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.    

Signs of Life

Yesterday we got into a discussion about signs. It went back and forth over the topics of what signs are, should we look for signs, should we ask for signs, etc. On one hand Jesus tells the Pharisees that he will not be giving them a sign. This is not because he can't or there is anything wrong with signs, he is only telling them that they have been given signs non-stop for thousands of years, up to and including Himself and they ignored them. Why should they be given another? Essentially, Jesus is saying we don't need signs, everything we need has already been provided, just do it. On the other hand, in the lives of the saints and even the apostles, we find God offering them a non-coercive but easily understandable sign of His will for them to accept of reject. In our own lives, if we are honest, we (probably in hind-sight) can recognize the moments God made His will manifest to us in a particular way. So should we look for signs? The issue made me think of an analogy, follow me if you will:

What is a sign? Let's say it's something that gives evidence of a presence or offers a clue toward direction. For example, God giving you a sign that He is with you or God giving you a sign of His will, or rather the direction He wants you to move. On to the analogy:

Let's say I'm a soldier (I wasn't a soldier, I was a Marine, big difference). Anyway, let's say I'm patrolling through the jungle hunting an enemy platoon. I will pay attention in a way that is very different than a leisurely stroll through the park. I will look for indications (that would be signs) of the enemy's presence or direction; things like snapped twigs, over-turned leaves, a piece or thread on a branch, or boot-prints. These things are often so small that if I am not looking for them I would walk right by and possibly right into an ambush. To further the analogy, it's not enough that I be on the lookout for signs, I have to be trained and experienced enough to know what I'm looking for, otherwise I may mistake something for a sign that will send me in the wrong direction, or even worse, it could be a trick and a trap. What I'm getting at here is that recognizing and interpreting a sign or signs is much more involved than simply asking for them.

Very often if we are looking for a sign we will find one, and amazingly, it will tell us exactly what we want! Everything we are tempted to take as sign needs to be run past the Pathfinder, because he knows the difference. It would do us well to remember St. Paul instructing us that even if an angel should tell us something contrary to the gospel it is a lie and he is no angel but a demon of hell. A big part of a mature spirituality is the recognition that we don't know and in many ways can't know so long as we're on this side of eternity. We need a Pathfinder to help us read the signs correctly, so we don't walk into an ambush.

Some will say, "If you're looking for signs you will see them whether they are real or not." This is true, at least to a degree, and on par with reading the horoscopes. What the person making this kind of assumption fails to note is the distinction in spiritual growth. A person in their spiritual infancy must be wary reading signs into everything because, like the inexperienced soldier, will see the enemy behind every rock and tree. The trained and experienced soldier knows what to look for and what to ignore, so it should stand to reason that he will "see" more signs and interpret them correctly. In the spiritual life this comes through taking time to study and learn but most importantly taking time to be in God's presence. Just as in tracking your enemy through the jungle, if you are on the right trail the sign will become more apparent and easier to read. And just like that patrol, the closer you get the louder and more distinct the signs are because they aren't just clues of a platoon that passed by hours ago but they are the actual sound of their voices and the rattle of their equipment.

Now, to get off the military analogy. Think about the Christmas song "Do You Hear What I Hear?" It's about signs and how we recognize and interpret them. The song begins with Creation asking the lamb if it has noticed what is happening. It goes on to the shepherds and the magi, all them being asked, essentially, "Did you read the signs? Do you get it?" They do, of course, because they were already on the path and they knew what they were looking for. They read the signs as clues to what was coming and when they got closer they finally understood what all the signs had been pointing to, or they recognized the direction they supposed to go and they went. The huge difference comes in with (not in the song, in real life) the ways the signs are interpreted. The shepherds, the magi, and others read the signs and came to see the Christ-child who will save the world. Herod (who couldn't read the signs and had to them explained by the magi because he didn't even notice them) interpreted the Child as a threat to his power. Just something to think about these last few weeks of Advent.    

Stupid Winter



 Photograph By Gary Norbraten


I dislike winter intensely. I also know that what we call winter and what most of the U.S. will call winter are two very different things. Well, that's why I live here and not there. Winter; why do I hate you? Let me count the ways: 1) cold surf, 2) wetsuits that make you look like a B-movie space ranger, 3) pants and shoes. This list is by no means exhaustive, feel free to add to it. Granted, our winter will last only about ten days over a three month period, but still, I had to bring the pineapple plants inside last night. Some people love winter. I'll bet that they love it for the same reasons I hate it and the love and hate of winter are really both the same spiritual response.

Spiritually, what is winter? It's the beginning of Advent. What is Advent? It's the season of preparation for Christmas. It is also the season of "ends". With the cold comes death. Think about the first cold-front that blows in. The time changes and that days are growing shorter and darker. The plants start to die or hibernate (well, not so much here, but I've seen movies where they did). The world is coming to a close, creation is going to sleep.

This is where the love/hate comes in... I hate winter because it means I have to anticipate Spring. I hate it because it means that everything is coming to a close and I have to wait for the new birth. I hate the cold because it tells me that the old is falling away. For the same reasons, some love the winter. They love the crispness or even the bitterness of the cold because it tells them that Spring is coming. They rejoice in the falling away of the old because it prepares for the new. I hate, they love, but really for the same reasons: we both long for Spring.

Where is Advent in all this? It is the preparation for Christmas. It is the dark before the dawn, the coldest part of night. It's no coincidence that St. John the Baptist's Nativity is around (it used to be ON) the Summer Solstice, that is the longest day of the year. John's birth signified the beginning of the end. The close of the Old Covenant is symbolized by the the days growing darker as we approach Christmas. We plunge into the dark days of waiting, wondering, and perhaps mourning, that is, asking if Spring will ever come, if we will survive the darkness. Christmas (for the woefully uncatechized, the celebration of Christ's nativity) is symbolically placed on the Winter Solstice (or now, December 25). Winter Solstice is the shortest day of the year. We celebrate the birth of Jesus on the shortest day of the year because upon his birth, every day the light grows stronger as the darkness retreats. Death turns to new life. Warmth overtakes the cold. The nativity symbolizes the new beginning, the New Covenant.

The question is how are we going to move through Advent this year? Are we going to rejoice that Christmas is near? Or do we find sorrow in knowing that there is still quite a bit of encroaching darkness to endure before the light returns? If we are honest, I would hope that what we are really doing is a bit of both. I hope that can let ourselves know a joyful longing. We can know that God is so close, yet so far. When we are sorrowful at the distance we find peace in His closeness. Before we become complacent at His nearness, we are reminded of how great the distance between us.

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).

The Difference Difference Makes

Gary Norbraten http://www.blaryphotography.com/

"Emerald peaks polish heaven. I wander,
sweeping clouds away, forgetting years,

looking for the ancient Way. Resting
against a tree, I listen to stream water,

black ox dozing among warm blossoms,
white crane asleep in towering pines.

A voice calls through river-tinted dusk,
but I've descended into cool mist alone."

Li Po, Looking for Yung, the Recluse Master

I lied. Last week I said we would discuss practical ways to begin a practice of detachment. Well, we're not, at least not totally. What I want to focus on is the concept of different, of Other, particularly as it relates to our spiritual lives.

If we are going to pray and meditate, if we are to be able to let go we need a situation that invites letting go. We need a moment that invites ascension. We know when we are in a place that calls us into the Other. The Druids called it the Threshold; a place not exactly a place in a time not exactly a time. The Threshold is where heaven and earth meet, where the eternal touches the temporal, where the Other enters the Ordinary. Of course, this can happen at any time, whenever and however God chooses. But in the same way that prayer does not command a response from God, it does prepare us to better receive God; we can prepare a place that better enables us to enter into that Threshold. In essence this is what the church building is supposed to do. This is the intention of any sacred space. The intention is to elevate the heart and mind to the eternal, to the Other.

Many of us like to pretend that we aren't affected by things like the way a space is designed or the style of music we hear in reference in a given circumstance. I thought that. Then I realized (and maybe you're different) I am very much affected by sights and sounds, or as the popular saying goes with regard to the Church with "smells and bells". Perhaps I'm just not capable of separating the physical and spiritual. The world I inhabit physically does infect my spiritual life. However, I can't really see this as wrong or bad, after all, we are both physical and spiritual beings. Much of what we know and love begins with the senses. That being said, my contention is that a major hurdle for many of us (I know for me) in spiritual growth is a sense of the Other.

Now, I get to rant. One of my pet peeves is bad liturgical music and bad liturgy in general. I know there are plenty of arguments from both sides and I know that the mass is valid even if I don't like the music or think the mass lacks reverence, etc. So save the argument, this is purely personal taste. I just hope you will at least understand my point even if not agreeing. The mass is a Threshold. It is where the Other and the Ordinary meet. The problem is we are so infected with the Ordinary that we don't recognize the other. This is why a church shouldn't be a glorified high-school gym. This is why I shouldn't hear the same music at mass that hear on the radio. When I walk into the church I should be invited into the Other. I should know that I am in a sacred space. I should know that I am somewhere different. I would imagine anyone who has been to many of the old churches in Europe or Mexico understands the difference I'm talking about versus the average suburban American parish. I'm not saying it can't be done with modern style, it can, I've seen it, just not often. So I'm going to give you a thought experiment:

Imagine walking up to the door of a Gothic or Romanesque church that is 800 years old. Imagine the gargoyles and every other intricate detail carved into the stone. Try to see the spires that climb so high you nearly get vertigo looking up at them. Hear the creaking and feel the weight of a thirty-foot carved wooden door that is older than our country. You step inside and notice the cool silence only broken by the echo of steps on centuries old stone. You smell the lingering scent of incense and the warmth of the sun filtered through stained glass depictions of bloody saints holding their own severed heads or angels armed for medieval combat. Imagine dim light coming from gas chandeliers suspended by yards of heavy chain. Hear the reverberation of a single note struck on a low bell. The priest comes in a solemn procession behind the crucifix that is the Church's legion standard and ahead of the cloud pouring through the tinkling chains of the incensor, his robes and vestments sliding across the stone floor. He begins a low chant in a language that is not spoken but is eternal. The mass begins. You know something is about to happen. You know that Ordinary was left when the door was opened and the Other is here. Not just here in a vague spiritual sense, but here in a physical, tangible way; in sights, smells, and sounds. You know that you stand on the Threshold.

This is very different than walking into a modern parish. Imagine, if you would, but you probably don't have to imagine, simply remember last week, the nondescript double-steel doors, oddly similar to the ones at your kid's school, because they came from the same Home Depot. Note the feel of the aging low-pile carpet that you remember being a very hip color palate twenty years ago, now it just looks dated and gross. But don't worry, you won't have time to notice it before someone you have never met comes up to shake your hand and welcome you and had you a "worship-aid". As you move from the foyer (it used to called a narthex) into the church (again, the nave) you notice the comfortable stadium style pews arranged in the organic "round", so everyone can see better. You nearly genuflect out of habit, then realize you have no idea where the tabernacle is. As you prepare for the sacrifice of the mass you can't help but hear the many conversations going on around you so you try to concentrate on the crucifix that is the more palatable "Resurrection Jesus" who looks oddly like the lead singer from Alabama. The signal that mass is about to begin, a lady in a dated pantsuit will ascend to the Ikea podium and welcome everyone by asking that they turn off their phones and say "Hi" to those around them. Then, the first chord of the guitar is strummed, signaling the procession of clergy in tablecloths dancing down the isle in front of a clapping deacon who is singing "Jesus Loves Butterflies" two notes slow. After an obligatory bow to the alter and the banners with the latest Catholic PC slogan , the priest can get to what's really important, telling a few jokes to get everybody excited...

It's not that the modern mass is wrong or that it's invalid in any way. It just doesn't seem to invoke a real sense of the sacred, at least not for me. It doesn't make me think, "This is truly where heaven and earth meet." This is because from the moment I walk in the door there is more a feeling of a town hall meeting or a "praise and worship" session than an encounter with the Mystery of mysteries. I have to ask, why am I here? Am I here to be entertained? Am I here to move further into an ever-widening mystery that is our faith?

What a difference difference makes.    

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.