You never know what we'll churn up in cleaning a stall
When we sit silently in worship, clouds that separate us may evaporate, allowing us closer to oneness, our own fullness, which is the essence of God.
The closer we get to Truth, the more tolerant and understanding we become of others. There can be no lasting revolution in the world until we’ve changed ourselves, as in reborn or liberated or enlightened, even self-realized.
“Live adventurously,” as one woman at Quaker Meeting recalled reading. Another was upset that our “silence” can cover too many “barren spots,” as snow does. Had I replied, it would have been in anger, praising the silence. [Fifty years later, I would confirm the occasions when silence ignores an elephant in the room, a tension or injury that needs to be addressed: an opportunity for Truth to work.]
Another in Friends worship quoted Montaigne: “Respect the man who seeks Truth; be wary of him who has it.”
So many people reading spiritual and religious books do not comprehend them. Recognizing this makes me understand why Tibetan masters, among others, were so careful to keep their teachings “secret” or “hidden,” lest others ruthlessly exploited the words.
Why Jesus talked in puzzles – parables – rather than open logic.
I notice that Paul is more important to Christianity than is Jesus.
In this journals review, I’ve been struck by how much identity – first as a yogi and then as a Quaker – shaped my decisions and action, morally, especially.
A visitor to Meeting told how Quakers and other Protestants in her community were caring for a dying Zen monk. She didn’t know why.
Meeting, for me, became a community of Light, upholding the essence of yamas and niyamas, something that is often lost in the pageantry or theater of various schools of Asian practice, at least in the New World. The ethical constraints and actions, that is.
In worship-sharing, an “important event age 5 to ten” … one Friend observing her grandfather’s suicide as the first death in the family
For me, the natural museum classes.
Millard, after Mtg, mentioned how Jesus’ time was the most beneficial period for spreading a new faith. The Roman armies had subdued rivalrous tribes/nations, persecuted highway bandits, and built roads throughout the empire.
Paul, as a Roman citizen, could travel anywhere without a passport (or its equivalent).
Alice, quoting “an old white-haired woman in a Pennsylvania Meeting,” reminded another worshiper, “But if the vocal ministry doth not speak to thy condition, thou canst pull down thy body over thine ears and thus continue thy meditation.”
All the Quakers I came to know were intense people, and thus as instruments they moved toward fulfillment, however humbly or stubbornly.
At Gulli’s Brahms last night, Dennis remarked that one woman has put a number of people off. Not me. Perhaps I’ve simply grown to ignore that side of her.
Sitting is silent worship with the meetinghouse window open to a world of birds and breathing, children’s laughter, an electric saw, the wind even a neighbor’s radio with the smoky voice of an indistinct church organ, not that any of them matter
~*~
From Spiralbound Hoosier, with commentary from now.
And so I am, when finished transcribing a journal in my spiralbound series.
The title line was from another wide-margin volume in that series.
Was I journaling at the office, too? Or even awaiting the bus? That would explain the lengthy, detailed entries so close together by date. When dates were included.
~*~
Meditation, quiescence or Dhyana, not enough: the practice should be fierce!
As with fire.
Still, tension or anger
reduce to nothing!
Nothing tangible, that is. How divine!
One of the things I’ve learned over the years is that turning any discussion of religion away from the doctrinaire formulas and instead to direct feelings and experiences can be quite refreshing, even inspiring.
Essentially, that boils down to shifting from “head” speculation and instead to personal encounters, “heart,” if you will. It moves the focus from the abstract to something more concrete.
In my book, Light Seed Truth, I try to take that a step further by avoiding the G-word altogether except in direct quotation. Part of that stems from a Jewish tradition that considers the name of the Holy One to be too sacred to be uttered, leading instead to substitutes that include the all-cap LORD in English translations, meaning The Name. And part stems from just how different our individual perceptions of the word can be, often defaulting into an old bearded male of some sort, despite other options. Even Adonai and Elohim carry different connotations, not that I go into them. Just be aware.
Besides, the G-word can too easily create a wall between those who “believe” and those who don’t.
Add to that the surveys that find atheists, overall, are more familiar with the Bible than are members of varying denominations, and I do want to include them in the discussion.
In my ebook, I do hope to encourage an appreciation for wonder itself in our lives.
Not a bad place to start, is it?
You can find the volume in the digital platform of your choice at Smashwords, the Apple Store, Barnes & Noble’s Nook, Scribd, Sony’s Kobo, and other fine ebook retailers. You can also ask your public library to obtain it.
Cinema critic Roger Ebert was talking of the importance of the witness in every movie and pointing to the places where the character appeared in the film under discussion, mostly in a lower corner. The comment flashed me to the reality of how often the hardest thing to see is what should be the most obvious. It’s not just the elephant in the room, but also smaller things we take for granted.
One way or another, all fiction is built on the observer, who is also to some degree an outsider or misfit, too. (If there are any exceptions, I’d love to hear them.) Four of my novels, for instance, were intuitively built around a photographer, a profession that makes Cassia’s father a well-trained witness. In turn, as she investigates his archives, she, too, becomes a witness, even before she starts commenting on his earlier life.
Of course, as a reader, you also become a witness. Or even a voyeur, as Camille Paglia has contended. It’s almost like every page is a microscope slide to be interpreted.
Curiously, I now see this also at play in a long-term non-fiction project in my life. Forty 40 years ago, seemingly by accident, I became involved in trying to uncover my father’s ancestry. I thought we were simply homogenous Midwesterners who had always been in Ohio from its beginning. What I discovered, though, was that one branch was – but German-speaking and largely akin to Amish. My name-line, however, was Quaker by way of North Carolina and its slaveholding culture. Both strands were outsiders to the larger society and also pacifist. It opened my eyes to alternative histories and to a recognition that stories don’t always have to resolve nicely – three people may record their memories quite differently, and maybe all three are true, if not factually accurate.
Oh yes, the research was often collaborative, with correspondence going and coming from others working on parts of the puzzle. It wasn’t always quite as lonely as drafting fiction or poetry.
To my surprise, as my novel What’s Left was taking shape, Cassia started assembling bits about her Greek-American grandparents, who had died before her birth, and then beyond to her great-grandparents, who brought the family to the New World. Like me, she found valuable clues in the surviving snapshots and formal portraits regarding their personalities, as she also did in the letters and other documents.
None of my ancestors came by way of Ellis Island, and on Dad’s side they were all in this country by the time of the Revolutionary War. I once pondered doing a series of novels on them, but I’m still intimidated by the technical challenges – a realistic language they can speak and we can understand being high among them.
Witness, I might add, has an extra dimension in Quaker thinking. It’s not just what one sees or hears but how one lives. The goal is integrity, as in wholeness or consistency. Is that what others see in us or our lives and work? Or even as our goal and ideal, even when we fall short reaching for it?
And, as a final twist, I’m realizing that the Indigenous perspective of looking back seven generations when making decisions for the future would take me back to the birth of Orphan George in 1701.
I do find that mindboggling.
~*~
You can find my genealogical gleanings on my Orphan George blog.
The novels, meanwhile, are available in the digital platform of your choice at Smashwords, the Apple Store, Barnes & Noble’s Nook, Scribd, Sony’s Kobo, and other fine ebook retailers. They’re also available in paper and Kindle at Amazon, or you can ask your local library to obtain them.
Bob Stratton tells of driving home from work in Lordstown when a thunderstorm rolled up:
“One of the fellas in the car said, ‘Hey, the car behind us is sure coming comin’ up fast with its brights on.’
“It was no car. It was rolling lightnin’ that hit us.”
They drove on to a diner. “I smell something singed,” the waitress said.
“If that’s all it is, we’re lucky,” they laughed, and then told her what had happened.
Several weeks later, stopping there during another storm, the waitress was now telling them their story.
“You must not recognize us,” they laughed. “We’re the fellas it happened to.”
An alternative way of knowing Christ. Not just about him – or it or they.
And definitely not just by the Book.
My goal of having our family operating on a Quaker Meeting decision-making process.
Yes, trying to find concesus with young children in the house. We’re all on board, right?
Let’s just say I failed here. My, was a naïve when I jumped in as a stepdad in my mid-50s!
Not just because of a rebellious younger member, whom I deeply adore. But also because of the parent/adult dynamics and tensions.
No doubt, I pictured myself as the clerk, that is moderator. The mother, however, is what the one in the movie My Fat Greek Wedding Declared, the throat, ultimately rules.
Saint Paul should stand fully corrected regarding the head of the household. The mother’s is great theology.
Just how are decisions really made in families? I’d love to listen in on the discussions.
As I reflect on the many facets of my life to this point – including the zig-zag route that has led me to here – I realize what draws them together is the two central metaphors I’ve found in the early Quaker movement: divine Light and the corresponding Seed. One, as spirit, draws forth; the other, as physical matter, responds. These two, however abstractly, are embodied in both my writing and spiritual practice.
Not that anything’s been quite that easy or direct, even before our current dark times.
At least I haven’t been alone.
~*~
In my fiction, they’re most prominent in Kenzie’s Tibetan Buddhist discoveries in the novels Pit-a-Pat High Jacks and Subway Visions and in Jaya’s practices in Yoga Bootcamp, Nearly Canaan, and the Secret Side of Jaya.
Not to be dogmatic in any of this. What I have now is what I found missing in both the Protestant circles where I grew up and the Eastern practices later. The second, as the ashram, was a step that taught me to sit in silent meditation as well as to live in community, lessons that flowered in relation to my Quaker, Mennonite, and Brethren circles that followed.
Trying to live in the “real world” of employment and a partner and family definitely thickened the plot as these have unfolded. As I’ll concede, a spiritual life needs to be grounded. That is, the gritty realities.
~*~
Trying to be faithful to the Way as it has opened before me was hardly the path I would have expected. It has, though, been blessed with mutual irradiation, in Douglas Steere’s brilliant term, including a Greek Orthodox infusion.
More recently, attempting to get back to some of the basic hatha yoga exercises, has inflicted the humbling blunt recognition of what 50 years of neglect can do to the physical body.
And cutting through the platitudes and BS of the literature remains a challenge.
~*~
These elements drive the essays of my book Light Seed Truth, examining the three central metaphors of Quaker Christianity. It really becomes a different way of thinking.
Here are some of the things I’ve noted along the way.
I’ve been a Quaker for nearly four decades now, coming to the faith of my ancestors by chance after living and working on a yoga farm in Pennsylvania. Lately, I’ve been uncovering a revolutionary understanding of Christ and Christianity – one the early Quakers could not fully proclaim in face of the existing blasphemy laws but experiences they couched in metaphors of the Light, Seed, and Truth. As I systematically connect the dots 3½ centuries later, I’m finding a vibrant alternative to conventional religion, one full of opportunities to engage contemporary intellectual frontiers, individual spiritual practice, and societal crises. As an established writer – a professional journalist, poet, and novelist – I’ve organized these insights into a book-length manuscript. Would you like you to see it?
What I’ve found is an astonishing course of religious thought no one else has previously presented systematically. Reconstructed, their interwoven metaphors of the Light, the Seed, and the Truth provide a challenging alternative to conventional Christianity, one full of opportunities to engage current intellectual frontiers ranging from quantum physics and Asian spiritual teachings to psychology and contemporary poetry.
Embedded under the conventional interpretation of the scriptures and teachings about Jesus is an alternative definition of Christ and Christianity.
When early Quakers in mid-1600s Britain experienced this as their “primitive Christianity revived,” they were forbidden by the blasphemy laws from proclaiming their understanding openly. Instead, they couched it in overlapping metaphors of the Light, the Seed, and the Truth.
Embracing holy mystery, I’ve found the Hidden Path emerges.
Forget everything you’ve heard about Christianity. Let me show you an alternative portrait of Christ, and a much different practice that results. It can change your life. For starters, you need to realize that Christ is bigger than Jesus.
I can introduce you to the Universal Christ, which is quite distinct from Jesus. It can transform your spiritual understanding and make your life deeper and richer.
This can revolutionize your experience of Christ and what it means to be Christian.
This is not simply an intellectual exercise, but a visceral awareness
The results will startle and provoke, not just across the spectrum of today’s Society of Friends, but among Christians everywhere.
Sometimes I experience the act of writing as prayer. Neither is done for outward compensation, much less any guarantee of results, but rather to open one’s heart and mind to what is eternal and true – and attune oneself to that, regardless.
Culling my collection of photography and tearsheets, I’ve recognized I no longer desire to travel many places I haven’t been, but would rather revisit places I have. Either in person or, in the case of Tibet or Japanese temples, in my thinking and study. I also recognize that could change, given different economic circumstances and an influx of free time.
I now seethe early Quaker vagabonds were Dharma bums, too. The itinerant ministry proffers its own humor.
Quakers are still around, all right. And more relevant than ever. Just listen.
You can find it in the digital platform of your choice at Smashwords, the Apple Store, Barnes & Noble’s Nook, Scribd, Sony’s Kobo, and other fine ebook retailers. You can also ask your public library to obtain it.
One of the items I wish I had pursued more openly in my history Quaking Dover is the evolution of the iconic New England town meeting from its origins in the Congregational churches of Puritan faith, as a means of collective church governance, and then into a more secular democratic ideal.
The presence of Quakers (Friends), with their unique decision-making that achieved unity without taking a vote, would have been pivotal in this evolutionary step both before and after the Revolutionary War.
A town moderator, presiding over the session, and a Quaker Meeting clerk share a number of commonalities in their efforts to balance the voicing of alternative positions, where all are heard equally and respectfully, at least ideally.
Quakers also realized that a minority position, even a single person, could be closer to the Truth than the majority was. Resolution of the differences could lead to a superior synthesis, done right.
A fuller history would be informative.
I do suffer through public meetings that don’t have that underpinning, especially when it comes down to a clash of egos or power plays or showboating.
Nevertheless, there are clues in my book suggesting that the Quaker minority did temper Dover’s town decisions, sometimes humorously.
~*~
Another point that would welcome further research by a dedicated historian would be the three volumes of Dover Meeting minutes dealing with male Friends who enlisted in the American Revolution, contrary to Quaker pacifism as a matter of faith and faithfulness.
It was a struggle, with no guarantee that the new government would recognize the hard-won religious liberty that Friends were finally enjoying.
~*~
After publication of Quaking Dover, I became aware of the influence of the Scottish prisoners of war who were brought to New England after the battles of Worcester and Dunbar. Like the West Country fishermen who settled before the arrival of the Puritans, the Scots became a subculture in the region, embodying a different culture and set of folkways. It seems to have been a factor in the Bean family of Dover Friends Meeting.
Again, it’s another history that needs fuller treatment.
~*~
Reading a history by someone else dealing with details you’re familiar with can also be disturbing.
For instance, Nathaniel Philbrick’s bestselling Mayflower has no mention of William Hilton and his family, who were instrumental in a scandal involving the Reverend John Lyford, an Anglican priest in the Plymouth Bay colony who baptized a Hilton child contrary to the rules of those we call Pilgrims, or more properly Separatists. The plot thickens with the introduction of John Oldham and events leading up to the Pequot War.
The picture takes on a different perspective when you’re concerned with what was happening north of Boston.
William Hilton headed off to Dover, where his brother Edward had already built in what would become the third oldest permanent settlement in New England.
~*~
Leaping ahead two centuries, I’ve had to ask myself if someone else with Dover Quaker roots, John Greenleaf Whittier, was America’s first great polemic poet.
Not just a forerunner of Robert Frost but Allen Ginsberg, too, in fact?
~*~
Quaking Dover is available in paperback through your favorite bookstore or as an ebook in the digital platform of your choice at Smashwords, the Apple Store, Barnes & Noble’s Nook, Scribd, Sony’s Kobo, and other fine ebook retailers. You can also ask your public library to obtain it.
Jnana's Red Barn 