Reflections on 2012 Readings

I made 2012 the year of the Gospels. I divided the year into quarters and studied one Gospel in each of the three-month quarters. I read each Gospel three times, once per month. In the first reading, I read it independently to let the book speak to me, as it stands alone. The second reading, I read it in conjunction with notes, commentary, and aids to deepen the experience. During the third reading, I reflected upon the first two readings allowing the spirit to speak inwardly as I worked towards understanding and meaning.

I learned much about the Gospels as literature, history, narrative, but mostly as books of faith. I attempted to keep my own academic past from intruding on my readings. I strove to approach the Gospels with open and new eyes. In that process, I found much that I had forgotten, much that I needed to learn and a story of Jesus that was new. Removing, as best as possible, the theological and ecclesiastical expectations allowed me to find a Jesus who was out of the ordinary and fresh.

This blog is an attempt to capture my thoughts, insights and reflections upon this new Jesus. My plan is to post two or three times weekly a short reflection upon a Gospel chapter or section. I will try not to lapse into academic jargon or wax philosophical which is my nature but rather to keep the posts reflective and simple.

I welcome comments and questions. I encourage an active readership. 

Guest writer Contributes a Poem: Altar

Altar

               Her trinkets and personal possessions scattered the

tattered chest

                Treasures brought back from her spiritual quest…

                Young Buddha heard the late night drums and the Ying Yang symbol draped her neck as she

wandered amidst songs to Hare Krishna

                Hippy Highway heard the gentle jingles from angels ‘round her ankle and the soothing

incense smells cradled her to sleep.

                And here I am enthralled by the story of her scattered altar

                This sister who I may have passed late at night looking for a warm fire and sweet sounds

of a lilting mandolin

                Who knew my heart was still floating freely in the magical bitter roots and an occasional, “We love you!” chorus

                As I vowed to nestle collected wares from my own spiritual adventure

                So sacred and divine as this carefully traded scarf that once adorned my dreaded hair whispers those memories

                Of the peace I longed for chanted in those rhythmic drums

                And soothing yoga over-looking the expansive valley

                As I delicately place the lotus and energetic rocks upon my tapestry of moons

and stars

                a top my own tattered chest that contently becomes the altar I bow to.

                                                                                                                                                                 

Copyright Heather Corbet 2006

On the Edge

I walk on the edge

of humanity

Masking my insanity

as normalcy.

Not giving in to

the whispering fears

Of voices in my head

            calling out "Don’t Fall."

I respond with a smile

and hold tighter to that edge.

I walk on the edge

of icy cliffs

Clinging with pickax

            as to life itself.

Not giving in to

the whispering fears

Of voices in my head

calling out "Don’t Fall."

I respond with a smile

and hold tighter to that edge.

I walk on the edge

of space

Sucking air in a helmet

            as the world spins below.

Not giving in to

the whispering fears

Of voices in my head

            calling out "Don’t Fall."

I respond with a smile

and hold tighter to that edge.

I walk on the edge

of words

Expressing without clarity

as I discover my rhythm.

Not giving in to

the whispering fears

Of voices in my head

calling out "Don’t Fall."

I respond with a smile

and release myself over the edge.


Poem is from "One Year in the Mountains"
Copyright David Corbet

Walking the Coast

The coast.

A beach, not the sandy vacation beach of suntans, bikinis and kids with sandcastles.

The beach with the cold water, rough rocks and seagulls that crap on everything and everyone, including the drift wood logs that some poor shmuck keeps trying to turn into bonfires. That beach, that coast.

A man walks, no, shuffles along. His feet prints are two long ruts dragged in the sand. Follow those ruts back and you will run out of time before you run out of rut.

On closer inspection it is evident that the man is old, aged, ancient and beyond. He moves one foot and then the other, and again and again and again. It is not a step as much as a plowing the fields, but no corn will grow here. He left the corn far behind and a long time ago. Maybe so long ago that is was not yet corn as we know it in the hundreds of varieties, but rather just the maize of the ancients. That is old, but not nearly as old as this poor individual who shuffles along. But don’t be deceived he is not the poor fool who tries to build bonfires out of water soaked logs. No, he is far wiser then that. He is the one who sees the future and the past and knows the prophecies, not those cheap bible house prophecies about Babylon and dragons and the end of it all with trumpets and hosannas, no the prophecies he knows are far more profound. They are the kind that the Farmers Almanac wishes they had. They are prophecies of knowing those things that no human mind should know. They are knowing the number of rain drops which fall in the Amazon every hour and the number of the grains of sands on the shores, which he is very thoroughly checking at this moment. The corn has been counted, the stars have been counted, the rain has been counted and now the sand will be counted. Good luck, ancient man. We await your verdict with apathy. 

Copyright Protected David Corbet 2012

Red With Delight

The tomato festival was a big hit with the local towns people. Of course they had never seen a tomato before, they had not even seen anything red before and to eat it was a pure satanic delight. For this was the land of the righteous and anything and everything that could be in some way related to the devil was strictly outlawed and abandoned centuries ago, including all shades of the color red. In fact the color wheels in High School art class had only two primaries and one secondary color, the color brown was nearly impossible to duplicate in the class, and orange and purple were relegate to nature alone. (In fact this lead to many disputes in later centuries about the exact nature of brown and some went so far as to hypothesizes a third primary that made orange and purple the two additional secondary colors which were often seen in nature but not in art. This line of reasoning then lead to an ironic twist, because those theorist were often burnt at the stake and as the red and orange flames rose up their feet it all began to make sense, this was one of the few times where fire (and red) were seen as a tool of righteousness and not one of the devil.)

But then one day a traveling sales man, with a surplus of tomatoes to move before they rotted in the trucks and docks of the co-op for which he worked, entered the town. He was a forward thinking and very modern type of man. The girls swooned at the sight of his black bolo hat. Women wanted him and men wanted to be him. He was slicker then a duck in a rain storm and all that other jazz which made him real cool. He could talk a good game and with the Bible in one hand and a plump tomato in another he was able to convince the great, great, great, great decedents of those original pietists that the tomato, although red, was still a creation by God and ordained as good, was great to eat and excellent to have with pasta (which had been rather stale of taste over the last few centuries). It brought much need vitamins and topped out a bacon and lettuce sandwich very well. 

The town nearly rioted because of the color red, some agreed with the salesman and wanted the tomatoes to pour into the town. Other, more zealous of tradition and right thinking and all that, people refused and wanted to run the man out of town. The frosting on the cake was the fact that a tomato began as green and turned yellow and then red by the rays of the sun. Here was the symbolic making of a theological shift. The trinity of colors of blue and yellow making green combined with the sun, the son, the light, the warmth of the heavens poured out to create this jewel. But others saw a different symbol, a crafty snake offering a tempting but forbidden fruit. The symbolism, either way, was too much. All wanted to partake. For to err, to fall, is human. It is the nature of the creature, even centuries of right living could not breed out the fact that humanity craved the passion of life, that which was forbidden. Now the full circle was complete: peace, warmth and passion; blue, yellow and red; the trinity was completed and every range of emotion and every shade of color became available to this imagine-less town. Riot was subdued but passion to created, to flourish, to build, to spring forth, was unleashed and the tomato festival captured that very essence. 

Copyright 2012 David Corbet

New Works, nearly complete.

                                                        Abstract Thirtythree
                                                 Oil and Acrylic on Canvas 14x14

                                                         Abstract Thirtysix
                                                   Acrylic on Canvas 24x36

                                                      Masks
                                                  Acrylic on Canvas 36x48

All Works Copyright 2012 David Corbet

And Later

The quiet of the morning washed over the scene. A light blue sky above, a deep blue lake below and there stood a man on the lake shore.

He gathered a net into his strong arms and walked into the cool water. This was his favorite time of the day. Far out on the lake a few fishing boats dotted the surface. Like a whisper he could hear snippets of conversation. He could imagine the idle chatter or the rough commands drifting from boat to boat as they searched out the best spots.

He smiled inwardly, thinking of a different boat, a different day completely unlike this one. That stormy day he walked on water, however brief it was. His smile turned down as a tear slid slowly from his eye. Fear sank him that day.

With a practiced motion he flung the net into the shallow water. He enjoyed the pull on his back and shoulders. The net settled and slowly he gathered it in. The tension in his arms and chest made him feel alive. Another thought flooded his mind. Once again it was about Him. He shrugged it off, shaking his head to clear it of unwanted thoughts. He gathered the net for another throw.

Throw after throw, it soothed his mind and worked his body. But it did little for his troubled soul. He was anguished, perplexed, confused but most of all he was ashamed. The repetitive motion gave his body work and his mind space to think.

The sun was beginning to warm his back and hunger gnawed his stomach but he was not yet ready to turn and face the world. This place, this peace, the comfort of the net and cool of the water was what he needed most. It had been too long since life was simple and he knew deep down inside that those days were gone. They fled away when he first relinquished his net to follow Him.

I will make you fishers of men.

The methodical movement of tossing and drawing back was meditative. He had no intention of catching fish. He just needed to clear his mind. His thoughts wandered over the drama, the power, the humor of the last so many months. Had it been that long, it seemed so much longer.

A shadow of a man, and the quiet splashing of someone walking in the shallows behind him brought him back to reality. It could only be one person. He sighed and straightened his back pushing his shoulders back and allowing the net to droop in the water. He was not yet ready to face reality so he did not turn.

“Hey” He said.

“Hey” the man responded. His voice confirmed his identity. His brother.

They stood in silence watching the boats move about looking for their morning catch. Sunlight glistened on the water. It would be a hot one again.

“You’ve seen too much to turn away now.” The brother stated simply. “We all have.”

“I betrayed him.” He responded.

“We all did.” The brother answered sympathetically. It was not the right thing to say even if it was true. “He forgave you.”

Feed My sheep

The voice still echoed in his head as he cast the net again. He remembered the last time he had cast a net. The catch was more than he could haul in alone. “Do you remember the first day?”

“Of course I do.” The brother answered and stepped forward to help gather the net in. They cast it together in practiced rhythm. They had worked their whole lives together side by side. And they followed Him side by side, from the first day to the last.

Eventually they stopped, the moment gone. “I don’t know why. That will be what they all ask. Why?”

“Brother, thinking has never been your strong point. You are a man of action. You always have been. What did he say to you? ‘Feed my sheep?’ I think that is more than enough. He knows you. And more than that you have an intuition, a spirit of knowing. You were the first to see Him for who He truly is. Those two things are more than enough.” They sat in silence watching the boats and the sun playing on the water. “I will follow you. But we have seen too much to turn away.”

He fingered the net, thinking. Why. It was a question with no answer. Each one has to find their own answers to that question. But feed His sheep, that was something that could be done. And he knew it would be up to him to do it. He would not, could not betray him again. He would accomplish at least that much. Tell the story of His life and care for all those that he could.

“Catchers of men.” He whispered.

“What?” the brother asked.

 “Remember. Catchers of Men." He picked up the net and turned back towards the shore. The world was waiting. It was not going away no matter how many times he cast his net. “Come brother we have work to do. The net we cast is for Him and we catch the hearts and souls of men.”

They walked out of the water, uncertain in mind but firm in faith.  Fear would not sink him this time. When they ask why, the best answer he could give would be “because” and tell the story of His life and death.

The Sword

Sword

The sword hacked at the shield.

The broadsword hacked at the bronze shield.

The iron broadsword with a leather handle hacked at the bronze shield incrusted with diamonds.

The iron broadsword with a leather handle which was wielded by a north’s man hacked at the bronze shield incrusted with diamonds held a loft by the priest’s assistant.

The iron broadsword with a leather handle which was wielded by a north’s man hacked at the bronze ceremonial shield incrusted with diamonds held a loft by the priest’s assistant attempting to save the life of the head priest.

The iron broadsword with a leather and turquoise handle, which was wielded by a north’s man hacked at the bronze ceremonial shield incrusted with diamonds held a loft by the high priest’s assistant who was attempting to save the life of his master who wore the blood red robes of the high priest.

The iron broadsword with a leather and turquoise handle, which was wielded by the north’s man hacked at the bronze ceremonial shield incrusted with diamonds held a loft by the frightened priest’s assistant who was attempting to save the life of his master who wore the blood red robes of the high priest and carried the sacred golden scepter.

The iron broadsword with a leather and turquoise handle, which was wielded by the north’s man, hacked at the bronze ceremonial shield incrusted with diamonds held a loft by a frightened boy-servant who was attempting to save the life of his master who wore the blood-red robes of the high priest and carried the sacred golden scepter which was the ultimate desire that drove the barbarian onwards with ever increasing blows.

Why this scepter? For the gold alone? Does it have special powers? Is it sacred also to the north’s man? How many others has he killed in this pursuit? Will he be happy with just the scepter or will he want the golden lamp stands and the silver chalice? Ultimately does it matter? Where is your soul

Copyright Reserved

David Corbet

Selenethysia

Monthly the moon is sacrificed as it moves through it's cycle. And yet it is reborn just as the spring is reborn from the dead of winter and once again the flowers bloom: red for the blood of the sacrifice and purple for the royalty of the heavens.

Epiphany

Epiphany is the time when the three wise men came and gave gifts to the Messiah. It is the origin of gift giving at the Christmas time. Some forms of Christianity still practice the giving of gifts on January 6th, instead of on Christmas day. It is an interesting story nestled in the second chapter of Matthew.
The Greek for the “wise men” is “magoi apo anatolon.” Literally it translates: magi from where the stars rise. The word “anatolon” which is often translated as “the east” is used repeatedly in reference to the rising of the star which the magi are following to find the Messiah. The Magi from the east saw the star in the east and followed it. The word anatolon has both the connotation of “rising” and “east.” Stars rise in the east and set in the west. Anatolon serves both as a geographical location and an action. The magi from the anatolon are searching for the Messiah by following the star’s anatolon. This is their realm of knowledge, expertise and location. They are successful in their venture and find the Messiah.

Are the Magi magicians, scientists of the day, crackpots, or representatives of other faiths? All of those scenarios have been presented in the literature at one time or another. Not much is known about whom these individuals are; who or what they represent exactly. The biblical account is silent. Christian tradition has assigned them names and places of honor. And the general designation of “wise men”, which may in light of the silence be the best designation, leaves much to the imagination. They were not questioned by the local authorities but rather accepted as valid emissaries on a mission. When they arrive at the side of the Messiah they are not questioned by the mother Mary but accepted.

What is the point of the story? This story only appears in the Gospel of Matthew. This gospel is largely concerned with proving that Jesus is the Messiah. The first chapter is devoted to two themes, first, to the lineage of Jesus back to the King David and the founder of Judaism ,Abraham; and second, to the miracle conception of the Messiah. The second chapter shows the secular rulers rejection of the “King of the Jews” but the acceptance of the “King of the Jews” by the “wise men.” The second chapter also shows an “exodus” event not unlike that of Israel in the time of their beginnings.
So what is the point of the story of the Magi?

Wandering

The following is an excerpt from a document called, "Million Words." It is where I let my mind wander and fingers flow. It is were I practice my art of the wordsmithing. Someday I will write a million words (I am only around a few hundred thousand so far.) And so I share with you a walk down a rabbit trail.

______________
(Written Before 02/15/2008)

I stood staring at my keys, forgetting what I was doing. Move ahead it will all come back to you. Look like you have purpose and keep moving. It does not matter where, just move, decide. Fool those staring at you. Keep acting with purpose. Why do I have my keys out?

Oh yeah going home at the end of the day. But to what home… I am lost in a sea of humanity and cannot find my mind. I am lost, completely alone and all that I put my hand to turns to rubbish. I am lost and alone; I am the existential dilemma incarnate.

I walk to and fro upon the streets and some think I am a beggar, others think I am a directed and confident soul. Some ignore me as I walk by and others are disgusted at my stench. Each breath is putrid rot and I enjoy the taste of the bile in my throat. Will they see my in time to stop?

I put the keys down on the counter as I enter the door. I put the bags of mass produced food like substance on the floor, perhaps the dog will put them away, or shall I? How did I get home? When I turn off my brain, my body can move on automatic and get me through the day. But when I turn it on, all that I see is kaleidoscopically and chaotically churning colors before my mind and I want to jump in and swim in those magical colors, but I fear I will drown. And so I snack every thirty minutes to give my self an excuse to not go insane. “Must wait thirty minutes after eating before you can swim,” is my mantra to sanity.

Why should I hold so dearly to my sanity when it is obvious no one else does?
Why do I have to pretend to be sane when it would be so much easier to be myself?
Ah, liberation of the artist’s soul!!!

Growing Strong

Growth has always been a viable metaphor for the spiritual life. If it is the growth of a plant from seed to tree or of a child moving towards adulthood, the idea of growth has always been applicable to the spiritual life. I have a nine year old daughter and a ten month old baby boy. Both of them are at completely different developmental stages, and yet someday they will both be adults. The spiritual life is much the same way. We may be just beginning the growth cycle of a spiritually maturing being or we may be well on our way. Either way the steps of development may be similar for all of us, just like childhood development is similar for all children. Here it is important to make a distinction. I say it is “similar” for all children; for everyone develops and matures along their own lines becoming a diverse group of adults. The spiritual life follows suit. We learn to pray, but our prayers will be different; we learn to serve, but choose different ways to be servants in life. There is a similarity to growth which creates a united community in shared commonalities, but our differences foster diverse communities.

The point I would like to move towards is that growth brings change and maturity which include new challenges. My nine year old knows how to walk, my ten month old will learn that skill in the next few months. My nine year old does not need to relearn that skill, she knows it and can move towards the next challenges of running or biking. Spiritually speaking, growth is similar. Once we learn a spiritual skill, we don’t have to keep going back and relearning it. It is time to put that skill to use, to develop it further and allow it to lead to other challenges where we need to grow. If you have mastered the discipline of prayer as intercession, then perhaps it is time to explore prayer as meditation or discernment. If you have mastered serving as an usher, perhaps it is time to challenge yourself to serve as a reader.

A good place to start is knowing where you are. Take some time to make an inventory of your spiritual skills. Ask the following questions: How am I using these skills for my community? How can I further these skills as I grow? What challenges in growth am I facing now?

Another exciting exercise is to create a spiritual autobiography where you can track your growth in the spirit. Make sure you list special moments such as baptism, confirmation, reaffirmation retreats or service projects, that have had an impact on your spiritual life. This autobiography can then be used as a tool to see trends, movements and growth in your own spiritual life. Perhaps it will open you to see ways in which you have been moving that you did not recognize before.

Faith and Doubting

There is a difference between doubting and pushing back against faith. Doubting is questioning the evidence and waiting for more proof before believing. Pushing against faith is when one knows what to believe and when to believe but refuses to do so. Doubting is healthy in creating strong mature faith that is built on solid reasoning and belief. Pushing against faith is creating the illusion of doubt to persist in holding back from belief even if it means the slow decay of the soul and spirit. Doubting leads to faith, pushing against faith leads to despair.

I have always been a skeptic, holding off from making a decision believing that tomorrow more evidence may present itself to persuade me one way or the other. Although that is a healthy way to approach a subject until one has a grasp of the main themes and is ready to proceed towards a conclusion, it is not a healthy way to live. Eventually one must decide. Not that one has to give up questioning or searching, but one must begin to narrow down the searching by choosing a course of action which by its nature begins to exclude other courses of actions. It is hard to live if one is not being committed. You can only half-ass life so long until it catches you. Calling it skepticism or even searching only holds so much water.

So when I bring these two tenets together I see in myself the fear to commit because of my proclivity toward skepticism which I call doubt but in reality is pushing against faith. I can no longer live that way but must commit to a course of living. And along this path I will find many more questions to search out the meaning towards. Having faith is not giving up thinking. Having faith is not blind belief. Having faith is accepting what you know in your heart to be true, even when your mind wants to ask that next question or is waiting for that next bit of evidence.

Human totality

I believe that humans are made up of three parts: the body, the psyche, and the spirit. Each part is essential to a fully functioning human. Each part must therefore be understood and developed. Often a culture or religion will highlight one of the three aspects to the detriment of the other two. Let us look briefly to see how a human is created from these three aspects.

The body is the physical aspect of the human, the flesh and blood. It is the vessel where the psyche and spirit meet. But it is not just an empty vessel. It is essential to the totality of the human. Bodies come in all shapes and sizes and in all modes of health. But there is also a baseline that must be achieved to be human. Once that baseline is met then healthiness can flow out of it. But for many it is a strive just to maintain the baseline and health is far away. Or once a little health is achieved, then it is an easy slide back down. The body is greatly affected by the psyche and the spirit. To achieve health in its truest form, harmony and balance must be sought.

The psyche is Greek for soul. But I have found the psyche is more than just the soul of the person it is also the mind of the person. We will see how this duality is created a little further on. The psyche is the emotional and mental state of the person. It is how one processes the outside world into inward feeling. But it is also the person's character, personality and will. If one is convinced mentally of a sickness or defect, then it is sure to materialize physically. The body will follow the psyche into sickness, but also into health. That is, if health is rightly understood.

The spirit is that part of the human that connects us with the divine, but not just a religious concept of God, but to the energy that is in everything and flows through everything. The spirit is what makes us part of nature. It is the connecting and entangling principles just now being discovered in the areas of quantum physics. It is a force that has limited understanding because science denies it, and religion confuses it with the soul and muddles the idea with theological limitations.

But now to put the pieces together. Think of the three aspects as three triangles, each slightly over lapping another to create a larger triangle. Where the body and the psyche meet you arrive at the mind. Where the psyche and the spirit meet you arrive at the soul. Where the spirit and the body meet you arrive at the quanta (or divine).

So it becomes obvious how all the parts fit to make the whole person. And health is the balance and harmony of the parts working together. Health is not just the absence of sickness, but it is the smooth running and flowing of the parts to create more than just the individual aspects. There are always hiccups and breakdowns, but to have the ability and wisdom to find where the "sickness" originated puts one in the place to restore the balance necessary for health. It is simple, but also very complex. It takes awareness of the self in all three aspects, but it also takes awareness of the awareness, stepping back a step to look at the totality of your being. That is the complexity. Diligence and discipline help us to enact the steps required to restore the proper balance. In essence, could this be quite simple?

Happy New Year

Well another year is gone and another has come. But is today any different than yesterday? I suppose it is as good a time as any to make some changes to your life routines. It is a tradition to set some resolutions, but that is one tradition which I don't always participate in. Why? Because I am not any more likely to stick with resolutions because it is the first of the year than if it was the third month of the year. I guess what I am saying is... when you are ready to change your life to reflect that which you want your life to truly look like, then you will make those changes regardless of the calender. So use this first of the year as a catalyst if you must or use your own desire to shape and change your future and life to find fulfillment, whatever it takes. Just reach out for those hopes and dreams and make progress at finding happiness in everyday living.

Daav Corbet

The Idea of Art

When the first human picked up a piece of charcoal from the fire pit and began to scratch marks onto the rocks nearby, art was born. And from that moment to this day the idea of art has been debated. What is art? How does art differ from craft, from trade? What meaning should be given to art? Does meaning reside in the artist or the audience? When art becomes utilitarian does it stop being art? As is obvious the questions concerning art can be endless (also boring, unless you are a philosopher or artist). I believe that there are no clear cut answers. I think each artist, each participant, each audience member has to search their own spirits for the answers to the questions concerning the idea of art. But the real shame is that few people really earnestly search their hearts for answers that they hold dear. And this apathy towards deep thinking extends to all aspects of life: politics, religion, culture, music, art, food... (again another possibly endless list). It is much easier for many to find a respected leader to follow, then it is to think their own thoughts, develop convictions and hold to them.

And so what is my deep thought on the idea of art? I think art has meaning when it is made by the artist, that meaning may or may not translate to the audience, but the audience will develop their own meaning. My art is spiritual, although I do not require the audience to view it as such. In my art, I search for something that is "more" or "other" than the physical, the mundane. I would like to think that my art holds many meanings and each time it is viewed (meditated upon) one can walk away with new insights. I like to think of painting a piece as a spiritual exercise. I like to thinking of viewing a piece as a spiritual exercise. I know that may seem like much to grasp for... but I feel the same way about nature around me. My mood and attitude which I bring to the viewing can color (emotionally) a painting more than any descriptions or captions by the artist. I would hope that my art can reach out to others in the same manner. But if it does not I am not disappointed. I think of my art as spiritual expressionism.

Perhaps this is a wandering answer to the question, but it is where I am at this point. As my art grows, as my spiritual life grows I am sure my answer will also mature and grow. That is a part of life and a part of thinking deeply: growth into the next phase of life.

Absence

Wow how time flies once you have a new baby. I thought yesterday was July 14th but I look up and two months have speed by. After having a new edition to the family everything changes: priorities, time usage, energy usage, the ability to think... It is very strange, but also very satisfying. Our little boy is the joy (and frustration) of our day. We are adjusting and reorganizing our lives to accommodate the little guy. At times it is difficult, we don't have the time to do the things we want to do (update blogs) and definitely no time to do the things we like to do (go for bike rides or camping). But in time once a new balance is reached things will be better and easier and more enjoyable. So maybe in the near future I will have more time to update my blog and philosophize about life and art and religion and culture and all the things I like to think about. Until then stay tuned for the even more sporadic updates.

Spirit and Matter

The supposed duality of spirit/matter used to be easy to phathom and we may be returning to a time where it will no longer be a problem. Until the 19th century it was assumed that the spirit world existed and in some ways interacted and affected the material world. But as natural philosophers became scientists, alchemists became chemists and universities added science as a course of study besides the humanities, the spiritual world became suspect. If it could not be weighed, measured, or observed then it did not in fact exist. The material realm became supreme and the spiritual realm was to slip quietly away. But then philosophy split again and gave birth to psychology. The study of human emotion and the human mind led down all sorts of crazy paths. Some of those paths died off and others are still walked today. And one of the most probing questions that philosophy and psychology asks is, "What does it mean to be human?" or more exactly, "What is consiousness?" And this question gave birth to neuroscience, the study of the brain. But it is much more then just the study of the physical stuff held in the head, it is also the study of the mind; how that physical stuff makes thoughts, emotions, memories, etc. And that is the turning point. That brings us full circle. In the brain is the mind. In the material universe is the immaterial consciousness. How the brain creates the mind or how the mind creates the brain is still a mystery. There has not yet been found that mechanism that creates, controls or maintains the conscious. We know that we are self aware we just don't know HOW we know we are aware. And if this self evident awareness is immaterial and not prone to the same type of materialist science that brought the supposed death to the spirit, then perhaps it is wrong and the spirit world still exists and still has some effect on us today. Perhaps just as a science of the mind was created, we now need a science of the spirit to explore such things. Not a theology or a religion, but a skeptical (read: objective) approach searching for methods to resolve questions of the spirit. (I believe that if such a science was created there would be great interest in its fellowship with some of the current trends in quantum physics).

First Spiritual Principle

I posted a list of twelve spiritual principles. In this post, I will attempt to add to the first principle:

• The interconnectedness of all things.

Within Eastern philosophy, and Buddhism especially, this is a basic principle. In the west it is a principle that is becoming more accepted through scientific study. In the study of statistics there is a game that is played called the "six degrees of separation." It states that within six moves or associations any two people on the planet can be connected. I know you, who knows so and so, who is connected to what's-his-name, who works with yaya's sister and yaya is the aid to the President of China. The interconnectedness of people. But that is still not quite what this spiritual principle means. In the scientific community, within quantum mechanics in particular, there is a principle called entanglement. It states (oversimplified and therefore much room for error) that when two particles come in contact they can become entangled. And then however one is manipulated the other "entangled" particle shows the same manipulated results. (Take a photon split it into two parts. Polarize one part and the other part, regardless of distance from the one being manipulated, will also take on the same polarization.) Now this is moving closer to the spiritual principle at hand. Take into consideration that everything has come from one event. Therefore, at one time everything was entangled. New energy is not being created or destroyed only changing forms. This brings us to the second spiritual principle. We will return to this idea in another post.

So the first spiritual principle: everything is interconnected. This can be understood physically and yet the world, the cosmos, is so vast that we cannot hold the complete interconnectedness of all things in our head at one time. We cannot see how it is connected. We can only believe that it is. This principle can also be understood metaphysically. God, or the One, or the Power that Is, or Energy, or Fate is moving things into position creating a master plan which is being played out with or without our consent. If we are religious then we have our own views and beliefs about this line of reasoning and where we stand on it. But now the idea of belief comes into play. We each set a burden of proof to our beliefs. Sometimes blind belief is enough (there's no burden of proof, or an authority figure said it so I will believe it). Perhaps the examples above are enough (or they will lead you on your own search either through science: quantum mechanics; or religion and philosophy: Buddhism) and then your burden of proof will be met. Or you may remain skeptical and need further evidence, something that has not yet come to light.

I understand that at this point, things are greatly simplified. But I feel confident that as I move through each principle with deeper explanations clarity will be obtained. So have faith (in that which you believe you can) and keep reading. Please feel free to post questions and comments.