Contemplify NonRequired Reading List for February 28, 2021
February NonRequired Reading List
Contemplative friend,
Ineffable crumbs tumble off the mystic table before this desert dog. Ever curious, I taste them and nudge a few bits onto your plate. Compliments of the slow meal of life. Crumbs honest enough to sustain the soul in the middlemarch of the foggy mundane. Prepare to savor tiny, juicy morsels in a kitchen cloyed by nonsense. Join me by bowing your head. Say grace and feel the hunger rumbling in your belly. Place these crumbs on your tongue.
“I delight to come to my bearings,—not walk in procession with pomp and parade, in a conspicuous place, but to walk even with the Builder of the universe, if I may,—not to live in this restless, nervous, bustling, trivial Nineteenth Century, but stand or sit thoughtfully while it goes by. What are men celebrating? They are all on a committee of arrangements, and hourly expect a speech from somebody. God is only the president of the day, and Webster is his orator. I love to weigh, to settle, to gravitate toward that which most strongly and rightfully attracts me;—not hang by the beam of the scale and try to weigh less,—not suppose a case, but take the case that is.” (p.308, Walden)
“The middle isn’t space between things; it is the world in its ongoing practices of worlding itself.” (p. 12, These Wilds Beyond Our Fences)
Hold these crumbs in your mouth and dare to “walk even with the Builder of the universe” in the practice of “worlding”. This walking and this worlding enlivens a mighty soul. These movements are daily exercises in humble expansion. This paradoxical expansion finds its footing on Fate’s tightrope, a twisted barbed wire of unforeseen circumstances. It is not a rational linear act on the time horizon nor is it a brief highwire performance before a crowd of anxious egos. It is a delicate soft shoe on the razor’s edge beneath inky interior clouds. A pregnable heart is a necessary carryon to endure this infinite walk. Courage too.
The mystics warn that you are bound to be nicked by the barbs of existence. The soul’s well-being is not dependent on safety, but meaning (rumor has it that nobody makes it off this tightrope alive). Hold the mystical crumbs in your mouth. Taste Beauty in every step. Stay awake, the mystics say, and share Mystery’s warm mittens on frigid nights. Sing songs of mercy along the way. The pangs of loneliness will be piercing, your feet will swell from the responsibility you carry, and you must bear the shaggy exhaustion of walking a line without an end. With practice, a fierce compassion swells from this uncalloused barefoot vulnerability. Embrace each kindred traveler you meet, for only the walking and worlding souls abide and enlarge in the midst of such relentless change.
A mighty soul is forever walking, forever worlding. A worthy vocation for all of us mangy bipeds.
February NonRequired Reading List
The Black Church: This Is Our Story. This Is Our Song. Hosted by Henry Louis Gates, Jr.
(Stream on PBS)
Church history fascinates me. The way humans gather and worship is integral to understanding our unique posture before Mystery, awe, and wonder in reverent meaning making. The docuseries The Black Church harnesses the power of the historical roots, gatherings, worship styles, and justice movements in the lives of Black people in the United States. This four hour series will guide you through 400 years of history in the Black Church; evangelism and enslavement, cross-pollination of spiritualities, contemplative practice, theological interpretation, holding the center of communities, justice orientation and much more. And the music along the way will pitch your home's ceiling into a cathedral.
The Bear by Andrew Krivak
(Get it at the Public Library or IndieBound)
The Bear is my favorite novel I have read in recent memory. It is the story of a father and daughter, the last two humans on the planet, cultivating a life in rhythm with the givens of nature. This story is told with tenderness, yet without sap, of the reality of survival, humanity’s precarious position, and the enduring flame of love. I hesitate to say more. I don’t want to spoil the serpentine journey of discovery, loss, deep listening, and homecoming that unfolds. Read The Bear and then listen to my conversation with the author Andrew Krivak here. Riveting the whole way through.
The Enchiridion by Epictetus
(Get it the Public Library or IndieBound)
When I was in conversation with Andrew Krivak he mentioned Epictetus as a formative influence. Epictetus and the Stoics had an oversized impact on me in high school. A school of philosophy that spoke aloud in the private and public square. After talking with Krivak I went back to Epictetus who pounded in the idea that an individual person holds very little control in their circumstances, but can enact a powerful leverage over their responses to circumstances. This humble turn of thought serves me well. Epictetus gets there early in The Enchiridion and repeats it throughout.
Contemplify Update
The three most recent episodes on Contemplify…
These episodes are available from Contemplify through these fine outlets: iTunes, Stitcher, Podbean, or Overcast
Arts & Articles
"Howard Thurman's "Fascist Masquerade": The Black thinker who saw this coming, 75 years ago" (Salon): There are some people who seem to have the capacity to read the tea leaves of the times and transcend that into deep universal seeing. These folks are the mystics, prophets, and poets. Howard Thurman is a person who embodied all three. In the 1940s, Howard Thurman saw that “the United States had to choose between democracy and fascism, and for Thurman the outcome was uncertain. But he was sure that American fascism would hide behind a homegrown vocabulary drawn from a toxic and intolerant Christianity and ultra-Americanism, disguising their real beliefs and intents. This was the fascist masquerade.”
“Cold Late Spring Bark River” by Jeffrey Foucault (Vimeo): That is the title of a tune that caught me looking from Foucault's latest offering Deadstock. It fits easy and reminds me of lazying around the banks of Lotus Lake. I do hope a beer gets named after this Jeffrey Foucault song. I long to hear myself say to a barkeep “Cold Late Spring Late Bark River Beer for me and my friends here.” Until that day, let’s enjoy this fine song.
“The Hill We Climb” by Amanda Gorman (PBS News): You likely saw Amanda Gorman read this last month, but it is worth revisiting as an ongoing clarion call. This is the power of poetry in civic and public life.
May your tightrope walk bounce without teetering.
May you taste the mystic crumbs and embrace the known stranger.
May a bear escort you home after curfew
as you sing songs of resilience in an uncontrollable world.
With nicks on my feet,
Paul
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P.P.S. The postings to kindle the examined life in a quarantined world are still being gathered, polished, and posted dailyish under Quarantined Qontemplative at the Contemplify basecamp.