The more a tree is like itself, the more it is like Him.
If it tried to be something else which it was never intended to be, it would be
less like God and therefore would give him less glory.”
-
Thomas Merton, New Seeds of Contemplation
“As the rain and the snow come down from heaven, and do
not return to it without watering the earth and making it bud and flourish, so
that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater, so shall my word be
that goes forth from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty, but it shall
accomplish that which I purpose, and prosper in the thing for which I sent it.
“
-
Isaiah 55: 10-11
So there they were, the three almost wise men, gathered for
their ritual communion.
“Peace be with you.”
“Good to see you.”
“Good to be seen.”
The requisite reports on the status of offspring and the
supersonic unbridled passage of the collective and idiosyncratic existences are
swiftly shifted. Transitions and potential transformations, discerning the
Odyssean passages of the pilgrimages of self identity and work evolved as the
unspoken focal points for the theme of this concelebration.
What was that road not taken? Was it fear?
“What would you be doing if you had the choice?
The new Irish writer of the purple sage questioned.
Passion, talent, and desire are surfaced as overriding
factors. Filling up the siloes meant nothing as the trio understood that gifts
were given to be nurtured and used…life would take care of itself. It was an
easy conclusion since a semblance of faith fueled their fire.
The survey said
-
Two for music
-
Two for writing, (the senior one stuck to his split
decision and would acquiesce to the flip of a coin if necessary. However, if time
permitted sailing and baseball would have made what his father called the
proverbial “jack of all trades”
list. )
Regret was not a condition
explored. Their journeys, a series of accidental vocational circumstances,
had brought them together on the way to their Emmaus. Each as a Sherpa, mentor
and wizard –in-training behind the curtain, they had encouraged other pilgrims
to discover the universe within and without. Yet, their own sanctified gifts
that had been dormant in the recesses of their souls were insistent on making
way to the surface and great light. Bliss does not sleep.
The older one shared
“The encouragement by a member of the band helped me
become a channel for words from some unknown spiritual spring and placing them
in some type of pre-ordained construct. This same companion immersed me in
re-baptismal font of the ineffable
sacred joy of filling the silence by creating music. “
He continued with a secret smile
“ These transformational resuscitated creative experiences
are blessings and when I am channeling them as all sense of time is lost.
However, in this losing I have found my self again. “
He didn’t say, “ ’ where your heart is there is you
treasure.’ That is the heart of
the matter, isn’t it?” They all knew the truth.
As they all readied themselves to depart their temporary
safe harbor to resume their own passages the wind whispered dialog of a pair of
real wizard voices in the wilderness
BILL MOYERS:” Do you ever have the sense of...
being helped by hidden hands? “
JOSEPH CAMPBELL: “All the time. It is miraculous. I
even have a superstition that has grown on me as a result of invisible hands
coming all the time - namely, that if you do follow your bliss you put yourself
on a kind of track that has been there all the while, waiting for you, and the
life that you ought to be living is the one you are living. When you can see
that, you begin to meet people who are in your field of bliss, and they open
doors to you. I say, follow your bliss and don't be afraid, and doors will open
where you didn't know they were going to be. “
It
begins to rain again and the three hug….
“Peace
be with you”
“Until
next time”
“I pray
there will be a next time”
and
somehow they know whatever path they chose it will be the right road .Nothing had changed.
When I write my book
EVERYDAY I WRITE THE BOOK
Paperback writer
---------------------------
By learning you will
teach;
by teaching you will understand.
- Latin Proverb
by teaching you will understand.
- Latin Proverb
“I write to discover what I know.”
- Flannery O’Connor
- Flannery O’Connor
Music in the soul can be
heard by the universe.
- Lao Tsu
- Lao Tsu
After silence, that which
comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible is music.
- Aldous Huxley
- Aldous Huxley
“Though much is
taken, much abides; and though We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are; One equal temper of heroic
hearts, Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will To strive, to seek, to
find, and not to yield.
– (Ulysses, Alfred, Lord
Tennyson)
"If
you write for God, you will reach many men and bring them joy.
If you write for men, you
may make some money and you may give someone a little joy and you may make
noise in the world, for a little while.
If you write only for
yourself, you can read what you yourself have written and after ten minutes you
will be so disgusted, you will wish that you were dead."
- Thomas Merton
The Road Not Taken
Two roads diverged
in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I marked the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I marked the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
- Robert Frost
amdg
amdg
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