June NonRequired Reading List
Contemplify / NRR #103
“If Socrates drank his portion of hemlock willingly,
if the Appalachians have endured unending ages of erosion,
if the wind can learn to read our minds
and moonlight moonlight as a master pickpocket,
surely we can contend with contentment as our commission.”
The moon is stalking me. This fabled old space rock is in zealous pursuit of this contemplative shoveler. The moon has a phantom hold on my wheel. A moonbeam sedulously spots me and then trails me home without a drop of intensity. Moonlight is a master pickpocket, a sonata, and a feathered, edgeless hue. Compared to sunlight—which lights us up quicker than a bummed cigarette—can we really trust this orb of cheese that reflects fire without burning up?
I am on sabbatical for three driftless months. The sands of time are running out through my pockets. I am unearning, inattentive, and being unaccounted for in the sanctuary of capitalism. What a relief. Wasn’t it the great Rabbi Joshua Abraham Heschel who called sabbath a ‘sanctuary of time’? There is a holy whimsy in that phrase. Sanctuary of time conjures Dali-esque images of worship handless clocks. Perhaps as a lifetime member of Our Lady of the Tall Trees I will have a head start on this sabbatical. Our dandelion-pocked sanctuary smells of warm ponderosa pine, and, our river baptisms are not singular, but repeated daily. A sanctuary with a history like this holds a pretty good tack for plunging into a sabbatical energies. Time, on the other hand, is a streetfighter. And he fights dirty. I have reluctantly tangled with his left hook and limitations for years. My strained hip flexor and bloodied nose prove his brawn. My hope is that when time meets me in the sanctuary rather than on the streets, that consoled by beauty he will ice his knuckles while I sneak off to lesser known regions of the sanctum.
A hell of a lot of work has led me up to the steps of this sanctuary. This sabbatical has been a year in the making. Gratitude flows upward to my employer for building in this sabbatical rhythm and as well as out to my colleagues for picking up my absent slack. Putting my hands to good work is a gift, emptying those hands of work for a season is a grace. The first lesson of a sabbatical is that there is never a good time for a sabbatical. The task list that often bars the possibility of considering a sabbatical is just a long running joke without a punchline. The times are always urgent. The machines of war are all gassed up and tipsy powermongers are continually thirsty for more. Entering the sanctuary of time, the worry lines named “love for the world” and “love for neighbor” mark my brow. The pointy edge of paradox finds my soft spots and carves in deeper. My worries are carried in with me into the holy sanctuary the speaks chants and over and over again. The sanctuary of time is opening up before me. As a man with many interests I am as careful and discerning as a meter maid. I am consciously approaching this sanctuary of time without productive expectations. There is a stack of projects that I would love to start (and continue, and finish), friends and mentors I could visit, books dangling to be read, and so on. The work of my sabbatical is not to take on, but to take off, to undress, to shed. In fact, you might want to cover your eyes, a naked sabbatical man might walk through your sanctuary.
The visible work of this sabbatical is shedding; to shake off the dust from my sandals, release, and rest. Dropping meetings and emails was the first layer. That was too easy. Forgoing the overscheduled calendar. Simple. Not losing touch with loved ones, kindred spirits, and holy happenstance. Much more difficult. I can find an empty beach shell and make a home out of it, but isolation, like sunburn, is not a good look on me. Isolation only stokes my avoidant tendencies.
This brought me to wondering how I might relate within the Contemplify basecamp during my sabbatical. I took a good stretch of street fighting time to discern what might be the best mix for my Contemplify efforts. This is where I landed:
There will be no monthly NonRequired Reading List in July or August. I will pick it up again in September.
Season 6 of the Contemplify podcast will continue to be released (already recorded and ready to roll out). Listen to the trailer here.
The weekly Lo-Fi & Hushed Contemplative Practices will be recorded practices (aka repeats) from Wednesday, July 9 - Wednesday, July 30 (totaling 4 repeat practices) as I move about uninternetted areas. Lo-Fi & Hushed will return to its live format again on Wednesday, August 6.
Contemplify remains a joyful and unfettered endeavor of connection for me. I hope the same is true for you. Each Contemplify missive I share gives me that feeling after dropping a letter in the postbox—did I say too much? Not enough? And I eventually release its life out into the wilds, trusting that it will land gently and imperfectly, received in the same spirit it was sent.
The dark side of the moon mooned me. I give the moon credit, those sweet lunar cheeks are invisible to us earthlings without the sun’s spotlight so why not let them flap free in space. Last night I snuck out to confess my sins and share my dreams with the moon and wondered aloud, is it true that you are at peace hidden in darkness most of the time? That is when the moon responded by flipping around and mooning me. With only a moment to be shocked, that dogged moon bolted back round and shot me a Mona Lisa smile silently speaking of her unbroken rhythm of revealing and sheltering. These careful instructions from the moon are laughing me into a new hidden phase.
A number of friendly questions met me at the stoop of my new sanctuary. The most prominent, unhelpful but understandable, has been, what are you going to do on your sabbatical? Doing is what we know how to ask about. Activity is relatable. Asking about what you are not doing is unapproved small talk. So we dutifully avoid it. It is difficult to ask pre-peeled questions, questions that peel off prescriptions within the question themselves, dropping the receiver into a warm wonderfilled silence of discovery rather than requiring provable responses. I have received a few of these sweet bananas though. For example, my spiritual director said to me - I wonder who you are when you are rested? That is a doozy of a pre-peeled question (and one I hope to swim the backstroke in).
Mythologically speaking, my sabbatical journey seems to be split in two. It was not planned to be this way, it is what has emerged from when the dark side of the moon. It all begins with a preparatory period that runs out to an immersion point, a sacred spot where the ocean collides with the dark woods, and then I return to the open skies to empty a bucket of reflections into mountain streams. The murky specifics of division have been inexhaustible fodder for spiritual direction in all of its palatial forms in my life.
There is a softness of moonlight brushing the obscure edges of this sanctuary of time. The past has arms showing up to assist the moonlight work within me. I don’t have enough ink in my pen to write this clearly. But I know what it sounds like…a loon’s tremolo. A staid quiet, a fluttering tremolo that echoes before returning to stillness. I hope to find out what it means to live inside a tremolo over water.1
The dark side of the moon is hounding me. There is a softness in what is not understood, what has not been discovered, what has not been seen, so let us encourage each traveler we meet to go lightly and with heartful enthusiasm. Methinks this is being hosted while being hospitable. This is the wisdom of the light of the moon waving over our nightshaded eyes so we can see the bright ignorance of our days.
Contemplify seeks to howl at the mooncheeks with all contemplatives in the world. Each offering of Contemplify (podcasts, NonRequired Readings, Lo-Fi & Hushed Contemplative Practices) is meant to produce a low baying. Nothing is more precious than your presence and time. Thanks for your particular presence in this shared yelp. For those who wish to support Contemplify through monetary means, you can do so by pressing the button below. Becoming a paid subscriber is a kindness that helps Contemplify remain a free resource for contemplatives in the world. Some folks want to support with a few bucks simply for the sake of supporting Contemplify (Hidden ones, I raise my glass towards you).
Those who become paid subscribers are automatically invited to join the weekly Lo-Fi & Hushed Practice Session on Wednesday mornings. A regular communal contemplative practice that supports the rhythms of your one wild and precious life. You can practice live with me and a top shelf community of practitioners (except for July 9 - 30) or with the recording. Good, clean, contemplative fun. Hope to see you there.
(Also…because I am trying to make explicit what is implicit. If the Lo-Fi & Hushed Practice Sessions call to you but you don’t want to (or cannot) become a paid subscriber—no sweat—just add your name and email to this form and you will be included in the practice for free. Money should never ever be a barrier to contemplative practice or contemplative community. Practice makes practice. Always delighted to add more practitioners to the circle).2
June NonRequired Reading List
Danger on Peaks: Poems by Gary Snyder (Get it at the Public Library or Bookshop)
I read Gary Snyder like a church cookbook. Snyder is reliable, shares the ingredients, local stories, and with a heavy dose of playful temerity. Each time I pick up an essay or poem, I am spoiled by what is received. I don’t read him this way all the time, but some of the time. And for the last 5 years or so, a photo of Snyder hangs above my desk. He is looking directly into the lens of the camera over an empty breakfast plate. This photo means many a great deal of things to me, one is weatherworn presence.
Danger on Peaks is an exploration of weatherworn presence. The mountains strip the nonessentials and guide Snyder toward compassionate edges of his poetry. Snyder is a true believer of wisdom practiced in this world, he walks clear-eyed and without a cynical stick. Even in a poem like, “After Bamiyan“, he daringly connects the impermanence of all things through lyrical reflections on Nagasaki, September 11th, and the destruction of the great Buddhas at Bamiyan Valley. Read it twice. Let it hang on your lips before slipping back to your work on this quiet earth.
Danger on Peaks is for contemplatives who like a variety of incarnational crunches in their poems, a fine mixture of haikus, prose, and haibuns.
Water by Mevlana Jalaluddin Rumi and translated by Haleh Liza Gafori (Get it at the Public Library or Bookshop)
Mevlana Jalaluddin Rumi is a Persian poet who gets tossed into every religion and dressed in every tongue. I have no idea if he minds such party hopping. A Sufi mystic, who spills his intoxicating cup of the Beloved wherever his poetry falls. When I first heard a friend read from Gold (Haleh Liza Gafori first book of translated Rumi poems), I quickly transformed into a puddle that poured through the lawn chair I had been sitting on. After soaking myself in Gold, I was lucky enough to be in conversation with Haleh Liza Gafori (hear here) about it.
Water picks up where Gold left off. Gafori’s translations of Rumi let us know that the Beloved is still love drunk on us. The lyrical movements spring the words into a whirling dance of wisdom, passion, self-forgetfulness, and shameless love. Whenever traveling I often bring Gold, and now Water, with me as it shoots my toes into the earth and fruits blossom. Being grounded in love is what the poetry of Rumi does for me, no matter the soil I am standing on.
Water is for contemplative who need to be embarrassed by the Beloved daily to get over themselves.
The Agony of Eros by Byung-Chul Han (Get it at the Public Library or Bookshop)
On a whim I checked out The Agony of Eros from the library solely based on the title (after a friend had spouted off some wisdom around the theme of “erotic impulse”). Byung-Chul Han was new to me. Han is a South Korean-born philosopher and cultural theorist living in Germany. Late to the game as per usual, I was thrilled to learn that Byung-Chul Han has written dozens of small books with such luscious titles as Vita Contemplativa and The Scent of Time.
In The Agony of Eros Byung-Chul Han takes on modern love and declares it dead. Han says that the intimacy love requires is too risky for our digital thumbs and pudding pop minds. Mystery and texture have been replaced by algorithms, images, and flatscreens. Eroticism needs an “other” that is beyond wish fulfillment or cultural projections to flourish. Love is not the completion of one’s egoic personal self, but a dance hall for discovering the erotic mystery. Without blatantly saying it, Han makes eroticism a contemplative engagement.
The Agony of Eros is for those seeking to re-amorize life with the other (but remember that the erotic is beyond the page).
Contemplify Update
Season Six has opened with a trailer and episode one with Cynthia Bourgeault will arrive next week. As always you can find the complete list of Contemplify episodes here and below are the four most recent episodes of this season.
Intensification of Life (Season 6 Trailer)
Peter Traben Haas on Prayer as a Practice of Centering, Abiding, & Radiating (Season 5, Ep 15 - Season Finale)
Backporch Advent Outpost with Hadewijch and the Mother of Love (Season 5, Ep 14, Bonus)
Katherine May on Enchantment, Building Community, Tasting Words, and a Drink of Lake Water (Season 5, Ep 13)
All episodes are available from Contemplify through Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or wherever you get podcasts worth their salt.
Arts & Articles
WHO OWNS THE WEST? (The Sun) by David James Duncan: Drop back 27 years into the late 1990s and read this David James Duncan essay, “Who Owns the West?” and then read the chapter sharing the same title in his work, My Story as Told by Water for an expanded perspective. Selling land owned by 340 million Americans is troublesome on about seven generational levels. You will guess a few. This argument of selling off land to deep pockets will not end until we reexamine the fallacy of ownership and the truth of stewardship. Give it a read.
CAN KENDRICK LAMAR BE A PROPHET — AND BE RICH? (Sojourners) by Yanan Rahim Navarez Melo: Forgive the either/or headline of this article, but it is an excellent piece and even more, it dips into a profound practice of musica divina with the music of Kendrick Lamar. To me, this is a sign of life in contemplative culture. (h/t Josué)
KATHRYN SCHULZ (Ezra Klein Show) by Ezra Klein: Life is unkempt and yet we struggle with wanting clear lanes of understanding reality. How do we do this with constant interruption between the grave worries of the world and our loved ones at hand? This conversation wades into the fullness of what it means to live within the ‘and’. (h/t to Dave).
BRETHREN OF THE SAME PRINCIPLE: A FEW WORDS TOWARDS A BETTER POLITICS (Front Porch Republic) by Teddy Macker: Folks, this is dangerous open-hearted writing that is meant to help us readers kiss the foundation that rests on mystery. It has helped me lived with better questions and with a sense of reverence at the tip of my finger.
May the wisdom of the light
of the moon
waving over
nightshaded eyes
brighten
the ignorance of our days.
Under the moonshine,
Paul
P.S. A friendly reminder that the next NonRequired will land in your inbox in September.
All Bookshop purchase links give a kickback to a local New Mexico bookstore and Contemplify. Big thanks to all who support in this way.
Like you (hopefully) I fall into the camp that holds “secrecy [as] the guardian of spiritual integrity”. Sharing in the journey and defining the details of the journey are two different sides of two very different moons. So these cagey words are not an attempt to be a nascent tease, but a settling under the shadebelt of this emerging and mysterious sanctuary of time without shouting over its vital whispers. I beg your prayers that I may have ears to hear divine murmurs (that quotes comes from David James Duncan quoting Thomas Merton in this banger of a conversation in Orion with fellow maestro of the pen, Fred Bahnson).
Contemplify never wants money to be a filthy barrier to practice. So if you want to practice weekly with this contemplative basecamp at Lo-Fi & Hushed but aren’t able to offer support (no sweat!), drop your name and email here, I will add you to the next practice. We would be thrilled to have you practicing with us.
Paul, many blessings on your sabbatical. It was a gift to read your thoughts and intentions. Thank you for sharing in such a generous way.
Go gently: peace and all good .