A Leap Year Meditation: The Gift / February 29, 2012

                                                                              (   Click image)

He woke to the soft silent stately scintillating sun slipping through the creases in the blinds that had sealed out the cold dark of night from an unwelcomed entrance. Radiance. Consolation. Nurturing. Illumination!The Buddha heart within was opened. The unexpected gift was becoming clear with each breath. His eyes confirmed what his spirit had whispered in the first blink of the dawn. He was in receipt of a potential extra one thousand four hundred and forty. The sanctifying surgeon was at work again.

The mind nascarred itself harder and faster than it had ever done before. Faster. Faster. A wreck about to happen.

“There must be an answer! There must be a reason! What was done to earn such a gift? What does this mean? What shall I do?”

Rumi must have visited and converted him while in a dream! Whirling, whirling dhikr. He felt more dizzy than holy. But that was not unusual. The blackbird was singing like the first bird on the first morning. Everything was new again as if everything and every creature was reborn with him.

Jonah, the Prophet of Second Chances, watched from a distance with a smile.

“You need to listen.”

The great Greek chorus of his earthly angels raised their voices in harmonious gratitude.

“Amen! Amen! Amen!”

It was obvious to his simple frail human mind that all this was all a well-planned intervention…. or…. maybe it was some lost grace that finally found an empty soul to save. He had never expected to make it this far down the yellow brick road.

Little did he know that this was business as usual.  The universe delighted in immersing wandering spirits into a sea of love and wonder. No reward for any great deed or heroic effort is needed or required. No mystical slight of hand magic is ever involved. Sometimes just trying is enough. Sometimes the truth and just being is sufficient. Love just is and sometimes bonuses happen. 

http://www.panhala.net/Archive/Buddhas_Last_Instruction.html

                                                               (Click link above)

                                                                 ( Click image to play)

“…And when you feel afraid, love one another
When you’ve lost your way, love one another
When you’re all alone, love one another
When you’re far from home, love one another
When you’re down and out, love one another
All your hopes run out, love one another
When you need a friend, love one another
When you’re near the end, love one another
We got to love one another

Light of the world, you got to shine
Love will be a means, yeah, yeah
Shine on us all
Know that love can save the day
Just give it one more chance
Lord you just cant let it stop lord
Love is the answer
Got to be free to let love into your life
Let it shine…”

                                                 ( Just One Victory -Click image to play)

amdg

Exercising is good....for the Spirit!

It seems to me that most of us are aware that regular physical exercise increases one's stamina and can improve one's physical conditioning. My cardiologist insists that I spend more time with physical exercise and less time eating. Well, he did say I just need to change some of those eating habits and that just walking twenty minutes briskly per day might add to one's life ."However, rigorous exercise is better" ,he said. But again I knew that.

There are hundreds of exrecises to get us in shape for all kinds of things.Were you aware that Saint Ignatius of Loyola authored something which he calls the Spiritual Exercises?

One of these exercises Ignatius labeled as the "Examen" (http://norprov.org/spirituality/ignatianprayer.htm.) This exercise helps one reflect on the events,the people one has met and the thoughts one has had during the course of a day.Then one can explore where and how God was present.Though I have been aware of and practicing this exercise for years, this expereince of the Examen has been transformed,so to speak, since my CABG (Coronary Artery Bypass Graft Surgery)last August. In the past there were some very difficult periods where God or any good seemed to be quite absent from my life.Though now it seems as though that my surgery opened more than my heart .It opened up my spirit.I have learned that God has never been absent, I just haven't been present to God's presence.

Ignatius has become my "exercise trainer" and I am beginning to experience some serious "burn." I am grateful for the "Second Chance" at getting myself in shape. This was particularly evident when the other day I was having a series of negative stress-filled experiences. I couldn't get my "self" out of this funk or circumstances but then something happened within the blink of an eye and the beat of my heart.Let me explain.

The receptionist at the college office where I work interupted a conversation I was having with a co-worker. She said a student was here to see me.He didn't have an appointment and he wasn't even my student. Annoyed, I responded."Does this person have a name?" The receptionist said "Yes, he told me to tell you that his name is 'Thess' ." Without a second breath I knew right away who it was. I only knew of one person in my life who had that nickname. I repeated outloud his full name and the receptionist said "Yes, that's him!" She brought the man to my office and it was there I was reunited with this man who was a student of mine thirty odd years ago at another college.We hugged and talked as if it were only last week that we last saw each other. I introduced this former student to a current adult student of mine who provided me another "surprise" and gift. My current student recalled that my father had worked at a place called Best Foods that was now defunct. He said he was at an old Best Foods location earlier and he picked up a "Best Foods" pen just for me. Did I mention I say a daily prayer to and for my dad who passed almost thirty years ago? That gift of a pen with "Best Foods" printed on the side was as if my dad was reaching out saying that he is listening. I was moved that this current student had recalled stories I had told his class about my father and work.After my farewell to the reunion with my former student and a "thank you" to my current student I went on to the next unexpected gift as I was about to go and "teach" my next class.

I had asked my "Sociology of Work" students to write personal mission statements for themselves(what are thetr beliefs, values, how they want to be known and remembered etc.)The plan was then to review this statement and to explore any relationship it had their own personal career goal and resume. I had read one of the statements ahead of time and was moved as it spoke about improving one's relationship with God and something about reflecting this relationship by loving and serving others.I had silently wondered"I don't have a priest in this class, do I ?" Then at the beginning of class I put together the paper with a name and face and prior class discussions. At the break I called the busness suit cladded student aside and queried about his spiritual type personal mission. He shared that in a month he was off to join the Franciscan order. I was more humbled and filled with admiration than I was taken back by his comments.His story reminded me of Fr. James Martin SJ who went from being an investment banker to becoming a Jesuit .(See Fr. Martin's story in "In Good Company: The Fast Track from the Corporate World to Poverty, Chastity and Obedience "(Sheed & Ward: 2000.) When we returned to class my prescribed lesson plan drifted to a collaborative enthusiastic exchange about self actualization and doing what we love and what we are called to do.

"At the Day of Judgment we shall not be asked what we have read but what we have done; not how well we have spoken, but how holy we have lived."— Thoma A' Kempis Imitation of Christ: Book I, ch. 3

[This experience of meeting Thess, the gift of the pen and my student's vocation and subsequent class dicussion helped me recall reading another one of James Martin's book's "Becoming Who You Are: Insights on the True Self from Thomas Merton and Other Saints" (Paulist, 2006.)]I felt I have been given a lot to think about and to be grateful for. I read somewhere that the term vocation comes from the Latin "vocare"- "to listen to the voice within."]

The next morning during my pre-dawn reflective "Examen" time it was quite obvious where God was in my life the previous day. It was time to begin my spritual workout .The three uplifting incidents at the close of the evening before provided a quiet illumination on the graces of my second chance.It was not quite light yet when I spent the time in a silence only to be broken by the sound on a morning bird greeting a new day. (I had a sudden urge to dance...You know dancing is considered to be a great form of exercise for the heart and the spirit!)

Post Script:
Years ago when I had the privelege to witness a good friend taking his final vows as a Jesuit there was a special liturgy held in his honor. During this Mass a nun performed a spiritual slow jazz-ballet type dance in celebration. My youngest,Leigh, who was about 5 or so at the time, bolted out from the congregation to dance with the nun during the Mass. An older more reserved priest became anxious and signaled to gather up my daughter before it got out of hand. Was he worried that everyone would start dancing?

I didn't really realize until recently how special that incident was!! Thank you...Leigh, Nancy and Lou!

Post Post Script

My wife and I went down to Philly to attend a Sorority function with Leigh at St. Joseph's University last Sunday. After the function we went off to relax in Leigh's apartment. I put on TV and a neat movie about a real "Second Chance" person,Jim Morris, was on,"The Rookie." Of course one of my favorite flicks. Jim Morris, a high school teacher and baseball coach,was given the opportunity later in his life to take a shot at playing major league baseball. He sought some advice from his father about taking a chance to play major league basball so late in life. The father quotes Jim's grandfather "It's ok to do what you want to do,but there comes a time to do what you are meant to do." I asked my wife it were me would she mind me taking off for a second chance. Leigh and I looked at her... waiting for her answer.

Post Post Post Script

Coincidentally I read the following quote from St.Catherine of Siena on her Feast Day of April 29,2009
" If you are what you are meant to be, you will set the world on fire"

The Day the Poetry Died

A couple of weeks after my CABG (Coronary Artery Bypass Graft) in 2008 I found my way to the Dodge Poetry Festival that was held a few miles from my home. Still physically weak , my soul also required a shot of spiritual adrenaline and I was called to this gathering of poets from around the world.It was a festival that was held for the past twenty two years every two years in of all places Northwestern New Jersey!It's been featured on PBS television and written about in books and magazines. I had the opportunity to attend five of these festivals previously and was present to see and hear Poets Laureate Billy Collins, Robert Pinsky, Stanley Kunitz, Ted Kooser, Robert Hass, Ed Hirsch and master poets such as Mark Doty, Lucille Clifton and my hero of early poetic and manly journey - Robert Bly. "The Woodstock of poetry" has been its label.One year it rained all weekend and I believe I heard Carlos Santana's drummers off in the distance as we slid in the mud from tent to tent.

http://www.dodgepoetry.org/

Coming from a narrow escape from the grips of the grim reaper I was grasping for hope and optimism on what would might become my last visit . I was so anxoius that I sought out and met with poet Ted Kooser,a businessman turned poet, and shared with him my surgery,my new life and yet to be celebrated newly found song of the second chance dance. Though he looked at me with an uncomfortable sympathetic grin he autographed signed my book. I was a seeker and I found him!

But this visit to these hallowed grounds was also just days since my friend's tragic suicide.He had lost hope . His favorite poet was Robert Frost and it seemred he didn't take Frost's words to heart.It seems his drastic painfilled act was a precursor to the major economic catastrophy of what was about to consume the the world. I still wonder if he knew what was coming. He was very close to major players in the investment banking world and if you saw him or saw where he worked you wouldn't expect him to be a lover of poetry.Maybe it was as simple as banking and poetry are like oil and water.

"A long, long time ago...
I can still remember
How that music(poetry) used to make me smile.
And I knew if I had my chance
That I could make those people dance
And, maybe, theyd be happy for a while.

But february made me shiver
With every paper Id deliver.
Bad news on the doorstep;
I couldnt take one more step

I cant remember if I cried..." (from American Pie, Don McLean)

We all know what happened to the economy at the end of 2008 and beginning of 2009.It was February 2009 ,I think, when I read another shocking obit.The Dodge Foundation was cancelling future poetry festivals. The economic plaque of the world had found its way to clogging the arteries of the heart of poetry. But the Dodge Foundation assured the world that even though the festival was gone poetry was not dead and the foundation would still find ways to serve,but on a much smaller scale. Sounding much like my cardiologist, "courage" they said.

Someone mentioned"As long as some hearts hope and ..as long as trees bloom, birds fly and sing , rivers flow and mountains kiss the clouds,...there will be poetry." With death there is life.

Listen to Billy Collins read his poem "The First Night." Here is a link of reading three poems including the second "The First Night" at last fall's festival.That's me over on his right side about 3/4 the way up in the audiennce.LOL

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kKFe0wY-7-A&feature=channel_page

I have also included my little farewell and thanks to the festival.


Dodge Requiem

I didn’t know it would be the last gathering
Of voices calling out
In the wilderness.
I didn’t know that when I first heard
The greek chorus chanting
That some economic wind
Would try as hard as it could
to blow out their flame .
I didn’t know that it would come to end before
My own soul would transcend this existence.
Part of my heart’scheduled rehabilitaion -
I wonder and wander now,
weathered worn journeyman,
“Was all this just some cruel joke or ploy.?”
Remembering…Companion searching souls
On our way to Emmaus
Together we anxiously listened
To the weekend’s wind,
Fed together at the mecca of words.
I parked myself at heaven’s opened gate
But the meter was running out of coins and time.
Remembering…Another year, another day
Brown eyed rock and roll woman to be
a seeker numbered 21
Became consumed with delight
A spirit inebriated by a unique Collins.

Arisans ,philoshophers, searchers,
discovers of the eight or nine great mysteries
Seers and Finders of a light in their own right
deserved of the crown of laureate.
Inspirers, consolers, wisdom word weavers.
Over the years their blessings cast out
To the throngs yearning for something more.
One crowned prince peeled back his layers
Humbled recollections of his own illumination
From his private odyssey,
The best was yet to come.
Would I do anything different
If I had known that this pilgrimmage
would be one last procession in collaborative communion?
Filled with hope and champagne
hopped the bus with the troubador
To Atlantic City where everything comes back.

-- J. Sobecki

Finding your voice and your dream

During an English class I was teaching this morning I showed my students a video of Susan Boyle who is a contestant on a British talent show. You have probably seen it or heard about it.
I asked the students , "What does this video have to do with poetry?Why did the audiennce who witnessed this performance react the way they did ?"(I am not going to describe the video event here as it is ineffable and you have to see it for yourself.)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9lp0IWv8QZY

The contestant,Susan Boyle, had decided to sing "I dreamed a dream" from Les Miserables. After witnessing the video my students began to discuss how the performance exemplified the significance of holding on to one's dreams. One student volunteered that the relationship between this video and poetry is about finding one's voice. "Our voice is our spirit.Our voice is who we are." There was a consensus that those who witness this woman's performance are lifted up with admiration for her but they are also fed a sense of hope for this contestant as well as for themselves.In many ways the singer has proven her own words of her own song to be wrong.One who dares to keep the dream alive can live the dream. She sings for us as well as for herself.

I couldn't help but to think about one of my favorite poets,Mary Oliver, and one of her poems ,"Autumn Poem." Here Oliver writes about persistence, hope and finding one's own voice. This is not a celebration of accomplishment or success but rather a desire for an awareness of becoming who we are meant to be completely. It's been said that "where you heart is there is your treasure also" Matt 6:19

A good friend, Pat, reminded me today that we need to celebrate our second chance every day we wake, and pray that this will be the day that we find and celebrate our own voice(our own heart our soul.) Somedays I feel like a contestant in some great master talent show. Somedays I feel like a plain Susan who has been given a second chance to live my dream by finding my voice and to have it heard. I hope today is your day.


Autumn Poem

In the last jovial, clear-sky days of autumn
the mockingbird
in his monk-gray coat
and his arrowy wings

flies
from the hedge to the top of the pine
and begins to sing — but it's neither loose, nor lilting, nor lovely —

it's more like whistles and truck brakes and dry hinges.
All birds are birds of heaven
but this one, especially, adores the earth so well
he would imitate, for half the day and on into the
evening,

its ticks and wheezings,
and so I have to wait a long time
for the soft, true voice
of his own glossy life

to come through,
and of course I do.
I don't know what it is that makes him, finally, look
inward

to the sweet spring of himself, that mirror of heaven,
but when it happens —
when he lifts his head
and the feathers of his throat tremble,

and he begins, like Saint Francis,
little flutterings and leapings from the pine's forelock,
resettling his strong feet each time among the branches,
I am recalled,

from so many wrong paths I can't count them,
simply to stand, and listen.
All my life I have lived in a kind of haste and darkness
of desire, ambition, accomplishment.

Now the bird is singing, but not anymore of this world.
And something inside myself is fluttering and leaping, is
trying

to type it down, in lumped-up language,
in outcry, in patience, in music, in a snow-white book.

- Mary Oliver