Science, Sacred, Spiritual
Well, this article says exactly what I've known since being taught by nuns in Catholic school. Science and faith do not contradict each other. If anything, I think they enhance each other.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Today's Special Guest - Andrew Bellile
Musings From the Fire
I spent the evening thinking of you
You call me beloved
And my thoughts turn to You
And return
And turn again
Adulterous soul
Gaze into the eyes of your beloved
Do not shrink away from His love
Your bride price is extravagant
Though He pays it with abandon
What cost justice
What price freedom
What is due for your healing
To cleans away your filth
The wages of the tailor
For your raiment
Your bridal gown
His crown
Loss of position, status
Every moment of communion
Betrayal of a friend
Humiliation
Agony and humiliation
Every drop of His precious blood
Death
Your Husband paid all this and more
To save you for Himself
To purchase an unwilling bride
A shame-filled harlot
Who loves her filth
Like Him there is no shadow
Of turning in you
Repent
Repent and seek His strong arms
His nail scared hands
Protector, lover, friend
Husband
King
(c) 2011 Andrew Bellile
I spent the evening thinking of you
You call me beloved
And my thoughts turn to You
And return
And turn again
Adulterous soul
Gaze into the eyes of your beloved
Do not shrink away from His love
Your bride price is extravagant
Though He pays it with abandon
What cost justice
What price freedom
What is due for your healing
To cleans away your filth
The wages of the tailor
For your raiment
Your bridal gown
His crown
Loss of position, status
Every moment of communion
Betrayal of a friend
Humiliation
Agony and humiliation
Every drop of His precious blood
Death
Your Husband paid all this and more
To save you for Himself
To purchase an unwilling bride
A shame-filled harlot
Who loves her filth
Like Him there is no shadow
Of turning in you
Repent
Repent and seek His strong arms
His nail scared hands
Protector, lover, friend
Husband
King
(c) 2011 Andrew Bellile
Friday, June 17, 2011
"...The Rest Is Silence."
Thank you, Mr. Shakespeare. There seems to be no occasion for which you do not have the words.
Everyone I know of wants answers of one kind or another. What does life mean? Does he love me? What is your quest? What is your favorite color? (Thank you, too, Monty Python.) We go everywhere for these answers - outer space, the bottom of the ocean, deep inside our own genetic material, our friends, books, the Internet, family... everywhere.
Sometimes we turn to our gods.
There has always been (and, I suspect, will always be) endless discussion about who and what The Divine is, and where we can find it. Conventional wisdom divides the issue rather neatly. The common view is that the monotheistic religions, along with certain Eastern paths such as Buddhism, are transcendent religions. God/the Tao is out there, at a distance - perhaps concerned with our personal actions (perhaps not), and sending wisdom and salvation and enlightenment down from above, often through a chosen vehicle for received knowedge.
The poyltheistic/animistic religions are seen as immanent religions. The Divine is in us and all around us - every single thing partakes in the essence of the Gods, and we can experience it in our daily lives. I am Goddess. You are God. The trees outside are Divine. So is the highway that runs by my window. Enlightenment is there to be found by any who seek, and no one can see a a better path to reunion with Divinity better than the person walking the path.
I think that this division is simplistic. After all, the Big Three Monotheistic Religions all have mystic traditions, the very essence of which is that one person experiences their connection to the Divine directly and personally. The Christians have St. Teresa and other mystics, the Jews have the Kabbalah, and the Moslems have the Sufi. Many neo-Pagans, Wiccans, Witches, Druids, and other polytheists feel that there is something more than just everything together. Many traditions invoke specific Goddesses and Gods, asking to receive wisdom through vision and revelation. Most spiritual people experience a little bit of both relationships.
What is prayer, or spellwork, or meditation, or divination, or contemplation other than a way of personally meeting the God or Goddess, as we see it? Is that not how we as frail, isolated mortals reach for Divinity? Aren't we waiting for an answer, or a hint that yes, we are heard and loved? So very often we feel that answer. We hear that voice. We are given a sign. But not always.
Sometimes there is silence.
It's easy to feel abandoned in the silence, especially when we are used to feeling and seeing and hearing the creative force of the universe. We tend to wonder why we aren't being answered, why our prayers or spells aren't working.
We forget that silence is part of the Divine, too.
Our part of the Divine.
When we experience Silence, our conception of God or Goddess fades away, and we are left with what we know. With ourselves. With the truest, deepest connection possible. We are left with what the transcendence of Divinity has given us - with what the immanence of Divinity receives from us.
What do you know when you are Silent?
Everyone I know of wants answers of one kind or another. What does life mean? Does he love me? What is your quest? What is your favorite color? (Thank you, too, Monty Python.) We go everywhere for these answers - outer space, the bottom of the ocean, deep inside our own genetic material, our friends, books, the Internet, family... everywhere.
Sometimes we turn to our gods.
There has always been (and, I suspect, will always be) endless discussion about who and what The Divine is, and where we can find it. Conventional wisdom divides the issue rather neatly. The common view is that the monotheistic religions, along with certain Eastern paths such as Buddhism, are transcendent religions. God/the Tao is out there, at a distance - perhaps concerned with our personal actions (perhaps not), and sending wisdom and salvation and enlightenment down from above, often through a chosen vehicle for received knowedge.
The poyltheistic/animistic religions are seen as immanent religions. The Divine is in us and all around us - every single thing partakes in the essence of the Gods, and we can experience it in our daily lives. I am Goddess. You are God. The trees outside are Divine. So is the highway that runs by my window. Enlightenment is there to be found by any who seek, and no one can see a a better path to reunion with Divinity better than the person walking the path.
I think that this division is simplistic. After all, the Big Three Monotheistic Religions all have mystic traditions, the very essence of which is that one person experiences their connection to the Divine directly and personally. The Christians have St. Teresa and other mystics, the Jews have the Kabbalah, and the Moslems have the Sufi. Many neo-Pagans, Wiccans, Witches, Druids, and other polytheists feel that there is something more than just everything together. Many traditions invoke specific Goddesses and Gods, asking to receive wisdom through vision and revelation. Most spiritual people experience a little bit of both relationships.
What is prayer, or spellwork, or meditation, or divination, or contemplation other than a way of personally meeting the God or Goddess, as we see it? Is that not how we as frail, isolated mortals reach for Divinity? Aren't we waiting for an answer, or a hint that yes, we are heard and loved? So very often we feel that answer. We hear that voice. We are given a sign. But not always.
Sometimes there is silence.
It's easy to feel abandoned in the silence, especially when we are used to feeling and seeing and hearing the creative force of the universe. We tend to wonder why we aren't being answered, why our prayers or spells aren't working.
We forget that silence is part of the Divine, too.
Our part of the Divine.
When we experience Silence, our conception of God or Goddess fades away, and we are left with what we know. With ourselves. With the truest, deepest connection possible. We are left with what the transcendence of Divinity has given us - with what the immanence of Divinity receives from us.
What do you know when you are Silent?
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Travelling in the Moment
For those who don't know, I belong to a group that researches and recreates the Middle Ages and Renaissance. (That's not very many of you, but there are a few.) While it doesn't actually have anything to do directly with my Witchy little path, it has given me much meditation fodder. I recently came across some thoughts that occurred to me last December, traveling to Milwaukee for one our events with a friend, which seem to perfectly express something that has been on my mind lately.
We were talking about why we like to travel slowly, on back roads. (Seriously. If we have time to ignore an interstate, we will stretch that three hour drive into seven, with many stops.) It seems to me that too many people ignore the journey. After all, the tractor crossing signs are not something you see on an interstate. We traveled through a cut that had recently been widened - the original toolmarks were still visible in many places, but the rock faces were a glorious, deep burnt orange - raw and new. Nothing like the smooth gray and green we usually see. In fact, the whole drive was beautiful - and an integral part of the weekend. The trip was just as much a part of the event as the actual event.
Oh, sometimes time is a constraint. When work or other obligations aren't flexible, the quickest direct route is often necessary. Sometimes you're racing a tornado home (ooh - that could be a fun video game idea!). Sometimes there's an illness or injury or other pressing reason why you just need to get to where you're going. But not always.
Sometimes crappy and annoying things happen, and they ruin an entire trip because they slow us down, or make us work a little more. But not always. And what if those annoyances and delays and irritations have something to offer us?
I really feel that we, as a society, tend to discount or outright dislike travel. Oh, it's important, and we have to do it, but it doesn't really count. How much of our lives do we brush aside because we were "just" getting ready for work, or going out, or the next big thing? How much time do we trivialize because we were "only" en route? And then, once we're at a destination, or into the big thing, how much of it do we really experience? So often the end result is all we value.
Why does the travelling, the process of getting there, get such a bad rap? Couldn't (indeed, shouldn't) the moment be sufficient unto itself? How can I live my life in a way that gives value to each experience for its own sake? Each moment is a gift of the Divine, given to me once. Surely it is the height (depth?) of ingratitude to rush through something because it's nothing but a stepping stone to something else. The essence of mindfulness, in my understanding, is to treat each moment as a numinous, sacred ritual - a prayer in its entirety.
What if one enters what one is doing for its own sake?
What if the journey is as important (or sometimes more important) than the destination?
What if the point of the drive is the drive?
What kind of difference could that make to us?
We were talking about why we like to travel slowly, on back roads. (Seriously. If we have time to ignore an interstate, we will stretch that three hour drive into seven, with many stops.) It seems to me that too many people ignore the journey. After all, the tractor crossing signs are not something you see on an interstate. We traveled through a cut that had recently been widened - the original toolmarks were still visible in many places, but the rock faces were a glorious, deep burnt orange - raw and new. Nothing like the smooth gray and green we usually see. In fact, the whole drive was beautiful - and an integral part of the weekend. The trip was just as much a part of the event as the actual event.
Oh, sometimes time is a constraint. When work or other obligations aren't flexible, the quickest direct route is often necessary. Sometimes you're racing a tornado home (ooh - that could be a fun video game idea!). Sometimes there's an illness or injury or other pressing reason why you just need to get to where you're going. But not always.
Sometimes crappy and annoying things happen, and they ruin an entire trip because they slow us down, or make us work a little more. But not always. And what if those annoyances and delays and irritations have something to offer us?
I really feel that we, as a society, tend to discount or outright dislike travel. Oh, it's important, and we have to do it, but it doesn't really count. How much of our lives do we brush aside because we were "just" getting ready for work, or going out, or the next big thing? How much time do we trivialize because we were "only" en route? And then, once we're at a destination, or into the big thing, how much of it do we really experience? So often the end result is all we value.
Why does the travelling, the process of getting there, get such a bad rap? Couldn't (indeed, shouldn't) the moment be sufficient unto itself? How can I live my life in a way that gives value to each experience for its own sake? Each moment is a gift of the Divine, given to me once. Surely it is the height (depth?) of ingratitude to rush through something because it's nothing but a stepping stone to something else. The essence of mindfulness, in my understanding, is to treat each moment as a numinous, sacred ritual - a prayer in its entirety.
What if one enters what one is doing for its own sake?
What if the journey is as important (or sometimes more important) than the destination?
What if the point of the drive is the drive?
What kind of difference could that make to us?
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