Saturday Haiku: River Sunset

On this holiday weekend, here is a favorite from my archives...

sometimes a river

encompasses all the world

as the sun goes down

  

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Photo,"Sunset in Alabama"
From "America's Amazon" at Camellia's Cottage blog



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Friday Funnies: Finding Oneself

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Cartoon by Chris Madden



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Thanksgiving Seating Chart

[This post was originally at The Vidalia Onion, November 20, 2016]

For all who are making those Thanksgiving plans...May you find enough Episcopalians to bring sufficient decorum to the holiday table (or at least a détente until the last slice of pumpkin pie is served).

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Cartoon by Andy Marlette, editorial cartoonist for the Pensacola News Journal (and nephew of the late Pulitzer Prize-winning cartoonist Doug Marlette).



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Monday Music: Only You (Alison Moyet)

"All I needed was the love you gave / All I needed for another day," were the lines that grabbed me when I heard it played in the background of the series I am finally watching on Netflix, Once Upon a Time. "Only You," by Vince Clarke, has something of a reggae uplift to it -- a beautiful song of celebration. The song is performed by English pop singer-songwriter, Alison Moyet.

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Saturday Haiku: Wild Geese

wild geese from the north

     who ride the wind and weather

glide the lake with grace

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Photos: Canada geese relaxing at Aldridge Gardens in Hoover, Alabama
Credit: Charles Kinnaird  


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Friday Funnies: Those Saxon Dogs

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Cartoon by Gary Larson, The Far Side



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Jazz and Jack Kerouac (with Steve Allen)

The pioneering broadcast journalist Fred W. Friendly once said, “Television makes so much at its worst, that it can’t afford to do its best.*” Steve Allen, one of the television pioneers working in front of the camera was an exception to Mr. Friendly’s observation, as we see in this television interview he did with Jack Kerouac. 

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* Quoted by Garrison Keillor on The Writer's Almanac, October 30, 2019.



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St Hilda of Whitby

Because her feast day is on my birthday, I always take joy in her remembrance on this day. She encouraged a young poet to sing his songs, and her spirit of encouragement, her "grace-of-being," calls out even today. ~ CK

Image of St. Hilda
from Caedmon's Cross

For Hilda of Whitby

In a simpler time

Of kingdoms and and fiefdoms

When liege lords and princes
Set their boundaries across the land,

Killing one another for the right to rule,

A lady arose

Who called for a higher vision.

She established at Whitby

A spiritual path,

A community of grace

For both men and women

Who sought love and life

Rather than power and death.

Learning was foremost

In a setting where

The arts

The sciences

And sacred texts

Were all studied

And held in high esteem.

Hilda became advisor to kings,

Counselor to bishops,

Encourager of poets,

Mediator in religious controversy.

King Edwin

Bishop Wilfrid

Caedmon

The Synod of Whitby

All give her thanks.

Honored as a saint
By Rome and Canterbury alike,

Followers of Celtic spirituality

Pay their respect

To the Abbess of Whitby.

The hildoceras ammonite*,

Named for the saint from Yorkshire

Connects her name

To eons past.

Thus her grace-of-being

Extends to both past and present

As Hilda of Whitby

Is remembered on this day.

The ruins of the present abbey reputably near the site where Hilda had her first monastery Streonashalh on the headland at Whitby. The present ruins are from an abbey built by the Norman knight Reinfrid in 1070s which was rebuilt in 1220s. (From the Parish Church of St. Wilfrid website)

Hildoceras Bifrons ammonite
Early Jurassic Period

*From Wikipedia: The genus name has been given the name Hildoceras in honour of St. Hilda of Whitby (614-680 AD). Legend has it that this lady was required to found an abbey on the cliffs above Whitby, in the north of England. Finding the site to be infested by snakes (a devilish omen), she prayed to the Lord and the snakes coiled up and were turned to stone. She picked them up and threw them over the cliff, and that is why there are so many ammonite fossils in the rocks below the abbey. The specific name bifrons comes from Bifron, a demon, another name for the Roman god, Janus

For Further Reading: 

• The Journal of Antiquities: Caedmon’s Cross, Whitby, North Yorkshire
• Our Saints and Martyrs: Northern Saints, Saints & Martyrs of our Diocese
• Anglican History Blog: Hilda of Whitby
• St. Wilfrid Church website: St. Hilda

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Monday Music: Sea Image (The Chieftains at the Movies)

One of my favorite songs by the Chieftains was used as the main theme on the soundtrack for the movie The Grey Fox. It is also known as "Sea Image" on The Chieftains 8 album.

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Saturday Haiku: Oak Hill

up on the hillside

among tombstones, still and grey,

oak and maple thrive

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Photo by Charles Kinnaird: Oak Hill Cemetery in Birmingham, Alabama



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Friday Funnies: Celestial Strings

Favorite Recipes: Butternut Squash Lasagna

I am repeating this old favorite because I served it again at our house last week, along with a side of Leseur Very Young English Peas. It is a great fall recipe that is simple and easy to make. I found last year at Winn Dixie Supermarket. In fact it is from their Flavors recipe magazine that is free to WD customers. 

The first time I tried it, the family declared it to be worthy of making again, so it went into my recipe file. We have enjoyed it several times now.

This vegetarian recipe can easily be adapted to vegan, which is the way I prepare it. Instead of heavy cream, I substitute coconut creamer. Since the coconut creamer does not thicken quite the way dairy cream does, I mix up some flour in a little bit of water and gradually add it to thicken it the same way you would thicken a stew. For the Parmesan  cheese, I use Follow Your Heart brand "Dairy Free Parmesan Style Shredded Cheese Alternative." 

Here is the recipe as it appeared in the Winn Dixie Flavors magazine:

Butternut Squash Skillet Lasagna

Preparation time: 15 min.

Cooking time: 40 min.

Serves Four

VEGETARIAN INGREDIENTS:

• 1 small butternut squash (about 1 lb.), peeled, seeded, and cut into ½" pieces
• 2 Tbsp. olive oil
• 1 shallot, finely chopped
• 2 Tbsp. chopped fresh sage
• 2 garlic cloves, finely chopped
• Salt and pepper
• 3 cups vegetable broth
• 1 cup heavy cream
• 10 curly-edged lasagna noodles, broken crosswise into 2"-long pieces
• ½ cup grated Parmesan cheese
• ½ cup walnuts, toasted and chopped coarse

SAUTÉ squash in oil in a large nonstick skillet over medium high until golden brown, 8 to 10 minutes. Stir in shallot, 1 Tbsp. sage, garlic, and ¾ tsp. salt and cook for 30 more seconds.

STIR broth and cream into skillet, bring to a simmer, and cook until slightly thickened, about 5 minutes. Scatter pasta over squash, but do not stir. Cover, reduce heat to low, and simmer, stirring occasionally, until pasta is tender, about 25 minutes.

SPRINKLE with cheese, walnuts, and remaining 1 Tbsp. sage and serve.

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Monday Music: Ashokan Farewell

When I heard this beautiful piece as a theme in Ken Burns' The Civil War series, I thought it was a Civil War-era song. It certainly has that feel of early American music influenced by memories of Irish and English ballads. It is actually a modern work, composed in 1982 by Jay Unger.

I have also learned that there are lyrics to the music, written by Grian MacGregor (see below).

Words by Grian MacGregor
Music by Jay Ungar

The sun is sinking low in the sky above Ashokan.
The pines and the willows know soon we will part.
There’s a whisper in the wind of promises unspoken,
And a love that will always remain in my heart.

My thoughts will return to the sound of your laughter,
The magic of moving as one,
And a time we’ll remember long ever after
The moonlight and music and dancing are done.

Will we climb the hills once more?
Will we walk the woods together?
Will I feel you holding me close once again?
Will every song we’ve sung stay with us forever?
Will you dance in my dreams or my arms until then?

Under the moon the mountains lie sleeping
Over the lake the stars shine.
They wonder if you and I will be keeping
The magic and music, or leave them behind.
©1983 and 1991 by Swinging Door Music-BMI, PO Box 49, Saugerties, NY 12477
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Saturday Haiku: Last Light

distant pastel clouds

reflect the last light of day

tomorrow’s promise

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Photo bu Charles Kinnaird: Dusk at Orange Beach, Alabama



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Friday Funnies: In Meeting Rooms A and B

Creativity and Living the Metaphor

{The following essay was first published in November of 2018 under the title, "On Spiritual Practice, Poetry, and the Inadequacy of Language"


I am currently reading one of the most exciting books I have read in a long time, Sophia: The Hidden Christ of Thomas Merton  by Christopher Pramuk. I found out about the book while I was reading Merton's poem, "Hagia Sophia." The book touches upon many of my own interests. I could try to tell you about it but instead I will refer you to a review of the book by Catholic priest and peace/environmental advocate, John Dear in an article for the National Catholic Reporter, "Living our theology with Merton's feminine image of God." 

The Witness of Abraham Heschel

I recently read a passage in Sophia: The Hidden Christ of Thomas Merton in which the author is quoting Rabbi Abraham Heschel. I found Heschel’s words to ring true from my experience as they may to some of you who are involved in a spiritual practice. The writing is dated in that he uses “man” where current writers would use “humans,” or “humanity,” but he captures very well the moments in prayer when words fail to convey experience. While that concept is nothing new, Heschel takes that experience itself, that state which the spiritual practitioner finds unutterable, and reveals how it can further nurture our being as “the nursery of our soul, the cradle of all our ideas.” 

“In no other act does man experience so often the disparity between the desire for expression and the means of expression as in prayer. The inadequacy of the means at our disposal appears so tangible, so tragic, that one feels it a grace to be able to give oneself up to music, to a tone, to a song, to a chant. The wave of a song carries the soul to heights which utterable meanings can never reach. Such abandonment is no escape, nor an act of being unfaithful to the mind. For the world of unutterable meanings is the nursery of the soul, the cradle of all our ideas. It is not an escape but a return to one’s origins.

“What the word can no longer yield, man achieves through the fullness of his powerlessness. The deeper the need in which one is placed through this powerlessness, the more does man reveal himself in his essence, and himself becomes expression. Prayer is more than communication, and man is more than the word. Should we feel ashamed by our inability to utter what we bear in our hearts? God loves what is left over at the bottom of the heart and cannot be expressed in words…The unutterable surplus of what we feel, the sentiments that we are unable to put into words are our payment in kind to God.”

(From Man’s Quest for God by Abraham Heschel)

The Witness of John Keats 

Along a parallel vein, and somewhat related, I serendipitously came across an essay that speaks of how the poetic imagination can attempt to convey those higher aspects of reality that might otherwise defy description due to the inadequacy of language. The article, “John Keats and the Need for a New Renaissance in Poetry,” addresses trends in poetry and brings to the forefront the difference in Keats’ approach to poetry compared to other Romantic poets such as William Wordsworth.

Wordsworth, for example, was intent upon describing the world that is known through the five senses. He admittedly avoided the abstract. His purpose was to bring the reader into an experience of the beauty of the world, to allow a full appreciation of the experience of being alive. Keats, on the other hand, saw how inadequate mere descriptions of the physical world are, no matter how beautiful the words, in conveying an experience of higher awareness.

Keats’ contribution to poetry was the creative use of metaphor to bring the reader close to those ineffable moments of awareness – those incidents in which we seem to know that something absolutely marvelous is happening around us and to us and with us. He truly brought English poetry to a higher level in his day.

“John Keats and the Need for a New Renaissance in Poetry,” is calling upon modern poets to take a cue from Keats rather than focusing on mere descriptions of life as it is lived. It speaks to the use of language, the limits of language, and how the creative use of language can point the reader to what would otherwise be considered inexpressible higher aspects of reality.

Near the end of the article we find the following passage:

“The most profound creativity emerges from an intense and impassioned feeling that longs to communicate something located deep within one’s soul. It is beyond anything that can be grasped directly through the senses. The process of digging deep into one’s soul, and struggling to bring these passions into this world, to 'name' them, is arguably one of the most difficult challenges any mortal can face. It also parallels the process of discovery any great scientist must go through in order to develop a hypothesis, which the universe will accept.

“For Keats, the imagination was not the mere fancy of a Romantic, and the material world of sense perception was not the defining basis of his poetry. Rather than being concerned with a precise description of the 'real' world, the agency of the creative imagination was the hallowed realm in which a greater Truth about the nature of man and the universe could be captured…”

For those interested in reading this fascinating essay in full, you can find it at https://www.thechainedmuse.com/single-post/2018/10/29/John-Keats-and-the-Need-for-a-New-Renaissance-in-Poetry

Living the Metaphor

If I may make one more attempt to tie these two pieces of writing together, what Heschel is doing in his passage on prayer is that he is making the experience itself a metaphor by which we can lay hold of an intangible experience so that it becomes a means for a higher purpose. Keats demonstrates how the use of metaphor can allow us to find higher meaning in our everyday experience.

In Sophia, Pramuk is using the writings of rabbinical scholar and poet Abraham Heschel, along with the work of poet and Anglican priest John Henry Newman*, to illustrate the path taken by Thomas Merton who was a Trappist monk, scholar, and poet. He explains that these spiritual practitioners, unlike the typical western theologians, make use of poetics to describe a relational spirituality. Pramuk speaks of how poets have made use of metaphor to expand the efficacy of language and thus demonstrates how theology, when taking the poetic approach, can more effectively speak to the ineffable experience.

I would add that Heschel has shown us how the person who gives oneself over to the practice of prayer/meditation can actually become the metaphor that enlightens and enlivens.


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*John Henry Newman was an Anglican priest who later became a Catholic priest and cardinal. In his earlier days as an Anglican priest, he was one of the leaders of the Oxford Movement which sought to restore Catholic liturgy and ritual to the Church of England. Those efforts are still seen today in Anglo-Catholic parishes. He became one of the most important theologians of the 19th century, but may be best remembered by students of literature for his role as poet. 



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Monday Music: Soleo from Sketches of Spain (Miles Davis)

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Saturday Haiku: Strawberry Moon

Here is one from my archives:

ancient cathedral

graced by a full moon above

old souls understand

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Photo: Strawberry moon above Ely Cathedral (from the Ely Cathedral Facebook site)



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All Saints Day: A Roll Call of the Dearly Departed

One of the things I like about All Saints’ Day is that it is a time to call by name those friends and loved ones who have died over the past year. In the liturgy for the All Saints’ Day, the names of those who have died are added to the prayers of the people. Sometimes I see it as a roll call of “that great cloud of witnesses.”

This past year I have lost family, friends, neighbors, and colleagues whose departure leaves a void, an empty space. I could name them all, but instead, ask you to make your own list of those dear to you who are no longer present in this world.

One of my departed friends was Jerry Moye. I was asked to select a poem to read at his funeral. Fortunately, I had a poem that Jerry had written himself which served and an appropriate remembrance at his funeral. The reading below which I presented at his funeral is taken from his church newsletter. He calls it a poem for Easter, but I can see it just as well as a poem for All Saint's Day.

PASTOR’S POEM — FOR EASTER

By Jerry Moye

In the spring of 2004, I took a sabbatical leave & retreat to Wales. During that time I spent a week at the Llangasty Retreat House in central Wales, a quiet place overlooking a lake.  I had been reading some biographies, people with faith and those without. I was stimulated by one person who felt the Christian faith was illusion. I was pushed into a wonderful time of meditation. What is nonsense to one person is great truth to another. The Christ Reality is more than wishful thinking, nonsense that is holy sense if the Holy Spirit is allowed to work.

HOLY NONSENSE

Some say, “It’s all nonsense—

A man rising from the dead,

Walking with strangers down a country road,

Eating fish at seaside with old friends,

Flying off through clouds which hide his face.

Some say, “It’s dangerous nonsense—

Better to face the harshness of death,

Better to expose fanciful myth.

Some say, “It’s understandable nonsense—

Old men and women long for friends passed on,

Chanting choirs hymn their notes of praise,

Questing souls refuse systems closed.

Some say, “It’s beautiful nonsense—

To think there is a love that cannot die,

To think this love is the eternal engine,

Moving within stardust to make a world,

Love interlocking atoms and thoughts,

Love working from life through death to life.

If this be nonsense,

I choose to be a fool,

I shall dance with my Living Lord

And my nonsense song shall be—Alleluia.

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