not quite the saffron robes i expected as a monk!
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Time is ticking. Berkeley will soon be the place I used to live. The place I'll probably come back to, though precisely when holds a tinge of mystery. For now, San Mateo will be my home.
Why on earth have I been sent to San Mateo?
tick-tock, tick-tock
Time is ticking. Berkeley will soon be the place I used to live. The place I'll probably come back to, though precisely when holds a tinge of mystery. For now, San Mateo will be my home.
Why on earth have I been sent to San Mateo?
0
1.
Hawk searches in spiral
for something to fill her belly,
keen eye concentrated on prey,
the gaze of attack so practiced she no longer sees rabbit,
but becomes it, no longer hustles through thermal,
but is herself a hot spiral of circular air.
The captivating quiet of dive continues
during strike and seize, only a sputter of struggle
heard across the prairie, the muffled rumble
of gnosis once again splitting, the mutter of death
an empty grassland whisper
amidst wind-swept tips.
2.
fish live in there.
dark pools of harbor.
fins of endless sway and dart.
gills that gulp from steady flow.
hovering in their cool pocket,
whole worlds pass by -
emergers and midges, nymphs
and bits of dislodged scum.
above, hatch upon hatch appear
in the late rays of light,
the descent of manna destined
to again disappear.
thus the hasty grasp
as a casual drift of caddis,
the about face of mistake
made painfully clear,
the split-decision of
struggle or surrender
as line tugs and slacks
toward either death
or the tenuous toss
of return.
3.
Ten days gone
and I return to full flower
of iris, a bounty of
crowned bow beside the window.
It leans in gently toward the pane,
this expiry of oxygen, this soaker of sun.
So much beauty in bloom.
I do not imagine iris
concentrate on their breathing,
nor watch themselves reach for the light.
They simply are what they know to do.
And I am the one who imagines,
who marvels at the grace
of their doing.
the nature of things
1.
Hawk searches in spiral
for something to fill her belly,
keen eye concentrated on prey,
the gaze of attack so practiced she no longer sees rabbit,
but becomes it, no longer hustles through thermal,
but is herself a hot spiral of circular air.
The captivating quiet of dive continues
during strike and seize, only a sputter of struggle
heard across the prairie, the muffled rumble
of gnosis once again splitting, the mutter of death
an empty grassland whisper
amidst wind-swept tips.
2.
fish live in there.
dark pools of harbor.
fins of endless sway and dart.
gills that gulp from steady flow.
hovering in their cool pocket,
whole worlds pass by -
emergers and midges, nymphs
and bits of dislodged scum.
above, hatch upon hatch appear
in the late rays of light,
the descent of manna destined
to again disappear.
thus the hasty grasp
as a casual drift of caddis,
the about face of mistake
made painfully clear,
the split-decision of
struggle or surrender
as line tugs and slacks
toward either death
or the tenuous toss
of return.
3.
Ten days gone
and I return to full flower
of iris, a bounty of
crowned bow beside the window.
It leans in gently toward the pane,
this expiry of oxygen, this soaker of sun.
So much beauty in bloom.
I do not imagine iris
concentrate on their breathing,
nor watch themselves reach for the light.
They simply are what they know to do.
And I am the one who imagines,
who marvels at the grace
of their doing.
0
Today is Feast Day for St. Therese of Lisieux. The Orthodox Church will celebrate Wednesday.
"Therese saw herself as a child of God - simple and focused. Trust, especially trust in God, is a childlike virtue. Some spiritualities have stressed complicated practices and extraordinary journeys of the soul; Therese's spirituality is simple and she calls it her "little way". She believed and teaches us that life presents enough challenges and opportunities for grace. She teaches us that God is everywhere - in every situation and person - and in the ordinary, simple details of life.
"My vocation is love."
Today is Feast Day for St. Therese of Lisieux. The Orthodox Church will celebrate Wednesday.
"Therese saw herself as a child of God - simple and focused. Trust, especially trust in God, is a childlike virtue. Some spiritualities have stressed complicated practices and extraordinary journeys of the soul; Therese's spirituality is simple and she calls it her "little way". She believed and teaches us that life presents enough challenges and opportunities for grace. She teaches us that God is everywhere - in every situation and person - and in the ordinary, simple details of life.
0
Check out the updated Council page...
I love that one of my council member's bios includes a footnote!
Couldn't do it without them!
Check out the updated Council page...
I love that one of my council member's bios includes a footnote!
0
the highlight of today's party was the Cars piñata, which raised adrenaline levels to a fevered pitch and proved equally satisfying for adults and children alike. really. after several rounds of kiddies, the parents started stepping in to inflict the necessary damage. i concluded that an adult piñata party is in order, as i watched the satisfaction of release on each their faces. and of course, i had a go myself, which brought about one of the finer moments i've experienced since taking my vows. there i was, whacking the heck out of that piñata when between the third & fourth swing i hear an adult holler from the staircase behind me, "and she's a monk, too!"
dimitri turns 4
 |
| The cricket bat that finally brought it down... |
0
Meet the newest arrival at the Cooper's in San Mateo. I spent much of the day with one of these little creatures on my chest - more direct human contact than this monk has had in ages.
Our vulnerability in this world is breathtaking.
At the dinner table with their brothers, Sam, the oldest, was making a chant of the directions, moving his pointer finger in cadence. North-south-east-west; north-south-east-west. I jumped in with my own 4-part jive: Martha-Kay-is the-best! This garnered a round of giggles, then Dimitiri (who turns four tomorrow!) countered, Martha-Kay-is not-so good! Of course this stirred up more laughter, into which this adorable little brown-eyed imp emphatically adds, But I like her 1000%!
Tomorrow we are decorating pumpkins at the birthday party and I will have to slip away from 15 raucous kids to pray. Family life is everything monastic life is not. What would it be like to live amongst them?
Ava and Amelie
Meet the newest arrival at the Cooper's in San Mateo. I spent much of the day with one of these little creatures on my chest - more direct human contact than this monk has had in ages.
Our vulnerability in this world is breathtaking.
At the dinner table with their brothers, Sam, the oldest, was making a chant of the directions, moving his pointer finger in cadence. North-south-east-west; north-south-east-west. I jumped in with my own 4-part jive: Martha-Kay-is the-best! This garnered a round of giggles, then Dimitiri (who turns four tomorrow!) countered, Martha-Kay-is not-so good! Of course this stirred up more laughter, into which this adorable little brown-eyed imp emphatically adds, But I like her 1000%!
Tomorrow we are decorating pumpkins at the birthday party and I will have to slip away from 15 raucous kids to pray. Family life is everything monastic life is not. What would it be like to live amongst them?
0
It's damn cold out there.
Sunlight on Shovel
It's damn cold out there.
Subzero, they say.
I rise from my corner of kitchen
to fiddle with the heat, when
my eye catches sight of sunlight
beaming a single ray
onto the front porch, onto the snow shovel,
in fact. It is so clear
about what it is doing,
this shining,
that even the green plastic
sparkles.
I don't know what else to say,
except that it doesn't take much,
even in the wild of winter,
to melt me.
1
i just opened this airbook and instead of immediately typing the two lines that'd popped into my head, i got distracted on 3-5 other things. (see, i can't even remember how many others!)
if i'd taken up pen and paper, those lines would be found,
that is to say, not lost.
ah, well. we lose things every day.
here i be.
i wonder if addiction to this screen staunches creative flow.
the tool itself is an amazing gift, but i seem to find so many things for which i think i need a tool.
not to mention the crap for which i really do, like writing to you.i just opened this airbook and instead of immediately typing the two lines that'd popped into my head, i got distracted on 3-5 other things. (see, i can't even remember how many others!)
if i'd taken up pen and paper, those lines would be found,
that is to say, not lost.
ah, well. we lose things every day.
0
yes nate, i'm thinking of camping until july. i might as well write the story here because i've posted about it on facebook. my sister will see it within 48 hours, which means i'll be getting a call from my mom a few minutes after that. she's not gonna be happy i'm considering tent living for 10 months.
thinking out loud about tents
yes nate, i'm thinking of camping until july. i might as well write the story here because i've posted about it on facebook. my sister will see it within 48 hours, which means i'll be getting a call from my mom a few minutes after that. she's not gonna be happy i'm considering tent living for 10 months.
i may be crazy, but the vision came in prayer one morning and hasn't left me since. i saw myself in a tent in nancee's backyard. that's it. oh, but how the vision has grown in the days hence. i've picked out the REI tent that i no longer need to buy (see photo above, story below) and researched heating devices. nicole said she would build me a platform and i'm already mentally combing my books for which will make the cut.
1
These were the words we heard outside of Peet's last week, spoken by a mother to her son as they walked past. He was whining, "Why, mom? Why not?" To which she retorted, "Because today is Monday, and Monday is not a treat day." Ann and I looked at each other with a mix of humour, horror and knowing. We were thinking the same thing - poor kid, he's gonna hate Mondays for the rest of his life.
"Monday is not a treat day."
These were the words we heard outside of Peet's last week, spoken by a mother to her son as they walked past. He was whining, "Why, mom? Why not?" To which she retorted, "Because today is Monday, and Monday is not a treat day." Ann and I looked at each other with a mix of humour, horror and knowing. We were thinking the same thing - poor kid, he's gonna hate Mondays for the rest of his life.
1
May I begin by saying that Cheryl Strayed slays me?
I'm three miles outside of Sierra City with her and have been unable to put WILD down. Each chapter is definitely, definitely the last, and then well, maybe just one more....Cheryl and the Monster and her big ol' boot. I'm trying to reserve judgement on the 'boot as cover' thing until I finish the story tomorrow. That boot has a campy ring to me - a little bit like being a Montanan flipping through an LL Bean catalog. Just feels kinda funny. And clean.
But man, Cheryl knows how to write it. It's the third time I've read her and the third time I've wept.
Let's try a different window...
I'm three miles outside of Sierra City with her and have been unable to put WILD down. Each chapter is definitely, definitely the last, and then well, maybe just one more....Cheryl and the Monster and her big ol' boot. I'm trying to reserve judgement on the 'boot as cover' thing until I finish the story tomorrow. That boot has a campy ring to me - a little bit like being a Montanan flipping through an LL Bean catalog. Just feels kinda funny. And clean.
But man, Cheryl knows how to write it. It's the third time I've read her and the third time I've wept.
1
here's what i want to tell you: this is hard. only a crazy person would aspire to live as monk outside of a monastery. i'm pretty sure i'm that. crazy. or if i wasn't before, i am now. have you ever tried to sit five times a day in prayer, for at least half an hour each time? it's not sustainable, unless you live in a monastery, which i don't! but we knew that. and i asked for it. willingly. even eagerly. i'm crazy.
and there's almost nothing i'd rather be doing than this.
putting in a window
here's what i want to tell you: this is hard. only a crazy person would aspire to live as monk outside of a monastery. i'm pretty sure i'm that. crazy. or if i wasn't before, i am now. have you ever tried to sit five times a day in prayer, for at least half an hour each time? it's not sustainable, unless you live in a monastery, which i don't! but we knew that. and i asked for it. willingly. even eagerly. i'm crazy.
and there's almost nothing i'd rather be doing than this.
2
"The truly precious things are those forming ladders reaching toward the beauty of the world." - Simone Weil, Waiting for God
Earlier this week I set out on my evening walk with fuzzy-computer-brain. I began to climb the secret staircase just outside my house, declaring this hike one of my overdue prayer times. With some measure of grumpiness I said, "All right God, I'm finally outside. Show me your face." Three steps later my foot landed next the most precious purple blossom, just waiting on the railroad tie. It was unopened - a little lavender thing that looked like folded silk rice paper. Simple. Tiny. The face of God.
Preastolatio
"The truly precious things are those forming ladders reaching toward the beauty of the world." - Simone Weil, Waiting for God
Earlier this week I set out on my evening walk with fuzzy-computer-brain. I began to climb the secret staircase just outside my house, declaring this hike one of my overdue prayer times. With some measure of grumpiness I said, "All right God, I'm finally outside. Show me your face." Three steps later my foot landed next the most precious purple blossom, just waiting on the railroad tie. It was unopened - a little lavender thing that looked like folded silk rice paper. Simple. Tiny. The face of God.
3
I don't know why they chose me, these two men of very different ages, who each at separate times, approached and wordlessly asked if they could sit. I had plopped myself beneath a willow on the far side of the lake, grateful to have prayer time outside in the heat.
Lake Elizabeth, Fremont
1
Note: This post was originally published as an essay in the Passages issue of Inquiring Mind, Spring 2011
‘I went down, down, down and the flames
went higher...'
Ring of Fire
Note: This post was originally published as an essay in the Passages issue of Inquiring Mind, Spring 2011
This summer at
Spirit Rock Meditation Center, I attended Grief
Ritual: A Daylong Workshop for Collective Healing, with Dagara healer
Sobonfu Somé and Buddhist Teacher Spring Washam. Designed to penetrate our
barriers to grief, the daylong offered a sacred container in which to express
the pains and emotions of loss. I have never experienced the meditation hall so
aflame. In the morning we sat in cool stillness, following our breath and
listening to the teachings with quiet curiosity. By afternoon, we were wailing
and dancing, the incessant drumbeat carrying our sorrows toward the colorful
shrines we’d created, our losses laid bare in prostration or in carefully cradled
croons. Mothers
mourned lost children, daughters grieved their fathers; there were survivors of
cancer and addiction, infertility and childhood trauma. Folks risked expression
of their suffering, and for
many of us, I believe it was healing.
0
An old 2007 Facebook activity, resurrected in the name of writer's block, aka 'sloth':
My first "official" date was in 5th grade, and included racing go-carts on a home-grown course.
My sister is my best friend. I am also blessed to have several best friends who are sisters.
My favourite store bought comfort foods are - savory: boxed Macaroni & Cheese (Kraft then, Annie's now), sweet: Ben and Jerry's Chocolate Fudge Brownie Frozen Yogurt.
I wish more people felt comfortable naked.
I knocked out my two front teeth during my own birthday party at Derr's Skating Rink.
25 Random Things About Me
An old 2007 Facebook activity, resurrected in the name of writer's block, aka 'sloth':
My first "official" date was in 5th grade, and included racing go-carts on a home-grown course.
0
I know, do I really even need to write anything? She's stunning. She's precious. She's fickle. She's a badass. She's my sun and stars.
phoebe's story, part i
I know, do I really even need to write anything? She's stunning. She's precious. She's fickle. She's a badass. She's my sun and stars.
0
Oh, the woes of urban monkdom. I know it sounds ridiculous, but before I took my vows, my first monastic dilemma was whether or not I could go see The Birds on the big screen in downtown Berkeley. It's running tonight and has been on my calendar for ages. I know, I know...paying money (which I don't have) to see ravens pecking out the eyes of alluring blondes doesn't exactly support the goal of quiet, stillness and listening for God. But it's the big screen! And it's Tippi Hedren!
This is for The Birds!
Oh, the woes of urban monkdom. I know it sounds ridiculous, but before I took my vows, my first monastic dilemma was whether or not I could go see The Birds on the big screen in downtown Berkeley. It's running tonight and has been on my calendar for ages. I know, I know...paying money (which I don't have) to see ravens pecking out the eyes of alluring blondes doesn't exactly support the goal of quiet, stillness and listening for God. But it's the big screen! And it's Tippi Hedren!
1
Birthday Candles - Make a Vow!
Today I turned 39 and gave myself a most unusual gift - I took monastic vows. I mean serious, year-long vows. Before God and 5 supportive council members, I took Christian vows of poverty, chastity and obedience, and I took refuge in Buddhism's Triple Gem. I'm officially a monk. Congratulations! I hear you saying, all the while thinking, What the heck is she talking about?
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