Someday
August 18, 2008
You better learn it fast; you better learn
it young,
cause, someday never comes.
Credence Clearwater Revival
Contentment. I'm 24 and have never known
it. Forever in pursuit and don't' event know
what I'm chasing. Harold Abrahams
(Chariots of Fire)
Are you willing to be loved for being this
you? John Bradshaw
Trying to be happy by accumulating
possessions is like trying to satisfy hunger
by taping sandwiches all over your body.
George Carlin
Sister Lychen had a word of prophesy every
Sunday in her Pentecostal Church. She'd stand
up and say, "The Lord has revealed to me that
I will be caught up in the clouds of glory."
Every week, the same prophesy.
Eugene's parents would make him take Sister Lychen a plate of cookies, and when he'd get to her house, he would find all the blinds down, and all the shutters closed. Old Sister Lychen lived in a house of gloom. She was waiting to die. In his book, Christ Plays in Ten Thousand Places, Eugene Peterson writes that Sister Lychen represents a brand of Christian faith where life here and now is just a trial, so that life can really start in heaven. You know, someday.
Eugene had a fantasy of bursting into Sister Lychen's house, opening all the window blinds, and saying, "Sister Lychen, look! There's a whole world outside! There's a world of turtles and hummingbirds and hawks and grizzly bears."
I guess we all have some shutters or blinds somewhere in our mental house. It's our way of waiting for someday.
"When you coming home, dad?" "I don't know when, But we'll get together then. You know we'll have a good time then."
I'm waiting for my real life to begin.
Lord knows that there's a plethora of cheerleaders with can't miss advice or products about living in the present moment. I was lured by the website WhyWaitLiveNow, which not only assured me that I earn an extra $10,000, but backed it up with a convincing picture of an eye-catching woman enjoying life on a hammock. They were so convinced that I was worthy of living life now, they wanted me to send in some money as a sign of my commitment. Now those are some big hearted people.
There's also a fair number of people who truck in the business of nursing regret, as if self-pity is an adequate fuel for getting through the day. Like the psychologist who told his patient, "I've been treating you for years about feeling guilty. And you tell me you still feel it. You should be ashamed of yourself."
More than ever, there are plenty of people who find great motivation in lists, and will give me a list of things I need to do to find inner peace and life in the moment. Sort of like the recent movie Bucket List. That list of things we want (or need or feel compelled) to do before we die.
I saw a book called 10,000 things to do before you die. I had just started my own list, with only three things on it, so the number 10,000 made me a little dizzy. So I did what was needed to be done: I sat down on the back patio and watched my cat play in the stream, doing his darndest to catch the new tadpoles, apparently unaware of any pressure about a list of things to complete before cat heaven. While he's at play, I'll sitting mouth agape because a Kingfisher honors us with his presence and charisma--this elusive, noble and elegant bird, parking himself on a limb near the pond, hoping for lunch. Nothing struck his fancy, so after ten minutes or so, he moved on. I guess the good news is that for a chunk of time I didn't care one whit about any list to check off that would make my life complete.
The hitch in our giddy-up is that we're wired to consume, add on, scurry and expand. Like the rich man in Luke's Gospel, "What shall I do? I have no place to store my crops. I will tear down my barns and build bigger ones, and there I will store all my grain and my goods. And I'll say to myself, "You have plenty of good things laid up for many years. Take life easy; eat, drink and be merry." When the goal of living in the present is just another conquest (what we attain, buy, achieve), we are like (to borrow from Meister Eckhart) a man riding an ox looking for an ox to ride.
But hey, if you're a list maker, more power to you. Just don't make it so heavy it weighs you down.
I guess if push came to shove, I could make a list with three things.
One. Practice the prayer suggested by a Buddhist monk, "If I should wake before I die."
Two. Have a Sabbath Moment. Sit still and let the other stuff go. If you're lucky, a Kingfisher (or turtle or hummingbird or hawk or grizzly bear) may stop by. You see, if rest is woven into the fabric of our very selves, then Sabbath is God's invitation to re-create, dance, celebrate, enjoy, take pleasure in, absorb the gift of life. An invitation to live--to enter into, to be present in--this life, without the need to complete the list for the life yet to be.
I'm so worked up, I've already forgotten number three. So at dinner I asked for family input. Any ideas about being so focused on our bucket list we miss the moment? "Pass the blackberry cobbler," my son said. At least I tried.
Later that night, Zach brought me the book The Three Questions by Leo Tolstoy. "Here Dad, this might help." In the rewrite by John Muth, a boy named Nikolai thought that if he only knew the answers to three questions, he would never stray in any matter.
What is the best time to do each thing?
Who are the most important people to work with?
What is the most important thing (the right thing) to do at all times?
In Tolstoy's version the emperor issued a decree throughout his kingdom announcing that whoever could answer these questions would receive a great reward. Many who read the decree made their way to the palace at once, each person with a different answer. The hermit stood up and looked at the emperor. "But your questions have already been answered."
"How's that?" the emperor asked, puzzled.
"Yesterday, if you had not taken pity on my age and given me a hand with digging these beds, you would have been attacked by that man on your way home. Then you would have deeply regretted not staying with me. Therefore the most important time was the time you were digging in the beds, the most important person was myself, and the most important pursuit was to help me. Later, when the wounded man ran up here, the most important time was the time you spent dressing his wound, for if you had not cared for him he would have died and you would have lost the chance to be reconciled with him. Likewise, he was the most important person, and the most important pursuit was taking care of his wound. Remember that there is only one important time and it is Now. The most important person is always the person with whom you are, who is right before you. The most important pursuit is making that person, the one standing at your side, happy, for that alone is the pursuit of life."
Oh, I just remembered number three: So I go to my garden, I pull a few weeds, I plant a few seeds, and hope that God causes ripples. Maybe that will open one of my blinds.
Today, like every other day,
we wake up empty and frightened.
Don't open the door to the study and begin reading.
Take down a musical instrument.
Let the beauty we love be what we do.
There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground.
Rumi
Eugene's parents would make him take Sister Lychen a plate of cookies, and when he'd get to her house, he would find all the blinds down, and all the shutters closed. Old Sister Lychen lived in a house of gloom. She was waiting to die. In his book, Christ Plays in Ten Thousand Places, Eugene Peterson writes that Sister Lychen represents a brand of Christian faith where life here and now is just a trial, so that life can really start in heaven. You know, someday.
Eugene had a fantasy of bursting into Sister Lychen's house, opening all the window blinds, and saying, "Sister Lychen, look! There's a whole world outside! There's a world of turtles and hummingbirds and hawks and grizzly bears."
I guess we all have some shutters or blinds somewhere in our mental house. It's our way of waiting for someday.
"When you coming home, dad?" "I don't know when, But we'll get together then. You know we'll have a good time then."
I'm waiting for my real life to begin.
Lord knows that there's a plethora of cheerleaders with can't miss advice or products about living in the present moment. I was lured by the website WhyWaitLiveNow, which not only assured me that I earn an extra $10,000, but backed it up with a convincing picture of an eye-catching woman enjoying life on a hammock. They were so convinced that I was worthy of living life now, they wanted me to send in some money as a sign of my commitment. Now those are some big hearted people.
There's also a fair number of people who truck in the business of nursing regret, as if self-pity is an adequate fuel for getting through the day. Like the psychologist who told his patient, "I've been treating you for years about feeling guilty. And you tell me you still feel it. You should be ashamed of yourself."
More than ever, there are plenty of people who find great motivation in lists, and will give me a list of things I need to do to find inner peace and life in the moment. Sort of like the recent movie Bucket List. That list of things we want (or need or feel compelled) to do before we die.
I saw a book called 10,000 things to do before you die. I had just started my own list, with only three things on it, so the number 10,000 made me a little dizzy. So I did what was needed to be done: I sat down on the back patio and watched my cat play in the stream, doing his darndest to catch the new tadpoles, apparently unaware of any pressure about a list of things to complete before cat heaven. While he's at play, I'll sitting mouth agape because a Kingfisher honors us with his presence and charisma--this elusive, noble and elegant bird, parking himself on a limb near the pond, hoping for lunch. Nothing struck his fancy, so after ten minutes or so, he moved on. I guess the good news is that for a chunk of time I didn't care one whit about any list to check off that would make my life complete.
The hitch in our giddy-up is that we're wired to consume, add on, scurry and expand. Like the rich man in Luke's Gospel, "What shall I do? I have no place to store my crops. I will tear down my barns and build bigger ones, and there I will store all my grain and my goods. And I'll say to myself, "You have plenty of good things laid up for many years. Take life easy; eat, drink and be merry." When the goal of living in the present is just another conquest (what we attain, buy, achieve), we are like (to borrow from Meister Eckhart) a man riding an ox looking for an ox to ride.
But hey, if you're a list maker, more power to you. Just don't make it so heavy it weighs you down.
I guess if push came to shove, I could make a list with three things.
One. Practice the prayer suggested by a Buddhist monk, "If I should wake before I die."
Two. Have a Sabbath Moment. Sit still and let the other stuff go. If you're lucky, a Kingfisher (or turtle or hummingbird or hawk or grizzly bear) may stop by. You see, if rest is woven into the fabric of our very selves, then Sabbath is God's invitation to re-create, dance, celebrate, enjoy, take pleasure in, absorb the gift of life. An invitation to live--to enter into, to be present in--this life, without the need to complete the list for the life yet to be.
I'm so worked up, I've already forgotten number three. So at dinner I asked for family input. Any ideas about being so focused on our bucket list we miss the moment? "Pass the blackberry cobbler," my son said. At least I tried.
Later that night, Zach brought me the book The Three Questions by Leo Tolstoy. "Here Dad, this might help." In the rewrite by John Muth, a boy named Nikolai thought that if he only knew the answers to three questions, he would never stray in any matter.
What is the best time to do each thing?
Who are the most important people to work with?
What is the most important thing (the right thing) to do at all times?
In Tolstoy's version the emperor issued a decree throughout his kingdom announcing that whoever could answer these questions would receive a great reward. Many who read the decree made their way to the palace at once, each person with a different answer. The hermit stood up and looked at the emperor. "But your questions have already been answered."
"How's that?" the emperor asked, puzzled.
"Yesterday, if you had not taken pity on my age and given me a hand with digging these beds, you would have been attacked by that man on your way home. Then you would have deeply regretted not staying with me. Therefore the most important time was the time you were digging in the beds, the most important person was myself, and the most important pursuit was to help me. Later, when the wounded man ran up here, the most important time was the time you spent dressing his wound, for if you had not cared for him he would have died and you would have lost the chance to be reconciled with him. Likewise, he was the most important person, and the most important pursuit was taking care of his wound. Remember that there is only one important time and it is Now. The most important person is always the person with whom you are, who is right before you. The most important pursuit is making that person, the one standing at your side, happy, for that alone is the pursuit of life."
Oh, I just remembered number three: So I go to my garden, I pull a few weeds, I plant a few seeds, and hope that God causes ripples. Maybe that will open one of my blinds.
Today, like every other day,
we wake up empty and frightened.
Don't open the door to the study and begin reading.
Take down a musical instrument.
Let the beauty we love be what we do.
There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground.
Rumi
Poems / Prayers
Someday Never Comes
First thing I remember was askin papa, why? ,
For there were many things I didn't know.
And daddy always smiled; took me by the hand,
Sayin, someday you'll understand.
Well, I'm here to tell you now each and every mothers son
You better learn it fast; you better learn it young,
cause, someday never comes.
Well, time and tears went by and I collected dust,
For there were many things I didn't know.
When daddy went away, he said, try to be a man,
And, someday you'll understand.
And then, one day in April, I wasn't even there,
For there were many things I didn't know.
A son was born to me; mama held his hand,
Sayin someday you'll understand.
Think it was September, the year I went away,
For there were many things I didn't know.
And I still see him standing, trying to be a man;
I said, someday you'll understand.
Credence Clearwater Revival
The Cat's in the Cradle
A child arrived just the other day,
He came to the world in the usual way.
But there were planes to catch, and bills to pay.
He learned to walk while I was away.
And he was talking 'fore I knew it, and as he grew,
He'd say, "I'm gonna be like you, dad.
You know I'm gonna be like you."
And the cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon,
Little boy blue and the man in the moon.
"When you coming home, dad?" "I don't know when,
But we'll get together then.
You know we'll have a good time then."
Harry Chapin
Come, Holy Spirit,
Help me to replace the busyness of my life
with a simpler lifestyle, so
I will focus on "the deeper things" in life
and allow time for others.
Nourish my yearnings to understand and to appreciate myself;
keep me from being too self-oriented and unmindful of other's needs.
Fill me with trust in your consoling presence.
Calm me when I am anxious and troubled about many things.
Help me to have the courage to empty myself of everything that does not contribute to the transformation of the world.
Continue to create a deep hunger for you within me.
Feed me with "the finest wheat" of your joy, peace and love.
Often replenish my weary spirit with an
enthusiasm and energy that
comes from surrendering my life to you.
Be my wisdom as I search for meaning in a
world fraught with pain,
suffering, hostility, and division.
Keep me hungry for you, Source of Life, so
that I will always ache
and yearn a bit for you.
Joyce Rupp (Out of the Ordinary)
Peace,
Terry Hershey
