Giraffe eyelashes are absolutely from left field. A comical cherry-on-top of nature. God is Good, Graham. Reading this felt like a sort of lymphatic drainage. Reconnecting me, through your stream-of-consciousness, to the ground beneath my feet. You are truly 'present', in another convicting sense of the word.
Thank you for this crackling flame of musings on this frigid November evening.
Joyyyeeeeeeeeeee!!!!! Hey!! So good to hear your voice!!! (in my mind's eye, at least -- I can hear exactly how you would say this, and I dearly miss our 3-day Golden Age of sitting around and talking at the conference...) Thanks for reading this little whatever-post! Thanks for your comments, all delightful poetry!
Grahammmmm!!! So GREAT to hear yours! Existing in the Wake of Miracle Sixteen-Ten while holding it as loosely as I possibly can. Always still processing and churning. Missing your presence and energy, sorely! Your reflections have been consolations, in the interim. Blessings.
What I hear you asking across these rich offerings is the deep spiritual question, “What is real?” Is the answer to such a question the act of asking another question? In that way, is the “real” actually a verb rather than a noun? And does spiritual activity - whether interior in pursuit of one’s connection to the mysterious Other or exterior in pursuit of connection to other people, creatures and the earth - necessarily involve the act of asking questions? I love the Berdyaev quote, “The great task of creativity is to destroy idols.” The word “idea” is related etymologically to the word “idol.” So is creativity in essence the asking of questions? And is the creativity of a poet the asking of questions of the words you wrestle with and choose, which then dissolves the idols of what we thought the words meant and causes us to wonder? I know, that’s a lot of questions! But I’m interested to hear whether any of this rings true for you as a poet, or as a spiritual wanderer?
Thanks for this, Mary Ellen! The idea of "the real" being not a static Something [perhaps waiting somewhere, "just beyond the veil," or whatever] but rather an ongoing, creative process -- a creative process that necessarily involves inquiry -- definitely resonates with me. I think of Socrates as trying to illustrate this, for example; he wasn't a nihilist, walking around and just deconstructing cherished views for the hell of it -- by constantly, persistently asking "What is it? What is it? What is it?" -- he opened up new ways to think, feel, imagine as humans. I don't think the questions necessarily have to be articulated in words, though. I think the Buddha sitting beneath the Bodhi tree was basically a question -- or a multitude of questions -- but only one that could be expressed with the whole silent, listening body -- not with language. I see Rothko's paintings as questions in this sense, too. At the same time, though, when I look at a dandelion, I see staggering creativity on the part of...Someone...but it doesn't strike me as a question! There is so much *rest* in silent, living things...they are somehow way beyond the restless, burning energy of our artistic creativity. So, questioning isn't ultimate, maybe. The questions come to rest when we encounter, face to face, the results of God's creativity. (?)
Thanks for this Graham. This conversation of questions, and whatever new awarenesses it creates, was prompted by the depth, time and care you took in choosing the words of your essay and talk and I’m grateful. It feels like a deep place that is on the edge of how I experience encountering God. I love that questions, perhaps the deepest, don’t necessarily need words and take different forms. And that our “questions come to rest” when we encounter God’s creativity. Is our creativity grounded in questions but the silent rest we feel of living things comes from the *answers* of the Creator? Yet is a resting question still a living question? Does our opening to the Source of life always involve a question within us, even a silent one? Is a breath, in its essence, a question?
Two nights ago me and my daughter and husband were in front of the icons saying a quick evening prayer...and when she got to her part she looked up at the Pantocrator and asked God in the sweetest and most sincere little 11 year old voice to "Make America great again"...
It was something so surreal to hear that prayer from my little one. Despite all the complexity of my jaded adult mind, the simplicity of her intention effectively slam dunked on my urge to interpret it as dystopian.
Watched your presentation at the conference. You are a bundle of poetic passion! Looking forward to future writings. Maybe one day our paths will physically cross.
That was a truly wonderful essay, it was the first thing I looked at this morning and it has put me back together after a fretful sleep. Inspiring, insightful, and comforting, thank you.
Giraffe eyelashes are absolutely from left field. A comical cherry-on-top of nature. God is Good, Graham. Reading this felt like a sort of lymphatic drainage. Reconnecting me, through your stream-of-consciousness, to the ground beneath my feet. You are truly 'present', in another convicting sense of the word.
Thank you for this crackling flame of musings on this frigid November evening.
Godspeed, Sir Package Cowboy of the Brown F-16!
Joyyyeeeeeeeeeee!!!!! Hey!! So good to hear your voice!!! (in my mind's eye, at least -- I can hear exactly how you would say this, and I dearly miss our 3-day Golden Age of sitting around and talking at the conference...) Thanks for reading this little whatever-post! Thanks for your comments, all delightful poetry!
Grahammmmm!!! So GREAT to hear yours! Existing in the Wake of Miracle Sixteen-Ten while holding it as loosely as I possibly can. Always still processing and churning. Missing your presence and energy, sorely! Your reflections have been consolations, in the interim. Blessings.
What I hear you asking across these rich offerings is the deep spiritual question, “What is real?” Is the answer to such a question the act of asking another question? In that way, is the “real” actually a verb rather than a noun? And does spiritual activity - whether interior in pursuit of one’s connection to the mysterious Other or exterior in pursuit of connection to other people, creatures and the earth - necessarily involve the act of asking questions? I love the Berdyaev quote, “The great task of creativity is to destroy idols.” The word “idea” is related etymologically to the word “idol.” So is creativity in essence the asking of questions? And is the creativity of a poet the asking of questions of the words you wrestle with and choose, which then dissolves the idols of what we thought the words meant and causes us to wonder? I know, that’s a lot of questions! But I’m interested to hear whether any of this rings true for you as a poet, or as a spiritual wanderer?
Thanks for this, Mary Ellen! The idea of "the real" being not a static Something [perhaps waiting somewhere, "just beyond the veil," or whatever] but rather an ongoing, creative process -- a creative process that necessarily involves inquiry -- definitely resonates with me. I think of Socrates as trying to illustrate this, for example; he wasn't a nihilist, walking around and just deconstructing cherished views for the hell of it -- by constantly, persistently asking "What is it? What is it? What is it?" -- he opened up new ways to think, feel, imagine as humans. I don't think the questions necessarily have to be articulated in words, though. I think the Buddha sitting beneath the Bodhi tree was basically a question -- or a multitude of questions -- but only one that could be expressed with the whole silent, listening body -- not with language. I see Rothko's paintings as questions in this sense, too. At the same time, though, when I look at a dandelion, I see staggering creativity on the part of...Someone...but it doesn't strike me as a question! There is so much *rest* in silent, living things...they are somehow way beyond the restless, burning energy of our artistic creativity. So, questioning isn't ultimate, maybe. The questions come to rest when we encounter, face to face, the results of God's creativity. (?)
Thanks for this Graham. This conversation of questions, and whatever new awarenesses it creates, was prompted by the depth, time and care you took in choosing the words of your essay and talk and I’m grateful. It feels like a deep place that is on the edge of how I experience encountering God. I love that questions, perhaps the deepest, don’t necessarily need words and take different forms. And that our “questions come to rest” when we encounter God’s creativity. Is our creativity grounded in questions but the silent rest we feel of living things comes from the *answers* of the Creator? Yet is a resting question still a living question? Does our opening to the Source of life always involve a question within us, even a silent one? Is a breath, in its essence, a question?
Two nights ago me and my daughter and husband were in front of the icons saying a quick evening prayer...and when she got to her part she looked up at the Pantocrator and asked God in the sweetest and most sincere little 11 year old voice to "Make America great again"...
It was something so surreal to hear that prayer from my little one. Despite all the complexity of my jaded adult mind, the simplicity of her intention effectively slam dunked on my urge to interpret it as dystopian.
Bruh.
I love that! Children have a way of being sudden sunshine like that, suddenly evaporating so much fog, it's amazing!!
Watched your presentation at the conference. You are a bundle of poetic passion! Looking forward to future writings. Maybe one day our paths will physically cross.
Thanks, BeardTree -- and I hope our paths cross, too, brother!
That was a truly wonderful essay, it was the first thing I looked at this morning and it has put me back together after a fretful sleep. Inspiring, insightful, and comforting, thank you.
So good to hear this, JulieReason! I don't know why I write, really, but when I hear of affects like this, I'm so glad and honored.