Monthly Archives: July 2023

Acting, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Shadow Mountain, Writing

The three R’s: Writin’, Recitin’, Rewritin’

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Summer and the Herme Moon

Monday gratefuls: Ana. Marina. Furball Cleaning. Prolia. Shot today. Bones. Conifer Medical Center. Korea. The Korean War and its aftermath. Still vibrating. The Cold War. The DMZ. Hanoks. Seoul subway. Focusing on Seoul this trip. And Seoah’s family. Next time Taipei. After that, Japan. The Asia turn for my little family. Mary, Mark, my son, Seoah. Even Murdoch, the dog with genes from the Akita Prefecture. God. Gods. Goddesses. Dryads. Nymphs. Wood sprites. Faeries. Mushrooms. Psilocybin. Midsummer Night’s Dream.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Trail to Cold Mountain

One brief shining: Here’s how it goes I sit in my Stickley arm chair with the wide wooden arms place coffee and a can of seltzer water on a book or a coaster pick up a page of The Trail to Cold Mountain to read out loud which I do then I put it down and recite the first character’s lines without looking if that goes well I recite the first speech and add the second then so on down the page until I go back and recite from the very first page all the way to the one I’ve just learned.

 

Five pages mostly learned in that manner. By the end of today I hope to have the first six pages. That puts me into the Cold Mountain poems plus some added lines between some of them. I have the rest of today and tomorrow to finish. Might make it, might not. But. I’ll be close. That will give me the next week to imprint it all. After I’ve gone off book as we actors say (LOL), I’ll spend more time on character development and blocking. Though. The blocking is pretty simple. At least as I have it in my mind right now. Might change I suppose. Ann will finish the calligraphy for the poems by the 17th and hopefully the banner, too. I still to have find a cloak and hood, a pair of medieval woodsman’s boots. Get my linen shirt and pants pressed. I don’t iron. All this for one performance.

After the 19th, if that’s the showcase date, I’ll decide whether I want to take this to a one man show. That would require a good bit more work. OK. A lot more. Could be worth it though. My fantasy is taking it on the road up and down the Rocky Mountains to theaters in Mountain towns. If that works well, then the Himalayas are the limit. Ha. Could keep me out of trouble for a coupla years.

The process of creation lifts my spirit, makes my heart sing. Though that’s not to deny the hard slogging it also requires. I’m not like Ode where every day is a good day in the studio. Some days yes. Some days no. Some months, even years between work on a piece.

I am considering starting a new novel. Which seems deleterious to me in some ways. That is, I have Jennie’s Dead already well underway but I’m stuck. Or, better, just don’t want to work in that universe anymore. And haven’t for a couple of years. Not sure why. Just don’t. I’ve also got the Pagan work underway, too. And, a good bit of work on the Great Wheel. Plus a bit of a start on a novel, the Protectors. And, editing and rewriting Superior Wolf. Yes. Plus now. A possible one man show? See what I mean.

Even so. The idea of starting a new novel excites me and that may trump the slog of the other work. Or, what feels like a slog right now. Oh, phooey! I love to write. That’s the main thing. I clearly don’t care about getting published, but I do love to write and I am serious about it in spite of not caring about the next step.

Besides, I do live on a Mountain top.

 

 

 

 

General

Saturday

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Summer and the Herme Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Honor. Kavod. Mussar. Weighty. We are holy souls. Sacred. Revelation. Community. Havurah. Interest groups. Anavah. Humility. Israel. Korea. My son, his wife. Her sisters. Murdoch. Investigations of our orange bitter lozenge of the mind. Smart phones. The Trail to Cold Mountain. Writing. Acting. Acting class. Eudaimonia. Vince. Luke. Leo and Gracie. Ann. Han Shan.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Oppenheimer

One brief shining: Parting the insect curtain with its magnetic strip lets me enter a place where Cat says Hi, Charlie! and other waiters and waitresses smile, the owner too, and I go to the 2 top or a booth depending on the business of the day order a cup of coffee and open my book right now Two Koreas while I wait to order two eggs over easy, crisp bacon, sliced tomatoes, and toast.

 

Started yesterday at Aspen Perks. Where the wait staff knows my name. Not the best food, but the best company. OK food. Quieter than Conifer Cafe, closer than Primo’s. Massages my need for human connection. Have wanted to see Pete and Murphy since our conversation a month or so ago, but they’ve not shown up since or our times have not coincided. Though. It’s a small town. I’ll run into them again.

Still reading the second of my two histories of contemporary Korea, The Two Koreas. Written by a journalist it has reportorial style. Not the depth of Korea’s Place in the Sun, anecdotal with a first draft of history feel. My preference is Korea’s Place in the Sun but reading the two of them cements names, dates, places. Have let the Korean slide while focused on The Trail to Cold Mountain and reading these histories. May return to it in August.

 

The rest of the day yesterday I read and learned lines. Three pages down. Two more to go before I hit Han Shan’s poetry of which I’ve already learned 5 of the ten. May make it before class on Tuesday evening. Figured out a way to separate Herme and Gaius. I turn my right shoulder, then my whole body to the side. Herme. The opposite with a brassy voice. Gaius. I think it’ll work. The seeker though. Haven’t figured her out yet. An Asian woman, mature, accomplished. Knows what she wants. But not pushy. Haven’t gotten to her lines yet in what I’m memorizing. Will focus on her then.

Made a pan seared Halibut fillet. So good. Veggies. For dessert, a creme brulee truffle from Sugar Jones. For my light reading, The Anomaly by Hervé Le Tellier. Sky Castle, the K-drama. Bed. A solid day with before going to sleep thoughts about whether the sacred connects into a whole other world or whether it’s location and instance specific. About how revelation could be auditory. About doing laundry today, Sunday. And what to make for breakfast. As the edible hit and I drifted away into the arms of Morpheus.

 

Cinema and Television, Fourth Phase

More Spontaneous Than I Thought

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Summer and the Herme Moon

Saturday gratefuls: Movies. Books. Writing. Actors. Acting. Acting class. Pushing outside the comfort zone. Mussar. MVP. Judaism. Sabbath. Tom. Bill. Ode. Paul. Honorable men. The Ocean. Ocean Vents. Extremophiles. The Marianna’s Trench. Titan. Tides. King. Neap. High. Low. The Moon. Great Sol. Photosynthesis. Reconstruction. Reimagining the Sacred. Reimagining Revelation. Reconstructing religion. The Great Wheel. Travel. Korea. Israel. Life in the fourth phase.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: This Mountain Life

One brief shining: That mug I made for Father’s Day when Kate took me to the Northwestern Clay Center so heavy and inelegant with spots of yellow glaze here and there a wonderful fits my hand perfectly handle fired with her thoughtfulness knowing no one was going to show up for Father’s Day that year oh I miss her and love that misshapen spectacular instance of her kindness.

 

Be spontaneous. My son a few months ago the very day an information meeting happened for CBE’s Israel Trip. So I was. Now I’m going. In October the day after his birthday. I’ll see him and Seoah, Murdoch first though. On August 23rd. Be spontaneous. Trying. Although if I have to try, does that still count?

Wondered this yesterday when I sat here looking at the movies at the AMC Bowles yesterday. Wanted to see Mission Impossible because my son loved it and said it had some provocative content re: AI. Heard him saying. Be spontaneous. Bought the ticket. Another Tom Cruise I can do this to show what a good stunt man I am movie yet also a thriller, edge of the seat come up for air at the end experience.

Used the closed caption contraption for the first time. It helps. A lot. Clunky though. Fits in the cupholder, has a flexible arm that can be moved to a position in front of and below line of sight to the screen. Not ideal since to really see either the captions or the screen you have to change focus. Better, a lot better, than Wakanda Forever though where the dialects and accents made me miss half of the dialogue.

There is, I’ve learned, a better option for me. Open captions like I currently use while watching TV. The problem is they’re usually available only once a day since they project the captions on the screen. Don’t want to “spoil” the experience for others, I imagine. Kate didn’t like subtitles, for example. Me, I can’t watch a movie without them anymore. Will only see Oppenheimer with open captions. This week.

This still leaves out arthouse cinema, I suppose. Though I admit I haven’t checked. Need to do that. Exploring ways to have fun. An art day now and then. A museum day. I know. Is that nerdy fun? I suppose. Still, it counts for me.

 

A short disquisition on spontaneous. Here are three definitions from Webster’s.

1 : proceeding from natural feeling or native tendency without external constraint
2
: arising from a momentary impulse
3
: controlled and directed internally : self-acting

 

I’m almost sure my son meant definition number 2. And I welcomed the prod. Break out of the last five year ties that bound me close to home. Do something just because. Without consideration, or at least much consideration.

 
Yet. Those other definitions. I can’t claim to always act without external constraint. Hardly. I put on clothes, take showers, pay my bills, speak English, don’t hit people. Yes, that’s true. But in my day to day life I proceed almost always from natural feeling or native tendency, a life directed and controlled internally. That’s the joy of the fourth phase. I’m more spontaneous than I thought.

Acting, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Shadow Mountain, Writing

Life and imaginary life

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Summer and the Herme Moon

Friday gratefuls: Joan. Alan. Bread Lounge pastries. The Cuban. Calendars. Mayan. Gregorian. Julian. Lunar. Jewish. Celtic. The Great Wheel. Seasons. Living into revelation. Living with revelation. Seeing the sacred. Seeing yourself as you are. The examined life. The authentic life. The life that burns away everything but love.  Psilocybin. Guides. The layers of our selves. Inner life. Acting. The Trail to Cold Mountain. Brother Mark and sister Mary. My son, Seoah, Murdoch. Korea.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: honest conversation

One brief shining: After I exercise, I go out on the loft’s deck, sit in the wicker chair carried here from Andover when we had that glass table top, Great Sol still behind the garage because it’s close to noon, and look at my house, the Lodgepoles in the yard, up to Black Mountain, the ski runs there carved by privilege “earned” in the petroleum addiction trade, and pinch myself yes you do live here.

 

Feeling even better about long periods of time alone. Yet also with times, often intense times in conversation. Going into the world of shared life with Rebecca, Tom, Diane, Alan, Luke, Rabbi Jamie, the Ancient Brothers, Joan, Tal. With the mussar group. With MVP. With Rich and Ron. This rhythm of welcome isolation and precious time with others feels like the right mix for me these days. I do wonder as I write this what I do for fun. Not much as I review my life over the last few years. The occasional hike. Movie. A nice meal out. Keeping up with F1. Art used to have  a big role for me. Not so much now. Perhaps that’s something I can change. Maybe learning Magic: the Gathering will open up an avenue for me. What do you do for fun?

 

The Trail to Cold Mountain. Learning it a page at a time. A focus for the next three days. I talked to Ann yesterday. She’d doing the calligraphy for Cold Mountain’s poems. I also asked her to make me a white banner with Cold Mountain’s name in Chinese. Two characters. If she can, I’ll hang it in the background as part of the scene setting. The rest of the scene is this:

Deep in a land of Mountains and Forests. In front of a cliff, a cave. A grove of pine trees opens out from the cave. A campfire burns in the grove, lighting the cave with flickers of light and shadow. Cut logs serve as chairs around the fire. Evening has fallen and a cool breeze carries the scent of pines and a not too distant river. Far off is the place Herme chooses to live. Green peaks in the background.

Since I completed my first draft, it’s taken up less mental space. Though. If all goes well and other folks think it’s worth expanding, too, it may take up a good deal of my time after I get done traveling. Adding more scenes, extending the run time from 20 minutes or so to over an hour.

May have gone a little overboard with all this. I bought a woodsman’s shirt, pants. A gourd like Chinese scholars used to hold wine. I’m spending a tidy sum having Ann do the calligraphy for the poems and perhaps the banner. Not to mention the cost of the class. Going to check with the Magic Castle, a costume place, and other prop shops to see if I can rent a woolen hooded green cloak and woodsman’s boots. Wish I’d thought of costume rental before I bought the outfit, but…

 

 

 

General

The Sacred

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Summer and the Herme Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Two Koreas. Korea. Seoah. Flying to Incheon. All appliances good for 220. Adapters. Next chapters. Fourth Phase. Facing aging straight up. Happy, but real. Joyous and knowing that death comes next. Burn away everything but love. Start now. Look for the sacred wherever you can find it. Speak your revelation with confidence. Do not go silent in the face of mystery.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Psilocybin

One brief shining: Once upon a time there was an old man who lived on top of a Mountain in a rust colored cedar sided house with blue solar panels and tall Lodgepole Pines and gray white Aspens who wrote early in the morning, then read all sorts of books, had meals with his friends and family, talked to others over the internet, watched TV, slept in the cool Mountain nights, and was happy.

 

Still thinking about revelation. Picked up an old Mircea Eliade book yesterday, The Sacred and the Profane. As important to my thinking as Rudolf Otto’s The Idea of the Holy. Different takes on the religious experience but the main phenomenological writers in a long stream of theologians and historians of religion. Realized in reading the first chapter again that I’m approaching the religious experience in the same way as they do. What’s going on here? What’s it like? How have humans made meaning out of these encounters. Set aside dogma, charisma, bureaucracy, observance, ritual or at least bracket them. What’s common about the devotee’s of the world’s religions if anything? Not syncretism, nothing to do with what the religions say, but all about what they do.

I’m not interested in as broad a sweep as that though, I have no academic journal mouths to feed. No. I’m wanting to make as much sense of my own experiences as I can. Eliade reminded of a missing element in my look at revelation. The sacred. Or whatever it is. The what that is revealed. Is it in fact one thing? The Sacred? Or is it multiple things? Is it even a thing? If so, of what quality? And the epistemological question, how do we know what we know about it? Is it out there? Or, in here?

Let’s go back to that Rainy Night Watcher. Did his appearance reveal something out there? Or, something in me? Or, both? Does see what you’re looking at always mean take in information about what you see in as unfiltered a way as possible. Or, does it mean, how do you interpret what your eyes take in? In the instance of the Rainy Night Watcher there were two actors. The Elk and me. Did he see me as a glimpse into the other world? That of the creatures in metal who long ago invaded his territory? Or, did he look at me with wonder and awe as I looked at him? In wonder and awe.

For the moment I’m going to come down on the side of the sacred as a thing, a hidden dimension of our World, of our cosmos, too. Consider the quantum realm. Consider the opposite, the macro realm, the Universe as a whole. Consider the spectrum of data our senses cannot experience. Consider the mystery our inner lives are to others whom we know, even those whom we know intimately. Does the sacred reside in any or all of these? Still on the journey. This most ancientrail.

 

 

Acting, Aging, Fourth Phase, Judaism, Writing

Wrasslin’

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Summer and the Herme Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: A complete first draft of the Trail To Cold Mountain by Herme. A good sleep. The internet. Computers. Smart phones. Tablets. Hearing aids. Kindles. AI. Vegetables. Fruits. Eggs. Beans. Truffles. Pork schnitzel. Potatoes. All food. Great Sol. Giver of energy, life, light. The lesser light, the Moon. Giver of tides. Illumination at night. Reflected glory. The sacred. The holy. The divine. Revelation. Seeing. Hearing. Tasting. Touching. Smelling. Our bodies. Our souls. Our selves. The distinctiveness of each thing on Earth.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Writing

One brief shining: Wrestled to the bear to the ground yesterday produced a completed first draft of the Trail to Cold Mountain, a playlet, twenty minutes of dialogue and poetry, half written by me and half written by Han Shan Cold Mountain, the ninth century Tang dynasty recluse poet who lived for thirty years on Cold Mountain.

 

So much satisfaction in having a first draft of my first script. Far from finished. I’ve already made edits in the first paragraph, but I have a beginning, a middle, and a surprising end. By the 19th of August, our showcase, I’ll have a finished draft. Whether I’ll have it memorized? Doubtful. But I’m gonna give it my best.

I backed into this project with the poetry of Cold Mountain. Got most of the ten poems memorized. Tal says I sink deep into the role when I’m reading the poems. I may have mentioned that my fellow acting class members have applauded me several times. Not so much with what I’ve written.

Four of the characters have speaking parts. Herme, The Seeker, Gaius Ovidius, and Han Shan. The fifth, a helper, does not. I feel confident about Herme and Han Shan. But the Seeker (an Asian woman) and Gaius, a Roman Centurion, need a lot of work. Defining them clearly and separately while finishing revisions of the script. That’s my task over the next three weeks.

 

More and more leaning away from October 8th. Too much to do before I leave for Korea (see above and below) and too little time after I get back on September 27th. Thinking about 2024. Either on my birthday, my 77th, or in the late Spring. Still focused on celebrating aging. On aging men. In this divided country of ours.

 

On August 17th I have my first of ten sessions with Rabbi Jamie’s Introduction to Judaism. Perspectives on Jewish Identity. Here are a few of the 9 questions. 1. What is Judaism? Is it a religion? A culture? A set of observances?  2. What does it mean to be Jewish? 9. Consider these four dimensions of Jewish identity:

Cultural/Ethnic – cuisine, dress, calendar, etc.

National – ties to land and country, political affiliations, etc

Communal – Circle of extended family and friends, synagogue membership, etc.

Spiritual/Religious – personal beliefs, rituals, values, etc.

Profile your own identity using these four categories. Now use them to profile a Jewish Israeli.

I look forward to digging into these and the other questions, then discussing them with Jamie.

 

 

 

Acting, Asia, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Travel, US History, World History

No people

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Summer and the Herme Moon

Monday gratefuls: Cold Mountain. The path to Cold Mountain. Tom’s journey. The flaming sword that guards the entrance to Eden. Myth. The myths we live by. Odysseus. Achilles. Priam. Troy. Helen. Homer. Zeus. Hermes. Hera. Apollo. Poseidon. Hercules. God. Jesus. Mohammed. Mark. John. Matthew. Luke. Moses. Joshua. King David. King Solomon. Rebecca. Jacob. At the Jabbok Ford. Baucis and Philemon. Aphrodite. Lycaon. Cadmus and the dragon teeth warriors. Paul Bunyan. Babe the Blue Ox. Johnny Inkslinger.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Myth

One brief shining: Took a can of cold seltzer Water out of the fridge it cooled my hand while I went upstairs to my home office where my computer waits always on for me to sit in that Herman Miller chair Kate bought me for a long ago birthday clicking on the keyboard the screen comes to life and I’m ready to get started on another post for Ancientrails.

 

Three days in a row with no in person human contact. I needed it after last week. Left me tired, wrung out. Rode hard and put away wet. I did talk with my son and Seoah on Saturday night [AM Korea time] and BJ and Sarah on Sunday late afternoon. Other than that working out, reading about Korea, working on what is now titled The Trail to Cold Mountain, that sorta thing. Thinking about revelation, about faith as a secondary characteristic of revelation. About what is sacred. Holy. Divine. A full three days but quiet, peaceful. Restorative.

Could go another two based on no class tonight and nothing on the calendar on Wednesday. But. Nope. Going out for breakfast. See some real people. Then back home for a day with The Trail to Cold Mountain. Herme is still the main character and it’s still his story, but I’m modifying it a lot thanks to Tal and Joan’s ideas.

 

My son wants me to learn how to play Magic: The Gathering before I get to Korea. I’m doing that. It’s a very popular strategy game played around the world in person and online. He’s excited about a new batch of Magic cards that have just come out based on the Lord of the Rings. There’s an online tutorial. My next lesson is on Creature Combat. I remember when it was Zelda and Mario Brothers on the Nintendo. Long time ago.

 

Reading about the Far Right has taken a back seat lately to Korea. Now some ways into Two Koreas. It’s a very different read from Korea’s Place in the Sun. Written by two journalists it has a more first person you were there feel to it. Will give me a different perspective on the war and postwar years. Enjoying it so far.

 

Feeling the outwash from the jet engines on my plane to Incheon. Figuring out adapters and transformers. Smart phone and sim cards. How I can keep myself connected and charged while in Osan. Also learning a bit about the Seoul subway system. Probably will revisit my Korean lessons starting soon. Have to get spare keys made. Reserve an Uber for the airport. Check my drugs to make sure I have enough for a month away. Stop mail. Buy gifts and send them soon to the APO address for my son. No sense carrying them. Figuring out the lightest possible packing plan. All that stuff.

 

Considering holding off on the crossing the threshold ritual until next year. Might be more than I can handle with Korea, conversion, Israel.

 

 

Acting, Art and Culture, Beyond the Boundaries, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Reimaging revelation, Science, Wild Neighbors, Writing

Joy

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Summer and the Herme Moon

Monday gratefuls: Herme. The Seeker. Gaius Ovidius. Han Shan. Writing a very short play. Acting. Distractions. Procrastination. Writing again. Working on revelation. Sacred. Divine. Holy. Spiritual. Religious. Worship. Inspiration. What do these words mean? Are they still important? Judaism. Sarah. BJ. Family. Ruth and Gabe. Marina Harris. My son and Seoah. Murdoch. Korea. Adapters. Travel. Love. Burning it all away but love. Life’s purpose.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: the religious life

One brief shining: Here it is the Lodgepole out my window I look at it and see all its Branches arranged towards the East where Great Sol becomes seen each morning no need for western facing Branches due to the shade of others those Branches toward Great Sol right now hold Needles and Cone, survival and reproduction of the species, unseen but known to me is that most magical and necessary of all transformations/transubstantiations photosynthesis gathering in the nuclear fusion power of Great Sol, combining it with carbon dioxide and water, then stepping it down into sugars and oxygen and fixed carbon. A miracle of the ordinary. The ordinary as miracle.

 

Oh. Speeding into my mind since last Tuesday night Herme and the nature of revelation. Prompting a creative torrent can’t keep up with it. Have to slow down. Stop. Read. Watch television. Burning through my photosynthetically captured energy reserves. Glad my thyroid stimulating hormone has given me the ability to use the energy as long as I can. More than glad. Joyful.

 

This is so much fun. Considering how to lace lines from Han Shan into my own written dialogue, stage directions, settings. Imagining how to advance the plot, how to have a smash bang ending. Yippee! Having to figure out how to represent each character distinctively. When I have trouble having to do that for one character. Gotta thank Alan for suggesting acting classes. I’ve learned so much about myself. About talents and skills long buried. Not gone. Which makes me happy.

Acting combines the intellect and the emotions, the lev heart/mind, into a sharpened tool with the whole body. The voice. Movement. Posture. Cadence. Emphasis. Volume. All important. Plus memory. Putting it all into the mind and retrieving it as necessary, remembering per Meisner how to live truthfully in an imaginary situation.

 

Also going to sleep thinking about revelation. What does it reveal? How? When? How do we know it when it’s happening? Waking up with revelation still on my mind. Seeing revelation through my window.

The book of Nature, of super nature, always open to one page or another. Great Sol in the Sky. The Lodgepole out my window. The first six inches of Top Soil. Feeling the Oxygen breathed out by the Lodgepoles going into my lungs. Another miracle. The transfer of Oxygen into my blood stream so the energy gained from Plants and Animals can transubstantiate into my organs, flesh, bones, lev. How marvelous! How wonderful.

These are the ordinary encounters, yes, but still inspirational. Perhaps they don’t rise to the level of revelation. The line between revelation and an ordinary miracle is still not clear to me. Perhaps an ordinary miracle involves the intellect more. I can look up photosynthesis, read about it, yet its role in our life of very life is so intimate, so critical, and so ignored that seeing where it is happening, right now, opens my heart in wonder.

Yet it does not have the jolt, the jitterbugging of the Rainy Night Watcher. That was a hairs on the skin rising up goosebumps moment. I take from those indicators that my body/lev responded holistically. No mental processing. No slotting of the experience or wondering about Elks. Rather an oh this is happening to me right now! Wow. What? Gosh. A frisson of fear. I can still see him dimly lit at the side of the road, watching, his Antlers spread wider than the space of the two Lodgepoles just behind them.

Loving this, too. Reimagining revelation. Yes. That’s the key.

 

 

Mountains, Wild Neighbors

Super Nature

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Summer and the Herme Moon

Sunday gratefuls: The sacred. The holy and the divine. Supernatural? Yes, if you mean super natural. Finishing Korea’s Place in the Sun. Starting Two Koreas. Wanting to pare down my home work to focus more on my own work. Reading more. Writing more. Seeing friends more. My friend Tom going on a trip tomorrow. Bon Voyage, Buddy. Diane. Seoah. Murdoch. My son. Rising, rising insurance rates. Shadow Mountain. Black Mountain. My wild neighbors

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Convergence

One brief shining: I set down Korea’s Place in the Sun after finishing began to wonder how many books I’d read in my life must be in the thousands by now and where the knowledge I gained is in my inner world and how it affects my day to day life you know all those stories all those facts all that poetry crammed into the tiny space neurons and synapses and blood vessels needed to keep it available and pertinent.

 

Wanted to pick up today on the definition I posted about revelation. Here it is again:

“In religion and theology, revelation is the revealing or disclosing of some form of truth or knowledge through communication with a deity or other supernatural entity or entities.”wiki

Even when I posted it I wanted to edit out the word supernatural. In some ways it’s a nonsense word. Doesn’t pass the how would we know it when we saw it test. It might though if you unpack the portmanteau into super natural. After the post about the Bull Elk and considering other similar experiences I’ve had over my life I began to wonder about the true nature of revelation. What, in other words, does it reveal? And why is it different from ordinary experience? Why do some experiences fit Rudolf Otto’s definition and why don’t others? Posting Otto’s definition of the holy again below.*

I once again insist on my own turn with his definition, not the transcendent, but the incandescent. What lights up your inner world? Not supernatural, but super natural. That is, experiences that reveal the mysterium tremendum et fascinans of the natural world. I’ll return here for a moment to that Bull Elk on the Rainy night. He stood quietly, watching, lit only by the dim light cast sideways by my headlights.

It was a natural moment. Yes. Earlier that evening I’d seen a Bull Elk pass by the amphitheater at CBE. Also a natural moment. And an inspiring one as all encounters with our wild neighbors tend to be. But. It was not super natural. The difference. The second Bull, lets call him Rainy Night Watcher, made my heart jitterbug. He exposed a sight which I rarely have. A Bull Elk oblivious of the Rain positioned in his Forest habitat as a Watcher from the other side of nature, super nature, revealing in his brief appearance the holiness inherent in wildness.

 

 

*“the transcendent [the holy]) appears as a mysterium tremendum et fascinans—that is, a mystery before which humanity both trembles and is fascinated, is both repelled and attracted. Thus, [God] sic can appear both as wrathful or awe-inspiring, on the one hand, and as gracious and lovable, on the other.” Rudolf Otto, the Idea of the Holy.

Commentary on Religion, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Judaism, Politics

Religious Life

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Summer and the Herme Moon

Saturday gratefuls: Erica, Yolanda, Nancy, Sophia. Helen. Stacy. Jamie. Alan. Ann. Gracie. The Bread Lounge. Evergreen Market. Sugar Jones. CBE. Evergreen. The Muller Retaining Wall company. Gettin’ the job done at Evergreen Lake. The detour. All detours. Hunting for the sacred. Finding the holy. Walking with the divine. Racial justice. Economic justice. The Ancient Brothers. My convergence. That Bull Elk. Still imprinted and present. Korea. Israel, a land of revelation.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Revelation

One brief shining: CBE filled up with members of For His Glory church last night a project of Rabbi Jamie’s to advance racial justice by partnering with a black church, sharing services, gospel music, and friendship first through that most religious of human activities, a potluck, then a kabbalah shabbat service with traditional music.

 

I went for the potluck. Met Erica, Yolanda, Nancy, and Sophia. We had a long conversation. In a difficult setting for me. The Sun shone in my face and the babble of others filled my one hearing aid. Talked with them about my conversion. About their lives. Erica manages corporate relocations internationally. About Kate. They wanted to know if I could remarry. Yes, I said, but it would have to be a very special woman and I haven’t met her. At least not yet. Tithing and the synagogue’s dues structure. Tzedakah. Yolanda wanted to know what questions the rabbinic court (beit din) might ask. Hmm. I said. That’s a good question. I’ll have to ask Rabbi Jamie.

My sense of politics wants to move faster, engage quicker. Do something. Always. But this approach may work over a longer time. Building friendships. Shared experiences. Then let the political grow organically. Grow out of a common life nurtured over potlucks and joint services.

 

News of my conversion has begun to leak out. Not that it was in hiding. More and more people know. And the warmth I’m experiencing makes me feel good. Mindy came up last night and said I hear you’re going to have a very special moment in Israel. Yes, I am. She offered to help me with my Hebrew or anything else. Her husband David said later as I was leaving, one thing I love about Judaism. We’re not evangelical, but if you decide you want to join we’ll find a way to include you. Over lunch on Thursday Rebecca, on hearing my news, said, Welcome. Alan wanted to know about my bar mitzvah.

 

Revelation has begun to loom much larger in my thinking since the Bull Elk and the conversations stimulated by God is Here. Here’s a wiki definition: “In religion and theology, revelation is the revealing or disclosing of some form of truth or knowledge through communication with a deity or other supernatural entity or entities.” As I’ve begun to think about it more, I realized that revelation is at the base of most if not all religious truth claims. In other words revelation can be seen as the core religious experience, the one from which all others grow. Think of Joseph Smith and his golden tablets. Moses on Mt. Sinai. Mohammed and his angel. Jesus in the desert.

The problem comes when we ossify and/or reify the revelations of others. When we stop hunting for or opening ourselves to revelation. More to come on this. Much more.