Discipline

"Nothing that anyone says will be that important. The great thing is prayer; prayer itself. If you want a life of prayer, the way to get to it is by praying." Thomas Merton

The way it seems to go is this: We want to do something. Whatever it is. I'll use an example. I have learned that it would seem that the key to a more holy, more spiritual, more contemplative life is discipline. The Druids have a saying, "To discipline the body is to feed the spirit." This is actually common to most religious traditions, particularly those that have a contemplative bent to them. So, there. Discipline is key. Okay. So what I do next? I think about discipline and very quickly get nowhere. In the end I have more questions than answers. I go online and look up different monasteries and see what their daily schedule consists of, because that is a disciplined life made real. But then I say, "I'm not a monk." Then I may read several articles on spiritual discipline in the life of the laity. I will read books on the contemplative life. I will talk to my friends about the desire to become more disciplined. And, later, I will say, "I don't even really know what to do" and drop it for six months. The one thing that I never did was begin to discipline myself. The thing I never did was actually start a daily discipline. Even if it didn't work and I had to change it later, it's better than nothing. 

What Merton is saying in the quote above is very often we spend too much time and energy studying prayer, reading books on "how to pray" instead of just praying. We read more books about the bible than we read the bible. It's almost as if we are fearful of actually engaging. If I try to become more disciplined and fail, then I have failed (or so I would think) and my method is open for criticism. If I never move beyond study, well, I can't be criticized because I'm still working. I haven't actually started. In reality, I should do it. I should do it, and if it isn't working adjust, then it isn't failure, but a lesson. The true failure is in never beginning.

One more example, then I'm done: Recently I've been trying to learn Chinese-style brush painting, or in Japanese: Sumi-e. So what did I do? Asked my wife for a brush set for my birthday, to which she replied. "No. This will not be the next pull-up bar or half-built wooden surfboard in the garage." But, she said she'd get them if I finished all the stuff for the Art Show, which I did. Anyway, the point is when I decided I wanted to do the brush painting, the first thing I did was look for a set of brushes, instead of experimenting with what I have. Because I don't have brushes, I don't have to try to paint, it just wouldn't make sense. Next I looked up all sorts of articles on the philosophy behind brush painting. Again, I don't do it because I 'm not sure I fully grasp it. I'm not sure I understand it. Then (still having never picked up a brush) I started watching videos of brush painting to study technique. What I should have doing the whole time was painting. I should have been actually painting and learning at the same time. No matter how many books I read or videos I watch, until I actually pick up a brush, I haven't done anything and I don't know anything.

And the first stroke of the brush, no matter what the line looks like, is worth more than everything I've done to now. The first words of an honest prayer are worth more than all the books and seminars will ever be. Until I make the first stroke, or speak the first word, I haven't actually engaged. Once I'm engaged I become invested and it becomes real. Now I can really move forward and really learn.  

Face of Christ

The poster above is the show I'm getting stuff ready for. I'm also not done yet, but it's not until Saturday, so no worries. If you are able to make it, you won't be dissappointed (I hope). Gary will have some of his work there. You've seen it here, it's also below.

Another is my friend Jeff Montgomery at http://www.knifeartist.com/, a sample is below.

No, I'm not putting any of mine up. If you want to see it, come to the show. Otherwise, I may post it later. All-right, here's one: "Contemplation":



Very Nearly Everything

Two weeks. One week the computer was down and last week, well, I'm lazy. Actually, last week I gave a retreat to class of eighth-graders. It went well. And  now there are less than two weeks to an art show I'm supposed to have paintings ready for. Supposed to. All of this stuff combined with work and family creates a lot of stress, which I've no doubt is something we all experience in our own lives in our own way. But... everything can be a tool for growth. Coming face to face with our weaknesses helps us overcome them. What does it all come down to? What is at the bottom of all our stress and anxiety? Desire.

Desire. Desire causes most if not all of our stress and anxiety. I am stressed about the retreat because my desire is for the kids to enjoy it. I get anxious about my art because I desire that people like it. Most of this is rooted in a desire to be praised or acknowledged: wasn't that a wonderful retreat? Isn't that a beautiful painting?

In a broader sense desire creates most of our suffering and anxiety because it is self-inflicted. We are anxious (and therefore suffer) over finances because we bought things we can't afford. Why did we do that? Usually because our culture has told us we need "this" to be happy. Our desire causes us to suffer because we don't have something, or someone, or haven't reached some-place that we think holds the key to contentment. If we ever do relieve our suffering by coming to possess whatever it was that we suffered over so desperately, we find a new anxiety over keeping it. I suffer because I must have this house, in this neighborhood, with this car in driveway to be finally happy and fulfilled. But now I'm anxious because I have to work longer hours to pay for it. I feel trapped because I have to stay with this job no matter how bad it gets because I can't stand the loss of any income. Worse, now I worry that someone might steal what I've got, or that what I have isn't good enough anymore and the guys at the country club will look down on me.

Seeking the praise of men instead of the peace of God.

Learning to relinquish desire is a major component of Jesus' teachings. It is a major part of the Apostolic letters in the New Testament. It is the core of the Christian monastic life. Interestingly enough it also concerns three of the Buddha's "Four Noble Truths"*. We were not created to be anxious and worried. God did not design us to suffer over anxiety about material things. We create most of our suffering. As the Buddha teaches, our suffering is the result of our desire. You want to relieve your suffering and anxiety; relieve your desire.

It's not what you think, or maybe it is. It is the commandment against coveting our neighbor's wife or goods. It is the deadly sin of envy. It lack of trust in God when Jesus tells His disciples to go out into the world with the clothes on their back; to be like the birds or lilies, not worrying about it. The modern saint and mystic, Padre Pio, says, "Hope, pray, and don't worry." The way not to worry is to trust in God avoid cluttering your life with things that create anxiety.

*Just in case you were wondering: The Four Noble Truths:

1. Life is filled with suffering.
2. Suffering is caused by desire (or attachment).
3. To relieve suffering, one must relieve desire (or attachment).
4. To relieve desire, follow the Eight-Fold Path**

**Kidding. I'm not writing all that.

Vacation

No post this week. I'm on vacation and that means vacation from everything except surf (and apparently yard work).

Mistaken Identity

I think was Archbishop Fulton Sheen that said, "Atheists are not atheists because they don't want to believe in God, they are atheists because they don't want to believe in sin."

We just don't want to acknowledge that there is a claim on our lives. Our culture has gone so far as to try and have it both ways; have our cake and eat it too, if you will. We have concocted denominations and religions that seek to deny sin. In this way we can have all the comforts of God without having to actually do anything. In essence, we want Christ but without all that gruesome cross business. We want freedom without responsibility. If this mentality were expressed in any form other than religion we would say a person was childish or immature. Because it is spirituality we excuse it. We are in a state of spiritual arrested development; the Peter Pan Syndrome of the celestial realm.

Let's say you've got a friend who got a job by making all sorts of promises to his employer about the things he was going to do and then made his agreement to show up and fulfill his duties to the best of his ability. Not too long and he starts showing up late and when he gets there he doesn't do anything. Eventually, he hardly ever even shows up, does no work, and even talk bad about his boss and company to others. And the kicker, he fully expects the company to continue to pay him. He would raise hell if they told him he was fired. That's our cultural spirituality: childish and immature. We expect our pay even though we don't do anything. It's not that I'm a bad employee, it's that the boss is a jerk.

Imagine a how a child operates. Why did you get punished? Is because you did something wrong? No, it's because Dad is mean. But why did Dad get mad in the first place? Is because you disobeyed? Perhaps on the surface, but there (hopefully) is something deeper. When I tell my 3-yr old not to touch the hot stove I don't explain the physics of heat transfer and what effect high temperatures have on human tissue; she wouldn't understand. But she does understand "Don't touch the stove; it will hurt you". As she matures she come to understand why and how the stove can hurt her. If she continues to try to touch the lit stove I don't say "Well as long as you believe that it won't hurt you...". I tell her she will will get a time-out (I feel stupid just typing that). She isn't punished because I'm mean. She is punished because her safety and future happiness depend (in part) to her learning that a hot stove will burn you, so don't touch it. In raising a child, freedom without responsibility would get you a dead child pretty quick.

So why do we get so upset at the idea that God has set out directions for life that He expects us to follow? Shouldn't we give Him the benefit of the doubt that, like the stove, we are a spiritual 3-yr old and He is trying to keep us from killing ourselves (our souls)? And, maybe when we mature, we come to understand why. We mature by accepting responsibility, not by shirking it or running from it. We mature by drawing nearer to Truth.

I Want To, But Not Really

I don't remember who said it and it really doesn't matter. If a saying is good, it stands on its own, not on the back the mouth that uttered it. If I were really confused I might think I said it, but I'm not and I didn't:

"The only reason you are not a saint is because you do not wholly want to be."

I know I didn't say that because I never say "wholly". It was probably G.K Chesterton. He was very British and the quote sounds very British. Regardless, it stands. It stands because the wisdom exists no matter who said it. It says that the only reason we can really give for not becoming the person God created us to be is that we don't want to be that person. We live under the misconception that we know better than anyone else, including God how to live to our fullest potential.

Just a side note: Do you think it's odd that we think we know how to make ourselves happy and well-adjusted but we buy self-help books written by someone else to tell us how to do it? Essentially, we say, "I know how to be happy: do what this This Guy says!" and call ourselves "free thinkers".

Back to saints and our laziness. I will stop saying "our" and go to "my" so I'm not speaking for anyone else. I realized the other day that the quote is true. At any moment there are a dozen things that I could be doing. What do I choose? I complain that I don't have time to meditate; what with the kids and house and work. As I sit in the chair flipping through Netflix (which is instantly available, meaning I can watch it at any time, it doesn't have to be now) I think, "The kids are asleep. It's only 8 o'clock. And my wife is putting her laundry away upstairs. I could probably use this time to to meditate." No sooner than that thought entered my mind another thought entered, "Endless Summer in HD! I better watch that!" The point: I could have easily turned off the TV and spent some time in meditation. It's not like I wouldn't have been able to watch TV later. So there is no reason for me not to pursue union with God. No reason that I can't be in prayer or meditation. I simply choose not to do it. I had the thought, and that's the worst. I knew what I ought to do. I knew what I really wanted to do, but as my lifeguard friend once said, "In most people laziness overrides the desire to be happy". I can say with near certainty that in my case this is true. I really do want to move closer to God, right?

So what is the cause of this spiritual laziness? Or even worse, some sort of American self-denial where I will deny my soul while gorging my physical appetites. Much of this attitude is probably related to a desire to be accepted. I want society to accept me. Oddly enough, this is the same society that in many ways I can't stand. I can't stand it for the same reasons that I want to be accepted by it. Our culture says that we are supposed to watch TV, otherwise how will I know what I'm supposed to think and buy. Our culture does not encourage silence and meditation. Our culture does not like people who would rather do-without. I have heard many times the TV described as the "Demon in the Corner".

In a more practical sense, ask yourself why you enjoy (maybe?) going on vacation to place that doesn't have a TV, or cell-phones, or Internet and we call this "relaxing" and say things like, "I wish I could live like this" as we lay on the beach or sit on a mountain. But... we go home and immediately plop down on the couch and turn on the TV or get in front of the computer and see if anyone missed us. How much money do Americans spend going to weekend spas where they sleep on the floor, do yoga, and meditate? Yet we go home talking about how great that weekend/retreat/vacation was and fall right back into old habits. So back to the quote. We could change all of this today. It seems that we really don't want to.

We don't want to because it means action. Even sitting in silence and meditation is not really passive. It's like a diet or exercise program; at first it really sucks and you're tempted to just forget it. But after a few days or weeks it not only becomes easier and more tolerable but you begin to see the difference it's making and you can't imagine going back to way you were. I'm going to illustrate this in a very simple way using the analogy our Teacher used:

Jesus said, "My yoke is easy and my burden is light." Simple enough. This is the hard part though. What Jesus is saying is that if you want to come with Him, you must put His yoke across your shoulders. That's difficult for us. If you've ever seen a yoke you know it is a large, cumbersome piece of wood designed to rest across your shoulders so you can carry heavy loads that dangle from ends. If you saw the yoke laying on the ground you would say, "That looks really heavy and carrying it any distance would just be awful." If you can get past your initial shock at what's being asked and actually pick up the yoke, Jesus says we'll realize that it isn't heavy at all, but you'll never know until you put it on. That is what Chesterton (I've decided) meant. There is something holding us back. There is something about picking up that yoke that scares us. Even though all of our education and experience tells us it will be great, sitting there, on the ground, it just looks so heavy. We don't pick it up because we don't really want to.

We are too lazy to be happy. 

Eternal Vigilance

Last Friday, New Year's Eve, me, my brother, our friend Garret, and about ten other guys (and some girls) stood stoically on the beach patiently waiting on the wind to shift. It was a period of hopeful anticipation. The promise was one of a coming cool-front that would turn the winds offshore and shape the waves for the most epic day of the season. Three o'clock, they said. That's when the front would hit. So we all stood there, staring through the sea-fog and watched the waves, waiting for that moment when the foam would start to be blown off the top, signifying the switch.

Sunday was the Feast of the Epiphany, celebrating the arrival of the magi in Bethlehem. If I were smarter I would have thought about the connection as we waited on the winds. I would have have thought about how we were like those magi, led to the beach on a promise but still not really knowing what we would find when we got there. I would have thought about how they followed a star the same way I'm following the palms, watching to see if there is a change in the direction they're blowing. I would have thought about these guys trekking across hundreds of miles of desert to go to a backwater town in a backwater Roman province. I might have made the connection when my brother said, "Let's just get in. That way we'll already be out there when it shifts. We can be first." Now, I must admit, that's not exactly what he said, I cleaned it up a lot. But the thought stands: to go into the unknown, to be first, to be willing to risk the chop and the rip-tide to get the first waves. To have your place before the others realize they need to paddle out.

Because I'm not smarter, I made no such connection. Instead I ran around on the beach like a child, cursed the wind for not shifting, damned the fog for being so foggy, and made fun of the way my friends looked in their wetsuits. When my brother insisted that we paddle out, I did go. The water was cold (or should I say, the water is cold) and it would have been very easy to make up an excuse to go in. After all, the wind was still blowing on-shore and the fog was holding on pretty good. But I went anyway. And, yes, we were the the only three out. And even though nothing had changed to create the epic day we were all hoping for, the waves were still big and not too choppy. We were able to surf all we wanted while everyone else waited on the beach. I know what you're thinking, yeah, but when the wind does turn you'll be too tired to surf. No, you're wrong. Because, as darkness started to fall, the wind still hadn't shifted. If we had waited, we wouldn't have surfed at all. If we had sat there, waiting on a perfect certainty, we never would have left the beach.

All By Myself

In the modern, secular, post-Christian West we love our individualistic delusions of grandeur. I can do it on my own. I don't need help. I don't need instruction. I'm perfectly capable of interpreting things. This is particularly true in religious and spiritual matters. We tend to think that we are the authority and our interpretation and opinion is equally valid with any other. The is a very peculiar idea. We don't take this attitude with anything else. Or, at least, very few of us do. Those that do take the "I know everything about everything" approach to life are generally understood to be either harmless fools or raging narcissists.

Let's have a thought experiment. Would you trust yourself to build a rocket and then get in it and fly to the moon? All of you out there who are engineers, think of something else. My undergraduate is a liberal arts degree that required one math class called "Math for Liberal Arts Majors". I can tell you with some certainty that 2+2 does equal 4. I also know, at a college level, that circles are round, squares are not. Now, let's say that like several of our friends you happen to be a NASA engineer working on the new shuttle (I almost called it a space-ship, but I don't want to hear about it). Okay, so you're a NASA engineer and I'm me possessing all the math and engineering skills that my beloved state requires as "minimum". I invite you over one day and take into my garage and show you the shuttle I have built (and to make it really ring true, with plans I got off the Internet). What would your reaction be? You may laugh and ridicule the abject stupidity of me attempting to design and build a functioning shuttle in my garage because I not only lack anything resembling proper materials but I don't have anything close to a rudimentary understanding of what is needed to construct functioning spacecraft. Or you may smile and patronizingly congratulate the village idiot on a job well done while you secretly hope I don't really intend to fly it and the 55 gallon drum labeled "Rocket Fuel" is really just my lawn clippings. Finally, you might tell me truthfully that I have not built a shuttle. What I have done is poorly construct a death-trap of duck-tape and tin foil mounted on a wheelbarrow that in some abstract way remotely resembles something that was used in a mid-century B-movie about space. You might add that even if I had the plans from NASA for the shuttle, I wouldn't be able to read them. You would remind me that you spent many years in school being taught by experts in the field how to read those plans. That you live and work in the field of space-stuff and even you, with a whole team of engineers, still get it wrong sometimes. But... what is the thing you wouldn't say? You wouldn't say that I have made a fine shuttle and if I believe that it will fly then it will. You won't tell me that rockets, however different, are equally capable of space-flight. You also won't tell me that it's up to each individual to decide how a space shuttle should be designed and built and that we should be give equal respect to all designs because all space shuttles are just different paths to the same moon. Why wouldn't you say that? Because it's stupid. It's very simple, if you don't follow the plan you can't build the shuttle correctly and it won't fly and it might blow up on take off. Sometimes (the Challenger) even if experts do follow the plan they've made accidents happen. To follow the plans, to design and build a shuttle, you don't just pick up a pen and paper and start drawing and assume that because you had math in high school you know all you need to know the leave the earth's orbit in your homemade ship. You learn, you educate yourself through reputable sources, through tried and true methods. You go to the people that are supposed to know what they are talking about and you ask questions and you listen and you discuss. And after many years of this you might be allowed to get coffee for the guys who are designing the next shuttle. 

My Homer Simpson Space Shuttle is the way (as ridiculous as it seems) many of us understand our spiritual lives. Most us possess what might be considered an elementary school knowledge of our faith (if we're lucky) yet we present our opinions on all matter religious as if we were the ranking theologian at the Angelicum. Many of us stopped our religious education before high school, which would put us at about a 6th grade level. Again, there are also many that have no religious, theological, or philosophical education, yet, we believe our opinion should be given equal weight to St. Thomas Aquinas or the greatest living theologian, Benedict XVI. Why? Why do we think this? You wouldn't ask a junior-high student to design a shuttle or handle your retirement accounts. So why do we trust a junior-high student with our soul? I don't trust myself to change my own oil. One of the dumbest statements I've ever heard in my life is the very typical, "I went to Catholic school, I know all about the Church". That's the equivalent of saying, "I took math in high school, I know all about quantum physics."

We must look to the experts. We must look to the tried and true. The experts I mean are the experts in the spiritual life- the saints. We must look to what God has provided us; the Church and the Scriptures and all that is contained within those two. If I'm not sure how to do something and I don't want to screw it up, I try to find someone who does know how to do it, because they've done it already and done it well. If I want to grow in my spiritual life I want to look to those who have already done it and succeeded. Read the lives of the saints. Read the works of the saints. Read your scriptures and receive the sacraments. Together these are blueprints for our lives.    

Three Little Birds

Before you read this I humbly request you listen to Bob Marley's "Three Little Birds".

So, our Clementine tree is full of fruit, and yesterday it looked like we should be able to pick it today. Every time I see that tree, with the fruit slowly ripening, it reminds to keep things simple. It reminds of the joy found in simplicity. The theological concept of simplicity ties in with the previous post concerning non-attachment. But talking about simplicity and non-attachment also brings up a host of issues that have to be worked out be each person on their own terms.

Simplicity is not being lazy, cheap, or irresponsible. The purpose of simplicity is to free us from the desires of the world so we can pursue God with our whole being. Simplicity, at least in large part, is pretty subjective. For instance you may really be attached to something like cars whereas I could care less about cars so long as it can carry surfboard and has an A/C. But then again, you could maybe careless about surfboards, or to a greater degree, living in place you can surf (that's a strong attachment). What this means is that to achieve a degree of simplicity of life is something we have to judge for ourselves in so far as we are able to measure the extent that we are attached to world and the extent to which the distractions of a hectic life impede spiritual progress. Simplicity is a major theme in contemplative religious orders; the simpler our lives the fewer things calling for our attention. A Trappist will own nothing and live in very sparse conditions because he knows that through a renunciation of material goods he is free of all the complications and distractions that come from them, he is simple.

How are we, the laity, supposed to achieve simplicity? After all, if we have a family we have to house, clothe, and feed that family. As much as I would like to, I don't think I could get away with wearing the same thing to work everyday. Because of where I live it would be nearly impossible to get rid of my car. So what can we do? In a very rudimentary sense this is where people like Dave Ramsey and a few others make sense (albeit at an extremely basic level). To get out of debt, to not owe anybody anything, to only have what you can pay for, this is a starting place only because lack of debt frees you. To remove the obstacle of financial debt is not only physically freeing but it is  huge mental burden released. Now you can concentrate on God instead of car payments (notice I don't say mortgage payments; I am a realist). I do know that when my mortgage is paid off I will have a party.

Back to the topic: Simplicity and non-attachment go hand-in-hand. To remove attachment is to simplify. To simplify is to begin to know true freedom; why? Because we know that the "Truth will set us free". Once we begin the process of simplification we begin the process of recognizing our buyer's remorse and return the lie we bought; that the world would provide contentment and stuff would make us happy and free.

In a practical sense, think about the things that pull at you the hardest. I mean, of course, the bad things, not things like family or community. Although even these can be detrimental to the extent they distract us from our real mission, to know God. See what I mean about it getting difficult? Anyway, go back to those things that pull and distract, the useless things. How about the TV or the Internet? How about work (yes, Dad, I said work)? For an example I'll use TV. Most of us know we spend too much time watching TV and even if we don't (don't know or don't admit), we would probably agree that at a point we are using TV as a distraction. Let me qualify this by saying I am the last person that is going to say something like we shouldn't watch TV because it isn't productive. The Cult of Productivity is one the deadliest heresies in American culture. But, instead of TV you could be engaged in something that you are really passionate about, something that leads you into the eternal (like creating art or music, for instance). It is also possible that what takes the place of TV could be nothing. How may of us would love time to do nothing? Use the time to take a walk or sit on the patio, learn to enjoy the world God has created for us.

If nothing else, Advent is beginning in week or so, use the time to lose something and gain something. See how you like it.       

You're Killin' Me, Man

Original Painting by Jeff Montgomery

Now that the ranting is over, on to more important things. I alluded to non-attachment earlier and to the fact that insanity lies in continuing to do things we know don't work in the hope that THIS time it will work; essentially, we are insane. I also understand that to many people the idea of non-attachment or disciplines that include ascetic* practices are like dirty words, horribly offensive to the modern ear. But it doesn't need to be. In fact it should be welcome. The world has convinced us all to walk around with our heads up our... in the sand (that's better, but the imagery isn't as powerful).

I'm going to assume that no one reading this is a monk or cloistered nun, that I can focus primarily on those of us slogging it out in the ruins of Mammon. In a world that is built on the lie that more and newer equals happiness and contentment, the question is not just how can we practice non-attachment, but why? With all the gilded-crap that modern American life has to offer, why would I purposely limit my gluttonous life-style? After all, by the time the bottomless pit that is my carnal pleasure becomes a problem, they'll have invented a pill to fix it. The obvious, or maybe not, reason is that I know this is not reality. I know that such a life doesn't really make me happy (a moment) or content (an underlying state-of-being).

See, non-attachment is not simply denying myself all manner of pleasurable things. In fact, it only begins as denial. Denial is the infant stage of non-attachment. In its immaturity, non-attachment is the proverbial teenager: whiny, preachy, and without a real understanding of itself. The basic denial has to mature. In maturity, non-attachment is true freedom (like riding in a '76 Lincoln Continental between San Bernadino and San Diego). The true freedom comes from not being held hostage by vice. Freedom is the ability to move towards God unimpeded. Our attachments bind us; hold us back. Here's a simple example: if I define myself by what the world thinks of me, if my self-worth is dependent on meeting my cultural definition of success, I am not free to jump into the "Great Ocean" to quote the Dali Lama. My attachment to the world and to the successes of the world will hold me in chains on the shore. Once I am freed from an attachment to success as the world defines it, that attachment is no longer binding on me. This is a large part of what Jesus means when he says we have to "die to ourselves" in order to live.

To be non-attached does not mean that I have to become a stoic, joyless, hermit. The opposite should be true (again, issues of maturity here). Let's say I can accomplish the feat of destroying my attachment to particular people.  The modern instinct is to say, "That's horrible". Actually it's another of those pesky paradoxes of faith. The freedom from attachment to people doesn't make me without love or indifferent to others. Rather, freedom from attachment to a person or persons frees me to really love them, that is to love them without possession. As long as I am attached to a person, my love for them is contingent on whether that person fulfills my ideal of whatever attached me to them in the first place. However, if I am non-attached, I have relinquished an attachment to them that is dependent on an ideal created in my own mind. I would argue (though not here, for the sake of space) that much of the divorce and discontent in our culture is the result of attachment and when the object fails to live up to the ideal, to the fantasy, we are discontented. But if we are in a state of non-attachment (which really means a total attachment to God) we are able to love as God loves, or at least as close as we can get on this side of sanctity. To love as God loves is love without qualification. As Jesus says, "...to love and not count the cost."

The goal of non-attachment is not to free us to be indifferent, but to give ourselves away. It is the freedom to love and not demand or dominate. It is to love and not require or qualify. Every attachment binds us to a spiritual state that demands justification and keeps us from being what we are created to be. Every attachment we break allows us to enjoy the things of creation even more because we are not married to a preconceived notion or outcome. Each attachment we leave behind does not say, "You are useless, and unimportant and I leave you" but instead says, "I want to know you for what you really are, what you were created to and not what I imagine or demand you to be".

The challenge is to find the things we are attached to. What do we hold in such esteem that any deviation from expectations leaves us angry or discontent? Find it and leave it, or at least your attachment to it. I used to be discontented at living on the Gulf because it wasn't San Diego or Tamarindo. I learned that I was holding on to something that never actually was and it never would be. Once I realized that the Gulf is the Gulf, I loved it and don't want anything more. 

*asceticism (ascesis)- the practice of penance, mortification, and self-denial to promote greater self-mastery and to foster the way of perfection by embracing the way of the cross (CCC).

Simplify, Man. Simplify

A saying that gets thrown around a lot, without much thought it seems: The Definition of Insanity: doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result.

And just a little something to further illustrate the point; from the Desert Fathers:

Abba Anthony said, "The time is coming when people will be insane, and when they see someone who is not insane, they will attack that person saying: You are insane because you are not like us."

So, basically, we are all insane. I'm going to be picky for a moment, so bear with me. We all want to be happy. Even people who revel in their misery want to be happy, they just have a twisted notion that being miserable can make them happy. Now for the picky part. I don't like the word happy. I don't like it because it doesn't mean what we think it means. Happy is a derivative of an Old English word that means accident; or something that happens, hence happy. To be happy is a momentary occurrence. It is fleeting. Finding $20 on the ground is a happy moment, not a lasting sense of peace and fulfillment. Properly, we are after either contentment or joy. Both terms denote an underlying state not affected by externals. I can have joy in the midst of suffering, I cannot be happy in the midst of suffering (unless I am really clinically insane, even then, I'm not happy, I'm crazy). Again, what we are really after is contentment and joy.

What makes us insane? What is it that we are doing over and over expecting different results? For most of us, I would say, "Everything". We want a joy that is by its very nature Otherworldly yet we only look for it in this world. We think that some-thing is going to bring us contentment when it is really some-One. We know this, we just pretend we don't. Because this is a blog and not a philosophical or theological discourse on the nature of ascetic practice, I'm not going to spend any more time on this, I'll just get to the point of this post:

Things don't bring contentment, fleeting happiness, yes, contentment, no. When I get a new surfboard I'm like a kid at Christmas but I my joy does not live and die based on having a new board. What I'm getting at is simplicity of life. Oddly enough, every serious religious tradition in the world teaches simplicity of life as major force in moving toward God which is moving toward joy. When we simplify our lives through ascetic practices or even just in the spirit of "clearing away the clutter" we are doing more good for ourselves than we realize. To remove something from our lives is to free us. Much of our society is focused on addiction. Companies want us to suffer from addiction: addiction to technology, fearing you'll be left behind without the latest and greatest. There is addiction to entertainment and to being entertained; how often do we (or our kids) groan "I'm bored, there's nothing to do" when in reality we are culture of spectators, we watch what someone else does, we don't do it. How much stress do we cause ourselves over the material things that clutter our lives? We may not recognize it, but the material clutter quickly causes mental clutter and that results in spiritual clutter. Without giving example after example I'm going to relay a parable that illustrates it well, I think:

A Buddhist monk writes (paraphrase): We must seek to be detached from material things. As soon as we own something we find we must keep it with us, or we may lose it. The next think we know we have to leave for some reason, but we can't allow our precious possession to be unprotected, so we build a wall around it. Now that we have a wall, people (all of whom have their own things) will wonder what we have that is so precious that it has to be protected by a wall. Now we worry that they will try to climb the wall and steal our thing so we become afraid to leave, because we need to watch the wall. But, we have to leave, so we hire a guard to watch the wall. Then we have thoughts about the guard wondering what is behind the wall he is guarding, he might steal it for himself! The very person we hired to protect it! Well, better hire another guard to guard the guard. What if they form a conspiracy? And on and on until one day we have peoples and nations killing each other because someone MIGHT have something better than them behind their wall. All of our thoughts and our lives become consumed with the thing s we have, the things we want, and the things others have. And we have no peace.

Think about it. Next week we'll discuss some ways to ease into a spirit of detachment and asceticism.

Other Surfers

Thomas Merton once said that in life, with every person you come in contact with, you have the opportunity for that moment to be heaven or hell for that person. Every interaction you have throughout your day moves that person closer to or further away from God. Now is the time to ask yourself which way you are sending people. Now I'm going to tie this into surfing. There several distinct character-types in the surfing world. Even if you've never surfed, you ought to be able to identify with one of them. I hope you'll catch the analogy of these types to people in our spiritual lives and how each one is illustrated in Merton's assertion. I'm not going to tell you which one I am. We're all sitting in the same line-up. We're all trying to catch the same waves.*

Type 1: The Newbie- This person is just learning. They are awkward and unsure. They make a lot of mistakes and can get in the way. They have caught their first wave and are hooked. It is youthful enthusiasm. They won't catch the best wave, they may not even catch that many waves, but they have a certain contentment that is contagious. They are happy just to be there. They are over-joyed at surfing whitewash on a wave an experienced surfer wouldn't even paddle for. The wave is still awe-inspiring mystery and every encounter is the best thing ever.

Type 2: The Guru- This guy is a seasoned veteran. He doesn't need the biggest or best wave. He'll let you have it. It doesn't matter, whatever wave he takes is going to look like the wave of the day. He's not fighting with the wave, he's in a mutual embrace with the wave. For this surfer a session is no longer about wave-counts and tricks or the people on beach seeing what he just did; surfing is about surfing. He is genuinely happy to see any surfer catch a good wave and have fun. His surfing is the relationship of the lover and the beloved.

Type 3: The Old Guy- He's the one set up ten-yards behind everyone else so he gets first pick of the waves because, he's earned it. He gripes about the conditions; the waves were better/water was cleaner/beaches less crowded when he was younger. The kids' shorts are too long. There are too many people in the water. Why don't they go somewhere else? After all, he's been surfing here for years. He's one of the guys that make a beginner not want to come back. His actions teach the kids that waves are property and you don't have to share. In many ways, he's forgotten why he loves surfing, now it's more habit.

Type 4: The Pro- Well, first, on the Gulf Coast there are no pros, so I'm being sarcastic. The Pro is the guy that believes himself to be of professional ability. In many ways the Pro is the Old Guy before he got old. He will have the latest board technologies that are advertised in magazines. He will wear the the latest in current surf-fashion and have all manner of advertising on his board, truck, and clothing even though he's not sponsored by any of them. He may be a very talented surfer, but he's a jerk. He believes that his talent means he has right-of-way on any wave he chooses and everyone should marvel at his greatness. When he is surfing he makes sure everyone knows it. If another surfer catches a good wave he sees it as a personal affront and seeks to establish dominance. Where the Guru embraces the wave, the Pro attacks it. His surfing is a battle with the ocean for supremacy. The wave is an object to be used.

Type 5: The Kook- Just like the Pro only he sucks. He is all advertisement, no content. Calling himself a surfer and looking/acting the part is an attempt to feed his ego. The Pharisee of surfing.

Type 6: The Betty- Though the Betty is usually female for the purposes of this metaphor it is not restrictive. Betty is not really a surfer. Betty owns a surfboard. Surfing is an excuse for Betty to paddle her board out in the middle of half-a-dozen men in her bikini. She may try for a wave, she may not, but that's not the point. The point is: did you see me in my bikini?

Each of these is a gross generalization of surfers. These are the people you encounter in the water. Some enhance your surfing, others distract. In reality most of us are probably a combination of a few of these stereotypes. When I think about what Merton said I have to ask myself which one I am. Am I a newbie, still full of wonder and awe? It's possible to maintain that innocence (maybe?). But there is a danger there. If I remain a newbie people will be attracted to my joy and want to surf, but they may also be turned away by lack of real understanding, my nievete. Am I a guru? I would hope that we all read this and think we want to be the guru (but if we already think we are, we're probably dishonest). I hope that my surfing, my attitude in the line-up, my overall surfness draws people into the water. I'm not old enough to be an Old Guy and I really hope I'm not heading that direction. I hope my surfing never becomes a source of resentment and holier-than-thou judgmentalism. I would be genuinely saddened to think my behavior had ever made a newbie or a grom (kid that surfs) feel unwelcome in the water. I would also hope I'm not the Pro. This one dangerous because I am good and I know it. This kind of attitude has a very real possibility of turning into a self-rightousness and an arrogance that not only scare the beginners away but anger the veterans that can help me move past the level I'm stuck on. I know I'm not a Kook, and hope you aren't either. I guess, in the end we should be striving to be the Guru. At least we're on the right path even if we haven't got there yet.  

Anybody out there who is a surfer, I'd love to get your take on this. What are the different character types you've encountered? Is this assessment close to true, or way off?

*Obviously, the line-up is metaphor for our spiritual life and the wave is metaphor for God.