On that which cannot be spoken about

I have a stack of about 15 books next to my bed. All of them are in some or other state of being read. I think a lot of it is to try and find words to articulate some of the things I've experienced lately - to find a way of making sense of them so I can somehow communicate that which has had so much impact on my life. The other reason, I think, is to make sure that I don't forget. And then there's trying to put it all into perspective - where to now?

In the past two weeks, two books really stood out. The one is "Soulcraft" by Bill Plotkin - "crossing into the Mysteries of Nature and Psyche". In this book I came across the following:

True art has nothing to do with impressing or entertaining others with pleasant or stunning creations: it's about carrying what is hidden in the soul as a gift to others. However we embody our souls in the world, that is our art

So how do I embody my soul and what is hidden in it? I think I'm starting to find what that is - but how do I express it? Perhaps it's not about putting it in words, but rather communicating this by being who I am?

The other is one of those rare books that I simply could not put down. Through his honesty in retelling his journey I'm beginning to understand what it means to "carry what is hidden in the soul as a gift to others". This book is a gift. It's called "The Dance of the Four Winds" by Alberto Villoldo - "Secrets of the Inca Medicine Wheel":

...our rationalization of things ephemeral, our intellectual framing of the transcendent, the thinking brain's version of the Divine, was just another mask of God. That all expressions of God, like the word itself, formed in the brain of language, were merely thoughts about that which is beyond thought.
No. Before thought.
Before consciousness itself. To speak the name of God is to name the unnameable, to carry a concept of the Divine within our heads is to carry a shield between us and the experience of the Divine...... It cannot be thought about. All notions of God are blasphemies. Things that can be known but not told.


I'm starting to realise that much of the past few months has been a process of finally putting my theology to death. Letting go of what I think I know, the false security of belief, and stepping out into the wildness of experiencing the Divine. Moving in to the realm of that which cannot be told.

It's funny - when I started this blog I was hoping for an audience so that I could say some of the things I felt were important. Now as I write I feel that the real audience is the person who's typing all of this ;)

Why I cut my hair

For around 16 years I've had long hair and a beard of some description. When I visited Vietnam the people there used to call me Jesu Christu. I've always identified myself as the guy with the long hair and the beard. I guess this was just me. I always felt it suited me and my beard took some of the attention away from my nose, but it was also a good place to hide.

I was on a weekend retreat of sorts a few weeks ago. One of the subjects we spoke about in the morning was on dying and how the Indian warriors used to say "today is a good day to die". I was walking outside afterwards and two of my very good friends called me over and said "today is a good day for a haircut". I of course came up with all the reasons in the world as to why it wasn't such a good idea. They suggested that it was the key to moving forward, and it was the only way I was going to change the way I see myself.

To be honest, I felt angry. What right did they have to pry into my life like that and challenge something that was so much part of who I was? I eventually just walked away and tried to avoid them. But something had been triggered in me and I knew they were right. My reaction to them was a voice I've come to know as my ego - holding on to all it can to survive. I knew it was time, and if I didn't go through with it I would stagnate as a person - stuck in the past and the image I had of myself.
I decided to phone my wife and checked with her how she felt. I could hear that she was unsure - like her husband was becoming a Buddhist monk or something, but as usual she stood by me. Once that was sorted I went to my friend and nervously told her she could cut my hair.

So - there I sat, at her mercy, while my head was shaved. Once it was finished I'm not sure what I felt - but I went down to the sea and washed all the loose hair off, baptising myself. Next was my beard - I wasn't too keen to get it shaved off with my hair, but it looked really silly with short hair so I shaved it off - with just my razor and no shaving cream.

It's now been about 3 weeks with short hair and it’s been very good. It took my daughters a while to get used to their 'new' dad, and my colleagues at work put up a missing poster on the front door. I was also a little nervous going overseas as my passport picture now looked nothing like me. Other than that, I feel a new freedom. Something inside has changed.

I had a look through some old photos and saw a picture of the old me with the 'Jesus' look. I realised with a bit of sadness that this person had died. He was a good guy - but like a caterpillar needs to die to its body in order to learn to fly - I needed to do the same. I’m also really grateful for some really good friends who cared about me enough to see what it was that I needed to do.

Reflections on good friday

“The wind blows where it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So it is with everyone born of the spirit.”

Today is Good Friday. In the Christian religion, this is supposed to be the day when Jesus died. Having come from this tradition and having spent a large part of my life studying theology and teaching about these things, I thought I'd reflect a bit on this.

The typical interpretation of this event is that Jesus died for the sins of the world, that he was the sin bearer, the sacrificial lamb. The usual evangelical Christian interpretation of this event is usually that people are 'sinners' and cannot access God because of this. God then sent his son, Jesus, to die in our place. Now in my early teens this meant a great deal to me, that I could no longer have to worry about whether I would go to 'heaven' or 'hell' when I died because this had now been sorted by 'the blood of the lamb'.

This started to bug me a bit, though, later on in life. Was it God that needed the sacrifice, or was it people that needed a scapegoat? I started thinking that perhaps it was the latter - that it wasn't so much that people needed someone to save them from an angry God, but that people needed ‘saving’ from their own guilt.

This would probably explain why Jesus was able to say to people that they were forgiven long before the crucifixion event. In fact, when you look at it, it was this that started to really piss off the religious people of his day – the fact that he went around telling people they were forgiven. His whole message seemed to be built around this – ‘The kingdom of of God is at hand’ – ie. ‘All the fullness of life is available to you, change the way you think about yourself and believe this good news!’
This has usually been translated “repent and believe the good news” and most often taken to mean “be sorry for your sins” – but I think “repent” is a very bad translation, because it implies penitence, whereas the Greek word ‘metanoia’ means to change your mind.

So – perhaps the message of Jesus was really all about freedom – that God (or The Universe, Life, the Source of all Being) doesn’t have anything against us – so go and live to the full! If there’s anything that you’ve done that you feel prevents you from experiencing this – then sort it out, make amends, but certainly don’t see it as God holding it against you. Be Free!

Now whenever I start talking like amongst religious people I get myself into trouble. If one looks at the life of Jesus - his biggest opposition wasn't 'the devil in the wilderness' but the religious people of the day. This is why they had no choice but to kill him – it was the only way they could nail him down because he didn’t fit into their religious box where they could control him through fear. You can’t control the wind!

So reflecting on today I need to remind myself that this man, Jesus, doesn’t need to be defined by the religion that named itself after him. I also come to the conclusion that I want to live just like he did – so full of life and love for others, and a passion for freeing people from the illusion and lie that we need this or that to be Good. Being born of the spirit of Life – I too want to be like the wind – free and blowing where I please, without religion or guilt weighing me down and preventing me from delighting in this dream we call our lives!

Talking to the trees..

I was involved in some martial arts training in the outdoors recently. There was a young tree near to where I was standing and, without thinking about the feelings of this poor tree, I decided to practice my side thrust kick. Expecting to be able to break the tree without much effort I was amazed that my kick had no impact whatsoever. The tree simply bent over and then sprang right back to where it was before. So I tried again, and again, and the same thing happened. Being rooted firmly into the earth, but at the same time offering no resistance to the force applied to it, the tree was able to carry on living happily while I was wasting my energy trying to kick the thing.

I learnt a lot from this little tree. The first lesson is that kicking trees is generally not such a good idea. Perhaps I was fortunate that this particular tree didn't retaliate.
The other, more important, lesson was this:
Life is full of movement and change- full of stuff that happens that doesn't quite fit into what we think we need to make us happy. We can mutter and complain and resist the inevitable change, either with it breaking us, or generally making us miserable. Or, like the tree, being grounded in the earth and the knowledge that this is how life is, we can be flexible and move with it. Then life becomes less of a struggle for existence and more of a dance..

On Knowledge

One of the startling discoveries I have made recently is that I seem to know where I need to get to and where I'm going in life. Or perhaps I should say I have a sense of knowing. On one hand the past few years have seemed quite isolated (spiritually speaking) as well as being a random collection of various 'experiments' with different ways of thinking, philosophies, religions etc.
Looking back, though, I see a definite pattern. A journey that has been going in the right direction all along, somehow intuitively guided by a force I have come to know as being my Soul. I'm not saying that I'm perfect or have it all together. It's more of a realisation that there has been more happening than I was previously able to see.

I am busy reading Joan Halifax's stunning book "The Fruitful Darkness". In it she makes the following quote by Thich Nhat Hanh:
"Our own life is the instrument with which we experiment with truth"
She then goes on to say:
"the information and inspiration in this book are rooted in my life. This is inevitable, for neither Bhuddism nor shamanism are 'revealed' teachings. Both emphasize direct experience and personal realization over doctrine"

Coming out of a religion of 'revealed' teachings, it's taken a while for me to get my bearings. I guess one could say I've been waiting for the next 'revealed' teaching to come along. Searching in what seemed to be the dark, though, I have somehow found my own way.

I've often reflected on the fact that we know more than we know we know (and it sounds really cool to say that). If I cut myself, I know how to heal myself. Perhaps not intellectually, but I do have that knowlege. I'm starting to think it's the same with spirituality. When we move beyond the illusions of intellectual knowlege and the belief that we are somehow superior in our knowlege to the deep and wild knowlege of the Earth, we start to see ourselves for who we really are - part of Nature and connected in an intimate way to this Ancient Knowlege.

Finding my own rhythm

I must create a system or be enslaved by another man's;
I will not reason and compare: my business is to create (William Blake)

I remember around 20 years ago telling my drum teacher that someone had said that they could tell that he was my teacher. I remember his reply was that if anyone ever said I sounded like him I should take it as an insult - I needed to sound like me. At the time one of my biggest goals was to be able to play like him, so I didn't quite get it, but it obviously stuck because I remember it. I remember one of my students a few years later saying a similar thing - that someone recognised my style in him. I have to be honest and say that it was a bit of an ego boost - but I remembered what I was taught and passed on the wisdom.

A few years ago a famous percussionist was in South Africa. He gave a workshop on drumming and percussion that I was fortunate enough to attend. One of the comments he made really stood out for me. He said something to the tune of a drum being your instrument, and you need have the freedom to express yourself through it. If that means hitting it on the side or the rim to get the sound you want, then you need to have the freedom to do just that.

And so it is in life. For a time we follow a system handed to us by others, but we're eventually faced with a choice as to whether we continue following that system, or whether we take the journey of the Soul and create our own system, finding our own rhythm and the means of expressing that.

All a dream

I went for a walk earlier on today. I often do that during the day to give my mind a chance to breath. I find that I can sit in front of my pc for a certain length of time and be quite productive, but then my mind gets tired - or bored. When I find myself staring at the screen - present in body, but my mind is somewhere else, I know it's time to get up and take a walk around outside.

I usually go the same route - just around the block. While I'm walking I try and focus on the moment, NOW - the only moment there is. Today I found myself feeling like I'd done this all before. Well I had obviously done this all before - many times. Life is full of repetition - driving to work, saying hello to everyone, sitting down at the same place, answering the same questions, going for the same walk. It's like repeating the same dream every night where we know what's going to happen. In fact - it felt like just that - a dream.

So I walked back to the building and as I approached it I knew exactly what I would find - that the secretary would look up and say hello, that the tea lady would be sitting in the kitchen reading a newspaper, and all of my colleagues would have their noses to their screens. Perhaps someone would be talking in the corner. And that is how it was.