholic faith
and was one of those odd desperate souls who knew
the reception of the eucharist as often as possible
and it was said he was so devoutely catholic
and so constantly repentant of his sins
that he was thought to have saintly bearing
if only he wouldn't go out at night
and get wasted and laid all over again
Max Jacob took up refuge
in the benedictine abbey of San Benoit on the Loire
outside of Orleans
and it was there he found the meaning of his life
it seems at some point Max had a vision
and something in this vision told him
he was to be a follower of christ
his art his poetry his writings are considered
to be the essential link between symbolist styles
and surrealist styles he was i guess
a protosurrealist
until he was captured and shipped out
of france as a jew destined for auschwitz doom
he lived the life of a benedictine monk
attending prayer tending the garden
extending hospitality
and reading and praying in quiet
he found himself not by way of art
or political philosophy or behavioural temperament
but by placing himself in direct encounter
with the religious phenomenon that seeks
by its very nature to transcend the boxings
of nation culture temperament or politics
his last wish of being buried as a catholic
despite the political cause of his death
was granted
i'm interested in learning more about Max Jacob
The second article i read in the same catholic rag
was an interview with Dave Brubeck
who at 88 is still rippin it up on the piano
he's really ivory 88
Brubeck had been commissioned at one point
to compose a Mass setting for a church
but the priest in charge pointed out
that he had left out the Lord's Prayer
Brubeck resisted changing his score
for he believed he'd completed the work
one night he was in the caribbean with his wife
and he dreamed a full orchestra and chorus
rendition of the Lord's Prayer which he wrote down
as soon as he could
and then decided it was time to enter the Catholic Church
he claims in the interview that the progression
was as logical and simple as could be
now he's the great american advocate for
good music in church
a real important task for much of what passes
for music in catholic circles these days
is quite dreadful
so i'm swingin today
to the pianovibes of Dave Brubeck
and the inspiration of Max Jacob
i also recently finished
a novel written by KIRBY OLSON
the title - TEMPING
a very fine and humorous story
about schlepping through life
in abject uncertainty and
dare i say
bewilderment
i strongly support the avid reading
of such literary trash
it is good for the soul
and you will chuckle
that's the main thing
and perhaps i'll be back here
in six weeks time
every day's a year of trudging
through the desert once again
the 40 days of lent
every good pilgrimage begins with
ashes on the head
j
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Monday, February 16, 2009
the case for the nutcase
i've hit a wall of sorts
i've little or no interest in the world of blogging
i still go there once in awhile
almost everyday
but i find myself moving away quickly
to something more engaging
the steadiness of the guitar
the demands of the apple orchard
i began this whole thing by positing
that i would account for what i know
and how i know what i know
maybe i've used it all up
yet one has only to look closer
at one's life to realize
there are areas of knowledge
that have barely been touched
so i wish to address the immediacy
of a person i know
he will remain anonymous to most everyone
for the past three years now
i have been "mentoring" a man who
lives in a group home in a city near where
i live
once or twice a week we meet
for something to eat and conversation
i know this man because his mother
made a pleading request to my abbot
for someone in the community to "befriend"
her son and help him along his
tortured path
thus i became a sort of "paid friend"
and this never sat right with me
recently i have put myself in the position of
being his student
he makes a certain ardent
claim to being a language teacher
the fact that there are no students
does not alter the matter one bit
so i decided that instead of being a paid friend
i'd be a docile student and withstand the bombastic
and often times seemingly random linguistic escapades
into spanish (his background is solidly puerto rican)
an ordeal that inevitably becomes
a spitfire convolution into CHINESE complete
with bits of food and drool
not your ideal methodology
but hey the world is a classroom
the "relationship" ( a terribly overused word)
has been tumultuous and enjoyable
it occurs to me after pondering a recent post
over on AN EARTHLING WONDERS
regarding a brain hemorrhage
and an awareness of right-brain left-brain
activity that this man lives for the most part
in a right brain world
and thus he is by-and-large really out of touch
with the demands and expectations of the world
at one point i was trying to urge him to face up
to the experiences of his life
to acknowledge his history for what it truly is
and find there the clue as to why his life
has ended up the way it has
he countered this (the conversation took place over a few months)
with his approach to it all:
the past is the past
it has no bearing on how i live now
things happened but it doesn't effect the present
"i want to live for the future" is what he said
his idea of the future is having his own place
owning his own car
working the ideal job
and being a rock star
noble american goals i guess
the trouble comes when he is faced with surviving
in regards to any one of these "future" goals
he has proven himself completely incapable
of taking care of himself in matters of
basic hygeine
i once let him drive and was left with the feeling
that this guy would be dead in a week
dead or in jail
(jail is a place he has known quite well)
all efforts at work in the past few years
have ended abruptly
(the fact is he cannot concentrate
on anything but what interests him)
so the part of our self awareness which
critiques our being in the world
the left side of the brain
has little significance for him
he is generally delighted to know that he
exists on any given day
(although in fairness there are
some really very bad days)
and to play it all out in a sort of
stultified context
at the same time his knowledge
of some areas of life is impressive
he quotes thomas paine
he claims to be a devoted follower of the philosophy of ayn rand
( i have restrained myself from suggesting that
therein lies the problem)
he often quotes an unfinished sonnet
he composed for a girlfriend in college
he is constantly "grooving" to music
on his iPod
he takes piano lessons
he is fixated on a band by the name of TOTO
and Olivia Newton-John
and his knowledge in general of
pop music from the eighties is impressive
as well
he makes a strong claim to being
a teacher of chinese language
evidently he lived in TAIWAN
for a few years
and learned at least enough chinese
to make himself understood
by real chinese speaking people
(i've witnessed this)
the problem becomes that
every conversation inevitably becomes a
game of charades
an unstoppable immersion course
in chinese
what he does not seem to know
and this may be a salvific and sort of
necessary survival skill ( my judgment is still out
as to the veracity of psychological awareness)
what he does not know
is the formative nature of experience
be it good or bad
he does not seem to care that the
traumas of his life have molded his character
and that his trouble in making life work for him
stems from this ignorance
thus there is an epistemological disconnect
everything is present in the day at hand
the past is of no importance
the illusion (his inner vision)
of the future is what drives him on
the present is a mix of social welfare and
medication and the odd possibility that one day
he will be a rock star
with a wife and two kids and some dogs
in a pleasant suburb
(he's in his 40s now...how far away can the american dream be?)
my effort is to constantly
suspend judgment over this man
to know him and to accept
even the delusions
as horrendous as they may appear to me
and to decide that in many ways
his life is no more ridiculous
than anyone elses
the epistemological certainty that i maintain
is that i can do very little outside of
merely being present
to help or to change this man's life
i must accept it as a conundrum
life just keeps beating
its multi-rhythmic way
and i must also acknowledge in service to
the epistemological directions of this blog
that in knowing this man
i also come to know myself
in the ridiculous warp and woof
that will someday be a beautiful woven
flying carpet
i've little or no interest in the world of blogging
i still go there once in awhile
almost everyday
but i find myself moving away quickly
to something more engaging
the steadiness of the guitar
the demands of the apple orchard
i began this whole thing by positing
that i would account for what i know
and how i know what i know
maybe i've used it all up
yet one has only to look closer
at one's life to realize
there are areas of knowledge
that have barely been touched
so i wish to address the immediacy
of a person i know
he will remain anonymous to most everyone
for the past three years now
i have been "mentoring" a man who
lives in a group home in a city near where
i live
once or twice a week we meet
for something to eat and conversation
i know this man because his mother
made a pleading request to my abbot
for someone in the community to "befriend"
her son and help him along his
tortured path
thus i became a sort of "paid friend"
and this never sat right with me
recently i have put myself in the position of
being his student
he makes a certain ardent
claim to being a language teacher
the fact that there are no students
does not alter the matter one bit
so i decided that instead of being a paid friend
i'd be a docile student and withstand the bombastic
and often times seemingly random linguistic escapades
into spanish (his background is solidly puerto rican)
an ordeal that inevitably becomes
a spitfire convolution into CHINESE complete
with bits of food and drool
not your ideal methodology
but hey the world is a classroom
the "relationship" ( a terribly overused word)
has been tumultuous and enjoyable
it occurs to me after pondering a recent post
over on AN EARTHLING WONDERS
regarding a brain hemorrhage
and an awareness of right-brain left-brain
activity that this man lives for the most part
in a right brain world
and thus he is by-and-large really out of touch
with the demands and expectations of the world
at one point i was trying to urge him to face up
to the experiences of his life
to acknowledge his history for what it truly is
and find there the clue as to why his life
has ended up the way it has
he countered this (the conversation took place over a few months)
with his approach to it all:
the past is the past
it has no bearing on how i live now
things happened but it doesn't effect the present
"i want to live for the future" is what he said
his idea of the future is having his own place
owning his own car
working the ideal job
and being a rock star
noble american goals i guess
the trouble comes when he is faced with surviving
in regards to any one of these "future" goals
he has proven himself completely incapable
of taking care of himself in matters of
basic hygeine
i once let him drive and was left with the feeling
that this guy would be dead in a week
dead or in jail
(jail is a place he has known quite well)
all efforts at work in the past few years
have ended abruptly
(the fact is he cannot concentrate
on anything but what interests him)
so the part of our self awareness which
critiques our being in the world
the left side of the brain
has little significance for him
he is generally delighted to know that he
exists on any given day
(although in fairness there are
some really very bad days)
and to play it all out in a sort of
stultified context
at the same time his knowledge
of some areas of life is impressive
he quotes thomas paine
he claims to be a devoted follower of the philosophy of ayn rand
( i have restrained myself from suggesting that
therein lies the problem)
he often quotes an unfinished sonnet
he composed for a girlfriend in college
he is constantly "grooving" to music
on his iPod
he takes piano lessons
he is fixated on a band by the name of TOTO
and Olivia Newton-John
and his knowledge in general of
pop music from the eighties is impressive
as well
he makes a strong claim to being
a teacher of chinese language
evidently he lived in TAIWAN
for a few years
and learned at least enough chinese
to make himself understood
by real chinese speaking people
(i've witnessed this)
the problem becomes that
every conversation inevitably becomes a
game of charades
an unstoppable immersion course
in chinese
what he does not seem to know
and this may be a salvific and sort of
necessary survival skill ( my judgment is still out
as to the veracity of psychological awareness)
what he does not know
is the formative nature of experience
be it good or bad
he does not seem to care that the
traumas of his life have molded his character
and that his trouble in making life work for him
stems from this ignorance
thus there is an epistemological disconnect
everything is present in the day at hand
the past is of no importance
the illusion (his inner vision)
of the future is what drives him on
the present is a mix of social welfare and
medication and the odd possibility that one day
he will be a rock star
with a wife and two kids and some dogs
in a pleasant suburb
(he's in his 40s now...how far away can the american dream be?)
my effort is to constantly
suspend judgment over this man
to know him and to accept
even the delusions
as horrendous as they may appear to me
and to decide that in many ways
his life is no more ridiculous
than anyone elses
the epistemological certainty that i maintain
is that i can do very little outside of
merely being present
to help or to change this man's life
i must accept it as a conundrum
life just keeps beating
its multi-rhythmic way
and i must also acknowledge in service to
the epistemological directions of this blog
that in knowing this man
i also come to know myself
in the ridiculous warp and woof
that will someday be a beautiful woven
flying carpet
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
a new poem
No one speaks of the sculpture
standing now in the quadrangle courtyard-
Man and woman side by side- Parviz Tanavoli's
"The Poet and the Beloved of the King".
Her parts a large triangle locket
and two dainty ones above.
His a faucet complete with turnkey.
We've other things to think and speak about.
A death during Mass last week.
Blood starting near the old german crucifix
and ending with a monks' body prostrate
in the brothers' washroom.
We did not miss a beat.
The bell rang for supper at six sharp;
prayer and then the reading:
"Three Cups of Tea" by the climber named Mortenson-
all the while the responders milled about
assessing the expired corpse just outside
the refectory door.
All of this so daily before our eyes.
Because of him I learned to forgive more.
Together we know only that Fr. Bruce is dead.
We will bury him today - Feast of St. Scholastica.
His wine-spattered final dance no more desperate
than devastations of late winter.
john hanson osb
Feb.10, 2009
standing now in the quadrangle courtyard-
Man and woman side by side- Parviz Tanavoli's
"The Poet and the Beloved of the King".
Her parts a large triangle locket
and two dainty ones above.
His a faucet complete with turnkey.
We've other things to think and speak about.
A death during Mass last week.
Blood starting near the old german crucifix
and ending with a monks' body prostrate
in the brothers' washroom.
We did not miss a beat.
The bell rang for supper at six sharp;
prayer and then the reading:
"Three Cups of Tea" by the climber named Mortenson-
all the while the responders milled about
assessing the expired corpse just outside
the refectory door.
All of this so daily before our eyes.
Because of him I learned to forgive more.
Together we know only that Fr. Bruce is dead.
We will bury him today - Feast of St. Scholastica.
His wine-spattered final dance no more desperate
than devastations of late winter.
john hanson osb
Feb.10, 2009
Sunday, February 1, 2009
protestant for a day
a more apt appellation might be
slacker or luggard
for it being sunday i took
a complete vacation from church
i considered it any other day
by any self-respecting agnostic
or protestant who does not see
church attendance as compulsory
i go to church everyday
sometimes 3-4-5 times a day
and today the day that is
shortly ending for i see it is 11:59 pm
today i just sort of went hohum no church today
the day consisted of a journey to the airport
and aiding in the departure a holy family
a trio of irish tinkers surfers of the airstreams
glavanters on the planet
i their faithful commandant
considered it sufficient on the day
to serve these noble fools
and call that my church attendance for the day...
and in the tearful eyes of a woman i dearly love
i saw my own tears of joy and sadness...
a communion of sorts
i had communion proper at the table of a friend
in minneapolis
his wife prepared for me a sandwich
that was so simple and filling and elegant
and flavorful
a lamb-roll flattened with bricks and sliced
thin and savory
so much so
as to leave me sitting there in tears
tears of simple gratitude
and i told the story of a recent
event of trauma (and
now as i reflect)
managable human insanity
a story having to do with blood
and a gold chain with a little cross
and a ring on a bloody finger
a story of two lives coming together
over on LUTHERAN SURREALISM
there's some talk of "identity"
maybe i'll go over there
and think with my fingers
about it all
i am ignorant of the gospel today
until just now i went to the ORDO
the annual guidebook for liturgical practice
here in the monastery
i found the list of readings for the day
and read the gospel of MARK
CH 1 vss 21 - 28
the account of the expulsion of the evil spirit
and at this late hour i am given to reflection
as to how this story might relate to me
and the events of my life this past week
and perhaps what is to come in the coming week
i had an opportunity in the event to which i allude
the curious story of a bloody man
with a desire to fix a gold chain
and wear a ring
a story of a man with a severely cut thumb
who saw the unfolding of the event as
of no greater importance than anything else...
i had an opportunity to emulate jesus...
and ultimately i failed
the person in question saw the event
of a severd thumb as a mere nuisance...
whereas i saw it as a moment with insanity incarnate
a life out-of-whack
i see the person in question as one possessed
either of an actual spiritual daemonic force
or someone battling out the scars of
some form of neglect some lack of love along the way
when it was perhaps most necessary
i know for a fact that i cannot cast out the daemon
from the life of my hapless medicated friend
i refrain from giving him the social titles of
mentally ill or manic depressive or bipolar or
schizophrenic or retarded
socially challenged covers a wide swath
but then i thought to myself at one point
perhaps mental illnes is a form of survival
i offer this day now past
as one in communion with everyone
who did not go to church today
i was informed in a brief meeting
with a friend regarding the content
of the letter #1 to the Corinthians
in an intense moment of "family" for him
(who in fact had just returned from MASS
at his local church where he plays guitar)
i walked in and i represent immediately for him
the tension presented by PAUL regarding
the married and the celibate states
the moment of clarification came for him
when i could relate the fact that PAUL does not
regard married-family life as a less than acceptable path
he merely states it is bound to be harder
"why didn't you tell me that years ago!!!"...my friend calls...
and i realize i am in the midst of something intense in the family...
thus even while playing hooky from the
scheduled celebrations today i find my life
fully immersed in thoughts about the christian life
and the possibilities and the limitations therein
and then there's the brilliant and earthbasic
refection over on http://earthlingwonders.blogspot.com/
to keep my thinking sound and
my praying grounded
as i stumble and falter and pause
to breathe along the oftimes troublesome pilgrim trail
i returned from the journey in time to attend
SUNDAY VESPERS
but as i lay back in my bed i realized
"this is where i'm meant to be"
and i drifted off for five blissful hours
of unadulterated sleep
that was my VESPERS
i will face up to my problems
with the sound of the strings
slacker or luggard
for it being sunday i took
a complete vacation from church
i considered it any other day
by any self-respecting agnostic
or protestant who does not see
church attendance as compulsory
i go to church everyday
sometimes 3-4-5 times a day
and today the day that is
shortly ending for i see it is 11:59 pm
today i just sort of went hohum no church today
the day consisted of a journey to the airport
and aiding in the departure a holy family
a trio of irish tinkers surfers of the airstreams
glavanters on the planet
i their faithful commandant
considered it sufficient on the day
to serve these noble fools
and call that my church attendance for the day...
and in the tearful eyes of a woman i dearly love
i saw my own tears of joy and sadness...
a communion of sorts
i had communion proper at the table of a friend
in minneapolis
his wife prepared for me a sandwich
that was so simple and filling and elegant
and flavorful
a lamb-roll flattened with bricks and sliced
thin and savory
so much so
as to leave me sitting there in tears
tears of simple gratitude
and i told the story of a recent
event of trauma (and
now as i reflect)
managable human insanity
a story having to do with blood
and a gold chain with a little cross
and a ring on a bloody finger
a story of two lives coming together
over on LUTHERAN SURREALISM
there's some talk of "identity"
maybe i'll go over there
and think with my fingers
about it all
i am ignorant of the gospel today
until just now i went to the ORDO
the annual guidebook for liturgical practice
here in the monastery
i found the list of readings for the day
and read the gospel of MARK
CH 1 vss 21 - 28
the account of the expulsion of the evil spirit
and at this late hour i am given to reflection
as to how this story might relate to me
and the events of my life this past week
and perhaps what is to come in the coming week
i had an opportunity in the event to which i allude
the curious story of a bloody man
with a desire to fix a gold chain
and wear a ring
a story of a man with a severely cut thumb
who saw the unfolding of the event as
of no greater importance than anything else...
i had an opportunity to emulate jesus...
and ultimately i failed
the person in question saw the event
of a severd thumb as a mere nuisance...
whereas i saw it as a moment with insanity incarnate
a life out-of-whack
i see the person in question as one possessed
either of an actual spiritual daemonic force
or someone battling out the scars of
some form of neglect some lack of love along the way
when it was perhaps most necessary
i know for a fact that i cannot cast out the daemon
from the life of my hapless medicated friend
i refrain from giving him the social titles of
mentally ill or manic depressive or bipolar or
schizophrenic or retarded
socially challenged covers a wide swath
but then i thought to myself at one point
perhaps mental illnes is a form of survival
i offer this day now past
as one in communion with everyone
who did not go to church today
i was informed in a brief meeting
with a friend regarding the content
of the letter #1 to the Corinthians
in an intense moment of "family" for him
(who in fact had just returned from MASS
at his local church where he plays guitar)
i walked in and i represent immediately for him
the tension presented by PAUL regarding
the married and the celibate states
the moment of clarification came for him
when i could relate the fact that PAUL does not
regard married-family life as a less than acceptable path
he merely states it is bound to be harder
"why didn't you tell me that years ago!!!"...my friend calls...
and i realize i am in the midst of something intense in the family...
thus even while playing hooky from the
scheduled celebrations today i find my life
fully immersed in thoughts about the christian life
and the possibilities and the limitations therein
and then there's the brilliant and earthbasic
refection over on http://earthlingwonders.blogspot.com/
to keep my thinking sound and
my praying grounded
as i stumble and falter and pause
to breathe along the oftimes troublesome pilgrim trail
i returned from the journey in time to attend
SUNDAY VESPERS
but as i lay back in my bed i realized
"this is where i'm meant to be"
and i drifted off for five blissful hours
of unadulterated sleep
that was my VESPERS
i will face up to my problems
with the sound of the strings
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
