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/script> style typetext/css>img.wp-smiley,img.emoji { display: inline !important; border: none !important; box-shadow: none !important; height: 1em !important; width: 1em !important; margin: 0 .07em !important; vertical-align: -0.1em !important; background: none !important; padding: 0 !important;}/style>meta namegenerator contentWordPress 4.8.11 />/head>body>div idpage>div idheader> div idheaderimg onclickdocument.location.href/;void(0); stylecursor:pointer> h1>a hrefindex.html>Phronema/a>/h1> div classdescription>/div> /div>/div>hr /> div idcontent classnarrowcolumn> div classpost-519 post type-post status-publish format-standard hentry category-meditation category-uncategorized idpost-519> h2>a hrefindex.html%3Fp519.html relbookmark titlePermanent Link to Morning darkness>Morning darkness/a>/h2> small>August 23rd, 2017 !-- by William -->/small> div classentry> p> /p>p>a hrefwp-content/uploads/2017/08/Dawn-1-of-1.jpg>img classaligncenter size-medium wp-image-521 srcwp-content/uploads/2017/08/Dawn-1-of-1-300x200.jpg alt width300 height200 srcsetwp-content/uploads/2017/08/Dawn-1-of-1-300x200.jpg 300w, wp-content/uploads/2017/08/Dawn-1-of-1-768x512.jpg 768w, wp-content/uploads/2017/08/Dawn-1-of-1-1024x683.jpg 1024w sizes(max-width: 300px) 100vw, 300px />/a>/p>p classp1>In the morning darkness/p>p classp1>Silence, waiting./p>p classp1>Once, there was expectancy./p>p classp1>Once there was a presence./p>p classp1>Now, silence,/p>p classp1>Solitude./p>p classp1>It is not/p>p classp1>uncomfortable,/p>p classp1>or upsetting,/p>p classp1>this waiting./p> /div> p classpostmetadata> Posted in a hrefindex.html%3Fcat9.html relcategory>Meditation/a>, a hrefindex.html%3Fcat1.html relcategory>Uncategorized/a> | a hrefindex.html%3Fp519.html#respond>No Comments »/a>/p> /div> div classpost-514 post type-post status-publish format-standard hentry category-god tag-r-s-thomas tag-the-sea idpost-514> h2>a hrefindex.html%3Fp514.html relbookmark titlePermanent Link to Waiting>Waiting/a>/h2> small>August 22nd, 2017 !-- by William -->/small> div classentry> p>a hrefwp-content/uploads/2017/08/Waves-1-of-1-1.jpg>img classaligncenter size-medium wp-image-516 srcwp-content/uploads/2017/08/Waves-1-of-1-1-300x200.jpg alt width300 height200 srcsetwp-content/uploads/2017/08/Waves-1-of-1-1-300x200.jpg 300w, wp-content/uploads/2017/08/Waves-1-of-1-1-768x512.jpg 768w, wp-content/uploads/2017/08/Waves-1-of-1-1-1024x683.jpg 1024w sizes(max-width: 300px) 100vw, 300px />/a>/p>p> /p>p classp1>span classs1>Reading Rowan Williams i>The Wound of Knowledge/i>. It is so difficult to find something spiritual which I can stomach./span>/p>p classp1>span classs1> The first point he makes is the radical and shocking otherness of the Christ event. At the time no one in their right mind could have imagined such a divine intervention. /span>/p>p classp1>span classs1>But then ‘otherness’ is, more often than not I think, the first striking characteristic of an experience of God. /span>/p>p classp1>span classs1>He is the Wholly Other, beyond anything we could ever have imagined. /span>/p>p classp1>span classs1>Likewise his actions. He reveals himself not in powerful theophanies but in weakness and failure. /span>/p>p classp1>span classs1>Not an attractive notion, not an idea one can comfortably welcome./span>/p>p classp1>span classs1>We are all too aware 0f our insufficiency, of the three brute facts of existence – powerlessness, contingency and scarcity. /span>/p>p classp1>span classs1>The last idea we would want to welcome is one which counters our instinctive drive for autonomy, /span>/p>p classp1>span classs1>to achieve some measure of power and control over our own lives. /span>/p>p classp1>span classs1>Nietzsche despised what he considered Christian weakness and quite rightly said, /span>/p>p classp1>span classs1>‘God is dead’, /span>/p>p classp1>span classs1>i.e. the kind of god he imagined God to be, a God of power and might. /span>/p>p classp1>span classs1>Such a god never existed, though he continues to exist in the imaginations of such as Richard Dawkins. /span>/p>p classp1>span classs1>The drive for power, autonomy and control must always end in failure because of the contingency of our existence. /span>/p>p classp1>span classs1>What Jesus revealed was a way of being which ultimately leads to transcendence. The God Jesus revealed is utterly transcendent and at the same time immediately present in the act of loving. /span>/p>p classp1>span classs1>God does not exist over and against us, out there, up there. /span>/p>p classp1>span classs1>God is encountered within, within oneself, within Himself. /span>/p>p classp1>span classs1>Inspan classApple-converted-space> /span>the mornings I sit in darkness, /span>/p>p classp1>span classs1>darkness without, darkness within, /span>/p>p classp1>span classs1>waiting. /span>/p>p classp1>span classs1>Half remembered lines of R S Thomas come and go. /span>/p>p classp1>span classs1>He too knew this darkness, this absence, this silence. /span>/p>p classp1>span classs1>It is a sacred time, /span>/p>p classp1>span classs1>a time of stillness, of expectancy, /span>/p>p classp1>span classs1>like the withdrawing water, the hush, /span>/p>p classp1>span classs1>before the incoming wave smothers the shore. /span>/p>p classp1>span classs1>No sign of the wave yet, /span>/p>p classp1>span classs1>but it’s out there – /span>/p>p classp1>span classs1>coming./span>/p> /div> p classpostmetadata>Tags: a hrefindex.html%3Ftagr-s-thomas.html reltag>R S Thomas/a>, a hrefindex.html%3Ftagthe-sea.html reltag>the sea/a>br /> Posted in a hrefindex.html%3Fcat5.html relcategory>God/a> | a hrefindex.html%3Fp514.html#respond>No Comments »/a>/p> /div> div classpost-494 post type-post status-publish format-standard hentry category-being-human tag-faces tag-levinas tag-person tag-rilke tag-the-other idpost-494> h2>a hrefindex.html%3Fp494.html relbookmark titlePermanent Link to Faces>Faces/a>/h2> small>September 29th, 2015 !-- by William -->/small> div classentry> p>a hrefwp-content/uploads/2015/09/Faces-1-of-1-24.jpg>img classalignleft size-full wp-image-495 titleFaces (1 of 1)-2 srcwp-content/uploads/2015/09/Faces-1-of-1-24.jpg alt width500 height361 srcsetwp-content/uploads/2015/09/Faces-1-of-1-24.jpg 500w, wp-content/uploads/2015/09/Faces-1-of-1-24-300x216.jpg 300w sizes(max-width: 500px) 100vw, 500px />/a>/p>p> /p>p>“… I have never been aware before/p>p stylepadding-left: 60px;>how many faces there are./p>p stylepadding-left: 60px;>There are quantities of human beings,/p>p stylepadding-left: 60px;>but there are many more faces,/p>p stylepadding-left: 60px;>for each person has several.”/p>p stylepadding-left: 60px;>em>Rilke -Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge/em>/p>p stylepadding-left: 60px;>p stylepadding-left: 30px;>The Greek word for face is em>prosopon. /em>/p>p stylepadding-left: 30px;>It came, for obvious reasons, to meanem> person. /em>/p>p stylepadding-left: 30px;>To see a face is to see a person./p>p stylepadding-left: 30px;>From birth it is the face, rather than anything else,/p>p stylepadding-left: 30px;>that grabs our attention./p>p stylepadding-left: 30px;>There are times when faces reveal and times when they conceal./p>p stylepadding-left: 30px;>At all times the face of the other challenges me,/p>p stylepadding-left: 30px;>forces itself on my attention./p>p stylepadding-left: 30px;>In Levinas’ words – I am not an ‘unto-myself’,/p>p stylepadding-left: 30px;>but a ‘standing-before-the-other’./p>p stylepadding-left: 30px;>The other evokes a response,/p>p stylepadding-left: 30px;>makes a claim on my existence./p>p stylepadding-left: 30px;>We are linked./p>p stylepadding-left: 30px;>I cannot be indifferent./p>p stylepadding-left: 30px;>To some extent I am responsible./p> /div> p classpostmetadata>Tags: a hrefindex.html%3Ftagfaces.html reltag>faces/a>, a hrefindex.html%3Ftaglevinas.html reltag>Levinas/a>, a hrefindex.html%3Ftagperson.html reltag>person/a>, a hrefindex.html%3Ftagrilke.html reltag>Rilke/a>, a hrefindex.html%3Ftagthe-other.html reltag>the other/a>br /> Posted in a hrefindex.html%3Fcat4.html relcategory>Being human/a> | a hrefindex.html%3Fp494.html#respond>No Comments »/a>/p> /div> div classpost-477 post type-post status-publish format-standard hentry category-being-human tag-etty-hillesom tag-listening tag-r-s-thomas idpost-477> h2>a hrefindex.html%3Fp477.html relbookmark titlePermanent Link to Messages>Messages/a>/h2> small>September 27th, 2015 !-- by William -->/small> div classentry> p styletext-align: center;>a hrefwp-content/uploads/2015/09/Figure-1-of-1.jpg>img classsize-full wp-image-478 titleFigure (1 of 1) srcwp-content/uploads/2015/09/Figure-1-of-1.jpg alt width386 height500 srcsetwp-content/uploads/2015/09/Figure-1-of-1.jpg 386w, wp-content/uploads/2015/09/Figure-1-of-1-231x300.jpg 231w sizes(max-width: 386px) 100vw, 386px />/a>/p>p stylepadding-left: 60px;>For me now/p>p stylepadding-left: 60px;>there is only the God-space/p>p stylepadding-left: 60px;>into which I send out/p>p stylepadding-left: 60px;>my probes. I had looked forward/p>p stylepadding-left: 60px;>to old age as a time/p>p stylepadding-left: 60px;>of quietness, a time to draw/p>p stylepadding-left: 60px;>my horizons about me,/p>p stylepadding-left: 60px;>to watch memories ripening/p>p stylepadding-left: 60px;>in the sunlight of a walled garden./p>p stylepadding-left: 60px;>But there is the void/p>p stylepadding-left: 60px;>over my head and the distance/p>p stylepadding-left: 60px;>within that the tireless signals/p>p stylepadding-left: 60px;>come from. And astronaut/p>p stylepadding-left: 60px;>on impossible journeys/p>p stylepadding-left: 60px;>to the far side of the self/p>p stylepadding-left: 60px;>I return with messages/p>p stylepadding-left: 60px;>I cannot decipher . . . R S Thomas/p>p>“… it probably sounds very pretentious when I say the I feel impelled to explain my inner processes to all mankind./p>p>Not to some individual in a private conversation but to all mankind, yes, to all of them…/p>p>It is nonsense of course, sitting at my desk and making a fool of myself because I can’t find the right words,/p>p>but sometimes I feel as if everything I experience deep down is not just for me, that I have no right to keep it to myself, that I must account for it…/p>p>As if in this tiny slice of human history I were one of the many receiving sets which have to retransmit messages.”/p>p>(em>Etty: The Letters and Diaries of Etty Hillesom 1941 – 1943, /em>Smelik, K.A.D ed, Eerdmans, Cambridge 2002, p. 393)/p> /div> p classpostmetadata>Tags: a hrefindex.html%3Ftagetty-hillesom.html reltag>Etty Hillesom/a>, a hrefindex.html%3Ftaglistening.html reltag>Listening/a>, a hrefindex.html%3Ftagr-s-thomas.html reltag>R S Thomas/a>br /> Posted in a hrefindex.html%3Fcat4.html relcategory>Being human/a> | a hrefindex.html%3Fp477.html#respond>No Comments »/a>/p> /div> div classpost-473 post type-post status-publish format-standard hentry category-being-human category-reality tag-dreams tag-reality tag-silence tag-the-sea tag-zen idpost-473> h2>a hrefindex.html%3Fp473.html relbookmark titlePermanent Link to Silence>Silence/a>/h2> small>September 26th, 2015 !-- by William -->/small> div classentry> p styletext-align: center;>a hrefwp-content/uploads/2015/09/Sea-1-of-1.jpg>img classsize-full wp-image-474 titleSea srcwp-content/uploads/2015/09/Sea-1-of-1.jpg alt width500 height295 srcsetwp-content/uploads/2015/09/Sea-1-of-1.jpg 500w, wp-content/uploads/2015/09/Sea-1-of-1-300x177.jpg 300w sizes(max-width: 500px) 100vw, 500px />/a>/p>p>Morning – the reality of my dreamworld imposes on my waking mood./p>p>So real – almost tangible – emotion filled – then the dreams evaporate like morning mist./p>p>A false reality… fake… spurious…?/p>p>Or a window into something more./p>p>And then, during the day, during the routine activities, thoughts of another reality,/p>p>or perhaps a non-reality,/p>p>intrude – thoughts of an afterlife./p>p>Whenever I think of the other-life world of dreams, I wonder whether the after-life world of death might not be something similar./p>p>That would make it very like the after-life dimension of the ancient Greeks, Hades, shadowy and unsubstantial./p>p>Not really greatly to be desired but better, perhaps, than total annihilation./p>p>And in my heart I don’t believe the afterlife is anything like that./p>p>The glimpses of a transcendent reality that I have had all through my life must count for something./p>p> /p>p>Later… walking on a beautiful sunny day./p>p>I am deeply moved by the silence,/p>p>silence that is accentuated by the gentle sound of the sea and the wind./p>p>The silence is like the sea – vast, deep./p>p>I just want to stand here by the sea and lose myself in it./p>p>Lose myself… I begin to understand the emptiness beloved of Zen./p>p>Sunyata./p>p>What is experienced in this vast emptiness cannot be articulated, cannot be conceived,/p>p>but it is felt./p> /div> p classpostmetadata>Tags: a hrefindex.html%3Ftagdreams.html reltag>dreams/a>, a hrefindex.html%3Ftagreality.html reltag>Reality/a>, a hrefindex.html%3Ftagsilence.html reltag>Silence/a>, a hrefindex.html%3Ftagthe-sea.html reltag>the sea/a>, a hrefindex.html%3Ftagzen.html reltag>Zen/a>br /> Posted in a hrefindex.html%3Fcat4.html relcategory>Being human/a>, a hrefindex.html%3Fcat11.html relcategory>Reality/a> | a hrefindex.html%3Fp473.html#respond>No Comments »/a>/p> /div> div classpost-461 post type-post status-publish format-standard hentry category-meaning category-reality idpost-461> h2>a hrefindex.html%3Fp461.html relbookmark titlePermanent Link to Rage against the dying of the light>Rage against the dying of the light/a>/h2> small>April 10th, 2014 !-- by William -->/small> div classentry> p stylepadding-left: 30px;>Do not go gentle into that good night,br />Old age should burn and rave at close of day;br />Rage, rage against the dying of the light./p>p>As you get older the intimations of mortality increase. Abilities decline, especially the ability to do sustained and constructive work. More and more effort is required to accomplish even the most trivial of tasks. The desire and the ability to engage in the day to day preoccupations of those with whom you live diminishes and you begin to live a little apart. The temptation arises just to let go and let be, to drift, averting the gaze from the steadily approaching terminus by occupying the mind with distractions. Rather than beginning to divest yourself of the accumulated baggage, the detritus of an often uncoordinated life, you cling to memories, to the comforting and the familiar. You arrived naked and alone, naked and alone you will depart – but this thought, lurking in the shadows of the mind, is not allowed. Instead the mind preoccupies itself with entertainment./p>p>You can see where Dylan Thomas is coming from. He was young then, full of passion and the fire of youth. To watch his father quietly approaching death was very painful. He did not understand what it is to be old, what it is to have every option taken away, what it is to be lying in the anteroom, waiting for the final door to open. He understood that his father was dying, that his body was failing and could not support life for much longer. His understanding, though, was rational, an intellectual grasp but not a physical, nor an emotional one. Marx said that, ‘It is not the consciousness of men that determines their being, but, on the contrary, their social being that determines their consciousness.’ For Marx social being included and was part of material being. Dylan’s material being was that of a young and vigorous man. He could not appreciate what it was to be old, feeble and at the point of death. So he raged, and willed his father to rage ‘against the dying of the light’./p>p>We don’t know what Dylan’s father felt. However, the approach of death, to paraphrase Samuel Johnson, does concentrate the mind wonderfully, leading to an acute awareness of this moment now. Normally we tend to live in our heads, caught up in thoughts, projecting ourselves forwards, backwards, elsewhere, as we deal with a multitude of preoccupations. Normally the mind’s focus is anywhere but here and now unless compelled by immediate circumstances. For those facing death, however, this moment now achieves an intensity perhaps never before felt. And out of that heightened awareness arise two questions, like two sides of the same coin, ‘What does it mean to live? What does it mean to die?span stylefont-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;> /span>/p>p>For Christians questions concerning the meaning of life and death find answers in the life and words of Jesus Christ. To live is to love with a degree of unselfishness which only makes sense, and perhaps is only possible, if I am not just ‘I’, ‘me’ but ‘we’, ‘us’. Ultimately it is to make the discovery that my being is in God. And to die is to make the transition from this life to a risen life in Christ./p>p>For Buddhists to live is to strive to unself the self; to strive to see reality as it is and not as we would have it be; to discover, as the Heart Sutra puts it, that ‘form is emptiness and emptiness is form’. At the heart of Buddhism is the idea ‘em>pratityasamutpada/em>’, codependency. Nothing exists of itself alone, everything is dependent on a multitude of causes. To live is to strive to pierce through the multitude of appearances to the emptiness that underlies them, to the extinction that is death, to ultimate reality./p>p>The ‘now’ of those moments before death is unlike any other ‘now’. This is where the journey ends. There will be no transition into the future. No future, simply those two pressing questions to which no satisfactory answer is possible. This is the now of the mystery of life and death. Only hope remains./p>p stylepadding-left: 30px;>Les mille voix de l’énorme mystèrebr />Parlent autour de toi,br />Les mille lois de la nature entièrebr />Bougent autour de toi,br />Les arcs d’argent de l’invisiblebr />Prennent ton âme et sa ferveur pour cible.br />Mais tu n’as peur, oh ! simple coeur,br />Mais tu n’as peur, puisque ta foibr />Est que toute la terre collaborebr />A cet amour que fit éclorebr />La vie et son mystère en toi./p>p stylepadding-left: 30px;>a hrefhttp://poesie.webnet.fr/lesgrandsclassiques/poemes/emile_verhaeren/emile_verhaeren.html>Émile VERHAEREN/a>: em>Viens lentement t’asseoir/em>/p>p> /p> /div> p classpostmetadata> Posted in a hrefindex.html%3Fcat8.html relcategory>Meaning/a>, a hrefindex.html%3Fcat11.html relcategory>Reality/a> | a hrefindex.html%3Fp461.html#respond>No Comments »/a>/p> /div> div classpost-454 post type-post status-publish format-standard hentry category-god category-love idpost-454> h2>a hrefindex.html%3Fp454.html relbookmark titlePermanent Link to Creation and the hidden God>Creation and the hidden God/a>/h2> small>October 18th, 2013 !-- by William -->/small> div classentry> p>Came across this the other day by Simone Weil –/p>p>em>La création est de la part de Dieu un acte non pas d’expansion de soi, mais de retrait, de renoncement. Dieu et toutes les créatures, cela est moins que Dieu seul. Dieu a accepté cette diminution. Il a vidé de soi une partie de l’être. Il s’est vidé déjà dans cet acte de sa divinité; c’est pourquoi saint Jean dit que l’Agneau a été égorgé dès la constitution du monde. Dieu a permis d’exister à des choses autres que lui et valant infiniment moins que lui. Il s’est par l’acte créateur nié lui-même, comme le Christ nous a prescrit de nous nier nous-mêmes. Dieu s’est nié en notre faveur pour nous donner la possibilité de nous nier pour lui. Cette réponse, cet écho, qu’il dépend de nous de refuser, est la seule justification possible à la folie d’amour de l’acte créateur. Les religions qui ont conçu ce renoncement, cette distance volontaire, cet effacement volontaire de Dieu, son absence apparente et sa présence secrète ici-bas, ces religions sont la religion vraie, la traduction en langages différents de la grande Révélation. Les religions qui représentent la divinité comme commandant partout où elle en a le pouvoir sont fausses. Même si elles sont monothéistes, elles sont idolâtres./em>/p>p>em>* Texte repris dans « Attente de Dieu », préface de J.-M. Perrin, La Colombe-éditions dubr />Vieux Colombier, 1950. /em>/p>p>I am not sure whether it is possible to have a ‘less than God alone’, but I can see where Simone Weil is coming from in saying that in the act of creation God caused something to exist which was not himself. There is a profound truth here which says something about the humility of God. And about the nature of love. Love is not coercive. It always includes the possibility of rejection. In order to give us this freedom God hides himself – a very anthropomorphic way of putting things. It reminds me of the story of children playing hide and seek. One boy hid himself so well that after a time the others, who couldn’t find him, got fed up and went off. Eventually the boy emerged and, dismayed at being abandoned, went crying to his father, a rabbi. The rabbi, when he heard what had happened, wrapped the boy in his arms and said, ‘Now you know what it is like for God. He is hidden everywhere but no one is looking for Him.’/p>p>What a complex process this journey through life is. The Ten Ox-herding Pictures beloved of Zen describe it well – again in simple anthropomorphic terms. The important thing is the initial insight, moment of curiosity, question, call it what you will. And so often the beginning of the journey is full of excitement and discovery. But as the journey progresses the going gets more difficult and we have to shed so much baggage just to keep going (useful at the beginning but now a hindrance). Or perhaps it is the case that our baggage is taken from us and we are left, bereft of all that consoled, encouraged and comforted, alone with darkness all around./p>p>It is this great absencebr />that is like a presence, that compelsbr />me to address it without hopebr />of a reply.It is a room I enter/p>p>from which someone has justbr />gone, the vestibule for the arrivalbr />of one who has not yet come.br />I modernise the anachronism/p>p>of my language, but he is no more herebr />than before. Genes and moleculesbr />have no more power to callbr />him up than the incense of the Hebrews/p>p>at their altars. My equations failbr />as my words do. What resources have Ibr />other than the emptiness without him of my wholebr />being, a vacuum he may not abhor?/p>p>R. S. Thomas/p> /div> p classpostmetadata> Posted in a hrefindex.html%3Fcat5.html relcategory>God/a>, a hrefindex.html%3Fcat7.html relcategory>Love/a> | a hrefindex.html%3Fp454.html#respond>No Comments »/a>/p> /div> div classpost-446 post type-post status-publish format-standard hentry category-meditation category-uncategorized idpost-446> h2>a hrefindex.html%3Fp446.html relbookmark titlePermanent Link to The Listener>The Listener/a>/h2> small>May 11th, 2013 !-- by William -->/small> div classentry> p>span stylefont-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;>There was the Other Voice Owl of the World. He sat in the world tree laughing in his front voice, only his other voice was not laughing. His other voice was saying the silence. He had a way of saying it. He said it wide and far when he began. He said it tiny when it came close. He kept saying the silence like that in his other voice and when he finished the silence swallowed up the sounds of the world and the owl swallowed up the silence./span>/p>p> /p>p>No one knew he was doing it. He was trying to swallow all the sounds of the world and then there would be no more world because everything would follow its sound into the silence and then it would be gone. What the owl had in mind was to get it all swallowed and then fly away. He only did it at night. He thought he’d get some of it swallowed every night until the whole world was gone away./p>p> /p>p>No one knew what the owl was doing except for a child. He didn’t have any eyes. He listened all the time. When he heard the owl saying the silence in his other voice he heard the silence swallowing up the sounds of the world, little and big, from the wind sighing in the trees to the ants crying in their holes. The child knew the owl was trying to say the whole world away and he knew it was up to him to stop the owl, so he began to listen everything back. He listened far and wide when he began, he listened tiny when it came close. The eye of the goat and the dance in the stone and the beetle digging a grave for the sparrow. He listened them into his ear holes and he kept them all safe there. The foot steps of the moth and the sea foam hissing on the strand. He listened everything back./p>p> /p>p>The child only kept the sounds in his ear holes at night. He kept them safe till morning. When the cock crowed in the middle of the night it never fooled him, nor when he crowed again before first light. He kept the sounds safe in his ear holes till the day stood up and the cock of the morning crowed everything awake. Then the child unheard the sounds and they went back to where they lived. The child was laughing at the owl, but the owl didn’t know it. He thought he had done a good night’s work. He sat in the world tree grooling and smarling all day, thinking he would get the whole world gone, only he never did./p>p> /p>p>The owl keeps trying and he’ll do it one day. All it takes is for no one to be listening everything back. He will go the world away and himself with it and that’ll be the end of it. But it may not be for a while yet. Not as long as there is a child to listen./p> /div> p classpostmetadata> Posted in a hrefindex.html%3Fcat9.html relcategory>Meditation/a>, a hrefindex.html%3Fcat1.html relcategory>Uncategorized/a> | a hrefindex.html%3Fp446.html#respond>No Comments »/a>/p> /div> div classpost-442 post type-post status-publish format-standard hentry category-uncategorized idpost-442> h2>a hrefindex.html%3Fp442.html relbookmark titlePermanent Link to Silence>Silence/a>/h2> small>April 7th, 2013 !-- by William -->/small> div classentry> p>To deliver oneself up, hand oneself over, entrust oneself completely to the silence of a wide landscape of woods and hill, or sea, or desert: to sit still while the sun comes up over the land and fills its silences with light. To pray and work in the morning and to labor in meditation in the evening when night falls upon that land and when the silence fills itself with darkness and with stars. This is a true and special vocation. There are few who are willing to belong completely to such silence, to let it soak into their bones, to breathe nothing but silence, to feed on silence, and to turn the very substance of their life into a living and vigilant silence.br />—Thomas Merton/p> /div> p classpostmetadata> Posted in a hrefindex.html%3Fcat1.html relcategory>Uncategorized/a> | a hrefindex.html%3Fp442.html#respond>No Comments »/a>/p> /div> div classpost-438 post type-post status-publish format-standard hentry category-being-human category-reality idpost-438> h2>a hrefindex.html%3Fp438.html relbookmark titlePermanent Link to Probing the limits>Probing the limits/a>/h2> small>February 28th, 2013 !-- by William -->/small> div classentry> p>February 20th, 2013/p>p>Waiting in the doctor’s surgery yesterday for an hour. I don’t read the magazines which are all of the ‘Hello’ variety. I try to pray. As always the Jesus Prayer. And I think. I tend not to bring a book when I know I will have to endure the tedium of waiting for an appointment, or a bus or train. I try to use the enforced non-activity in a place I would not ordinarily choose to linger as an opportunity to pray and think. Prayer did not come easily. The fact that there was a new born baby in the room probably influenced the direction my thoughts took. Death is never far from my mind these days, specially when some organ or other ceases to function as it should. Whenever I think about death I tend to see it as one’s definitive birth. One has no idea of what is to come. (I find it hard to believe that death is the end, a final dissolution.) No more than a child in the womb could ever imagine what lies beyond birth. Seeing the little baby I was reminded of Lois’ excitement at feeling the movement of her baby in the womb for the first time. And this life, the end of which I am approaching, is second womb. Like the little baby I am approaching the end of my gestation. And like the little baby I too stretch out and probe the limits./p>p> /p>p>Now that I have raised my children and retired from work, now that my age means that I am no longer physically or mentally agile, now my days are filled with little routine tasks and activities. Of no great import. A succession of inconsequentials. Only when I sit still. Only when I still my thoughts. Only when I focus on the limits of awareness in the silence and the darkness, only then do I touch the walls of my womb. And as Michael Polanyi and Simone Weil have pointed out – a wall is a membrane which separates, and which joins. And it is permeable./p> /div> p classpostmetadata> Posted in a hrefindex.html%3Fcat4.html relcategory>Being human/a>, a hrefindex.html%3Fcat11.html relcategory>Reality/a> | a hrefindex.html%3Fp438.html#respond>No Comments »/a>/p> /div> div classnavigation> div classalignleft>a hrefindex.html%3Fpaged2.html >« Older Entries/a>/div> div classalignright>/div> /div> /div> div idsidebar> ul> li idpages-2 classwidget widget_pages>h2 classwidgettitle>Pages/h2> ul> li classpage_item page-item-365>a hrefindex.html%3Fp365.html>About/a>/li> /ul> /li> li idrecent-posts-2 classwidget widget_recent_entries> h2 classwidgettitle>Recent Posts/h2> ul> li> a hrefindex.html%3Fp519.html>Morning darkness/a> /li> li> a hrefindex.html%3Fp514.html>Waiting/a> /li> li> a hrefindex.html%3Fp494.html>Faces/a> /li> li> a hrefindex.html%3Fp477.html>Messages/a> /li> li> a hrefindex.html%3Fp473.html>Silence/a> /li> /ul> /li> li idarchives-2 classwidget widget_archive>h2 classwidgettitle>Archives/h2> ul> li>a hrefindex.html%3Fm201708.html>August 2017/a>/li> li>a hrefindex.html%3Fm201509.html>September 2015/a>/li> li>a hrefindex.html%3Fm201404.html>April 2014/a>/li> li>a hrefindex.html%3Fm201310.html>October 2013/a>/li> li>a hrefindex.html%3Fm201305.html>May 2013/a>/li> li>a hrefindex.html%3Fm201304.html>April 2013/a>/li> li>a hrefindex.html%3Fm201302.html>February 2013/a>/li> li>a hrefindex.html%3Fm201211.html>November 2012/a>/li> li>a hrefindex.html%3Fm201205.html>May 2012/a>/li> li>a hrefindex.html%3Fm201202.html>February 2012/a>/li> li>a hrefindex.html%3Fm201112.html>December 2011/a>/li> li>a hrefindex.html%3Fm201109.html>September 2011/a>/li> li>a hrefindex.html%3Fm201108.html>August 2011/a>/li> li>a hrefindex.html%3Fm201106.html>June 2011/a>/li> li>a hrefindex.html%3Fm201002.html>February 2010/a>/li> li>a hrefindex.html%3Fm200908.html>August 2009/a>/li> li>a hrefindex.html%3Fm200906.html>June 2009/a>/li> li>a hrefindex.html%3Fm200904.html>April 2009/a>/li> li>a hrefindex.html%3Fm200902.html>February 2009/a>/li> li>a hrefindex.html%3Fm200901.html>January 2009/a>/li> li>a hrefindex.html%3Fm200811.html>November 2008/a>/li> li>a hrefindex.html%3Fm200809.html>September 2008/a>/li> li>a hrefindex.html%3Fm200805.html>May 2008/a>/li> li>a hrefindex.html%3Fm200804.html>April 2008/a>/li> li>a hrefindex.html%3Fm200803.html>March 2008/a>/li> li>a hrefindex.html%3Fm200802.html>February 2008/a>/li> li>a hrefindex.html%3Fm200801.html>January 2008/a>/li> li>a hrefindex.html%3Fm200712.html>December 2007/a>/li> li>a hrefindex.html%3Fm200711.html>November 2007/a>/li> li>a hrefindex.html%3Fm200710.html>October 2007/a>/li> li>a hrefindex.html%3Fm200709.html>September 2007/a>/li> li>a hrefindex.html%3Fm200708.html>August 2007/a>/li> li>a hrefindex.html%3Fm200707.html>July 2007/a>/li> li>a hrefindex.html%3Fm200706.html>June 2007/a>/li> /ul> /li>li idcategories-2 classwidget widget_categories>h2 classwidgettitle>Categories/h2> ul> li classcat-item cat-item-3>a hrefindex.html%3Fcat3.html >Becoming/a>/li> li classcat-item cat-item-4>a hrefindex.html%3Fcat4.html >Being human/a>/li> li classcat-item cat-item-5>a hrefindex.html%3Fcat5.html >God/a>/li> li classcat-item cat-item-6>a hrefindex.html%3Fcat6.html >Karma/a>/li> li classcat-item cat-item-7>a hrefindex.html%3Fcat7.html >Love/a>/li> li classcat-item cat-item-8>a hrefindex.html%3Fcat8.html >Meaning/a>/li> li classcat-item cat-item-9>a hrefindex.html%3Fcat9.html >Meditation/a>/li> li classcat-item cat-item-10>a hrefindex.html%3Fcat10.html >Mysticism/a>/li> li classcat-item cat-item-11>a hrefindex.html%3Fcat11.html >Reality/a>/li> li classcat-item cat-item-12>a hrefindex.html%3Fcat12.html >Religion/a>/li> li classcat-item cat-item-13>a hrefindex.html%3Fcat13.html >Self/a>/li> li classcat-item cat-item-1>a hrefindex.html%3Fcat1.html >Uncategorized/a>/li> /ul>/li> /ul> /div>hr />div idfooter>!-- If youd like to support WordPress, having the powered by link somewhere on your blog is the best way; its our only promotion or advertising. --> p> Phronema br/>br/> !--br />a hrefhttp://www.phronema.eu/?feedrss2>Entries (RSS)/a> and a hrefhttp://www.phronema.eu/?feedcomments-rss2>Comments (RSS)/a>.--> /p>/div>/div>!-- Gorgeous design by Michael Heilemann - http://binarybonsai.com/kubrick/ --> script typetext/javascript srcwp-includes/js/wp-embed.min.js%3Fver4.8.11>/script>/body>/html>
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