Dec

12

Many Ivory Mansions


A friend wrote to me the other day asking what I thought of University and government patronage of the arts. “Do you think that art, well, changes when it comes from that system?

Since the 1970s, it’s true that university patronage of the arts has created an insulated cottage industry in which many writers, visual artists, and musicians create art mainly for each other.

Many who are subsidized in this way lack any true connection to larger communities and realities outside the Academy. So, if we care to tune in by reading university journals and visiting university and government sponsored art exhibits and recitals, we may observe art created by artists slouching towards tenure and merit increases, dreaming of more leisure in which they may create even more art.

As a result, a lot of the art that’s produced takes on a paint-by-numbers, going-through-the-motions quality that falls far short of art’s goals to enlighten and entertain.

Art is more vibrant and more necessary when it’s spiritually and intimately connected to communities beyond the Academy, and certainly beyond the government for that matter!

 Weigh in on this topic! Share what you think!

December 12, 2008 | 6 Comments

Dec

10

Happy Or Unhappy Holidays?


A woman I know was happily writing poems and working at a hospital when she was suddenly laid off. Her husband had been laid off a month earlier. Suddenly, she felt that writing poems was a guilty pleasure, something she should only be doing when things were going well!  Another friend reported that she was just beginning a free-lance job for a client when the client phoned to say Stop! She couldn’t afford it. My friend said that had never happened before.A third friend insists on seeing the glass half full rather than half empty. “This is a great time for opportunity! One has to be smart enough to make something new come together!” Who is wrong? Is everyone right? Or? Our economy is in a state of free-fall. Millions of people are out of work, isolated, and many are sadly close to being bereft, out of hope. Of course it can feel awfully cruel, this state we’re in, as we stagger through the holidays.  How many of you feel optimistic, even grateful for these opportunities, however mysterious and vague they may be? I’d love to hear your opinions and stories! Perhaps a little healing can come of sharing! Meanwhile, bless you all as you persevere! Robert 

December 10, 2008 | 6 Comments

Dec

6

AN INVITATION!


Please consider joining me for a workshop at Esalen in beautiful Big Sur next month!  

WRITING & PRAYING POETRY: POEMS IN DAILY

SPIRITUAL PRACTICE

 

Week of January 25-30, 2009

 

Robert McDowell

 

Why is poetry the most common language of devotion

and the richest expression of spiritual practice in prayer,

chant, and song? How can we awaken ourselves to poetry

as the pure sound and shape of the spirit?

 

Together, participants will practice reading, writing, and

using poetry in their daily rituals, aspirations, and

intentions. The workshop will explore poetry’s

sound and language, its rhythms, meters, and

forms, in a reflective writing process that leads to

deeper awareness and daily enjoyment.

 

Participants will experience a wide range of well-

known poems (good and bad) as well as their own work

as they create a treasury of poetry that holds deep, abiding

messages from all historical eras and all religions and

faiths. All levels of writers are welcome!

 

Writing exercises, guided meditations, free writing, sharing

work, and group discussions will help participants create a

practice that integrates poetry into their daily path and spiritual journey. All that’s        

required is your 

December 6, 2008 | 1 Comment

Sep

1

Waking Up in Sixty Seconds


Phil Bolsta’s SIXTY SECONDS: ONE MOMENT CHANGES EVERYTHING, with a Foreword by Caroline Myss, is a wonderful companion to take along on anyone’s spirit journey. The book’s greatest virtues are its crackling brevity and exhilarating inspiration. It’s designed for the breakneck pace of everyday life in western culture, and its design is agreeable and friendly.

 

But what makes the book a stand-out, and star, are the 45 stories of spiritual focusing and awakening by prominent authors, healers, teachers, and business people. Reading the account of Dr. Janis Amatuzio’s life after death encounter during her hospital internship, or the incredible perseverance of Jim MacLaren and Dannion Brinkley, or the poignant, radiant accounts of living with imperiled children by James Autry and Sally Pederson, Frank Deford, and Mike Veeck, made me feel humble, reconnected to all of life, and grateful for my blessings and opportunities to be of service to others in this amazing life.

 

My personal favorites among these incandescent stories also include Donald Schnell’s relationship with a young African-American fellow soldier and Zen practitioner, Toltec teacher Don José Luis’s account of his blindness and restored eyesight, Jean Houston’s effervescent mini-memoir of an awakening in childhood, Caroline Myss’s fascinating relationship with an Indian mystic, and Deepak Chopra’s uplifting revelations during his father’s sacred cremation ritual. And, of course, I’m especially pleased to see the critical role that poetry plays in a healing revelation experienced by Dr. Wayne W. Dyer.

 

All of these stories remind us that we are all connected and not alone, that we need never fear death because where we’re going is beautiful and, well, inevitable! Many stories share common visions, centered peace, and stillness. They are also brimming with companionship and community building. I’m grateful, for instance, to learn about the Twilight Brigade, which assists dying veterans, and the Trent Tucker Non-Profit Organization, which works with young people to shape more positive futures.

 

In every way, Phil Bolsta has put together a great soul-gift! I’m enjoying reading and re-reading it. I’m sharing these stories with friends, and I’m reading them to my children. I cannot recommend the experience of this beautiful book highly enough!  

 

September 1, 2008 | 1 Comment

May

3

On Rev. Wright: Fair Comparisons, and What It Means To Belong to a Church


How does one square condemning the Rev. Wright’s incendiary comments, which should be condemned, with winking at equally divisive, vile comments by clergymen like Jerry Falwell and others who blamed 9/11 on Gays and other “degenerate” elements in society? I haven’t seen an expression of equal outrage that President Bush and Senator McCain continue to court the favor of such clergymen. Why not, do you suppose?

Too much is being made of Senator Obama’s membership in his church. For many years, I belonged to a Catholic diocese in Medford, Oregon. Three priests labored in that vineyard, and they alternated on Sundays delivering the homily (always my favorite part of the service). The oldest priest, however, always harangued us when he spoke. He was all fire and brimstone, promising each of us an everlasting roasting if we didn’t do more to oppose abortion, turn Gays into Straights (or at least shun and isolate them–odd Christ-like values, wouldn’t you say?), and support Family Values.

He made a lot of the members of the congregation uncomfortable, even angry. But none that I know of left the church because of him. I believe none did because, like me, they understood what it means to make a commitment to a church and its community. That community is always larger than one person, even if that person happens to be the face of the church on a given Sunday. A serious community church member understands that there is a much more powerful “face” of the church, and that some of the most important lessons of a spiritual path involve tolerance and forgiveness. 

I would be more inclined to suspect Senator Obama’s character if he had left the church as a result of Rev. Wright’s comments. I respect his position and admire his speech on Race, which we’ll be replaying, teaching, and talking about fifty years from now. With General Powell, I’m taking the wide, long view of this matter, and I’m moving on.

 Robert

www.robertmcdowell.net

May 3, 2008 | Leave a Comment

Mar

24

Gretchen Fletcher’s Poem


Today I’m delighted to share this wonderful poem by Gretchen Fletcher, who send this our way from “snowless Florida.” Gretchen’s “Why I Write Poems” perfectly expresses the isolation, resolve, presence in the moment, and wisdom awareness that the act of writing entails.Enjoy this poem in contemplation! If you are moved to do so, write in and share with us why you write poems.

WHY I WRITE POEMS

I have this vision of ancient poets
hunkered around a pile of kindling,
rubbing words together in the dark,
hoping their friction will bring some heat.
I see a later one strike his flinty phrases
against another’s steel, hoping the spark
of a poem will fly off into the night
because the poets know in their guts that
a cold and lonely world will someday need
to sit around the fire they build and bask
in the warmth and light they create.
Somewhere in the dark I hear a wolf howl,
and I go back to writing my poems.

March 24, 2008 | Leave a Comment

Jan

27

Carol Aronoff’s Poems


Just before dawn over the next seven days, enjoy Venus, Jupiter, and the moon as they line up to visit each other in our eastern sky. It’s a rare celestial moment! Consider the wonders of our universe, the endless teachings and surprises of our blessed lives!

*

            Here are three poems by Hawaiian poet, artist, and caretaker of trees, Carol Aronoff. We can see our own spiritual journeys reflected in the inspiring pools of Carol’s wonderful poems! Visit

http://www.bluedolphinpublishing.com/Cornsilk.html

to find and purchase Carol’s books, which are also available at www.amazon.com.

Winter Offering

 

Under a harsh light moon, trees huddle

together on the cusp of hill, draped in sage

and olive wool to mute the whispering chill.

Even rocks are dressed for winter,

flaunting moss blankets.

 

I wander among silvered leaves, amid silence

so stark, my thoughts are shrill notes

of comic opera. If I could banish them

to a cave where brown bears hibernate,

what would I be left with?

 

My mind stills, as snow not yet fallen;

for a moment there is only space,

radiant joy which warms the cloud-banked

dark with faintest light, a subtle reminder

of sacred ground.

 

I open myself–arms, great wings–

to soften brittle wind that threatens

to upend nests of thrush, send

shivering rose petals to an early death.

Who will read my body as living prayer?

 

*

 

Ocean Voices

 

Some nights, I hear the ocean weeping

out my window, down fern-leafed hill.

Long sighs, followed by sobbing soft

as wind’s murmur at the end of summer.

 

Tears welling up in waves of sorrow

flood tide pools and turtle ponds,

brush shoreline’s cheek leaving streaks

of wet sand and sea-licked rock.

 

When I walk the beach next morning,

wounded are scattered like soldiers

along water’s edge: crabs missing

legs, stones with bullet-sized holes,

 

clams and mussels with only half a shell.

Among bits of brown and green broken glass,

rounded  by the pounding of waves, I find

shipwrecks and the power of solitude.

 

 

Praying for Freedom

 

I wonder sometimes on moonless nights

if I can hitchhike on the prayers

of others when I cannot form my own,

when fear has taken even words

I might have used and wrung from them

a paltry harvest of pears and pomegranate.

 

I know about surrender, the need for trust,

the presence of angels. I can see it in nature,

in the pale-faced beauty of peony so attractive

to bees, the wonder of red-tailed hawk

on the farthest reach of delicate branch,

the lift of heron wing.

 

Petrels and terns plunge into sea dark

without hesitation. Some swallows free fall

to reach their nests in lightless caves.

They don’t waver; they don’t ask themselves,

what if I miss? They are born to fly, to float,

to dive; they are born to let go–just as I am.

January 27, 2008 | Leave a Comment

Dec

31

New Year 2008


New Year 2008

Once again, those of us who are aware of it are blessed with that trick of the calendar, the turning into a new year.

For me, this day—December 31st—is always bittersweet. It’s a day to prepare a special place at the table for my innate Irish melancholia and leanings toward solitude. Going down into the dark places and making friends with the shadows there, I resurface to embrace a good day for reflection and contemplation, a day of stillness, mist shrouding the Cascades, and frost everywhere.

On this day I make time for regrets. I acknowledge words I should have said but didn’t, work I did not complete, or abandoned, or did, just not as well as I should have; people I disappointed, situations I neglected, gifts and dreams I did not properly honor.

On this day I remember the long-dead and those who departed in 2007. I play back the times we had, happy days and other days, and relish the memory-doors in me that still spring open so quickly! I miss Manhattan and County Galway, and the old farm up north in the Willamette Valley, yet I close my eyes and I’m so swiftly transported, walking among the people and animals, the sounds and smells of those places!

Mostly, though, on this day I look around me, right here, and am grateful for so many blessings! I enjoy the company of my beautiful, wise stargazer-partner and my unique, individualist, lovely children. I delight in the rooms of the house I live in, the bird feeders and hummingbirds, and the buzzing, chattering community in the gigantic butterfly bush. I thrill to the challenge, insights, and rewards of my daily spiritual practice, and I savor the work I do, my constant companion.

On this day, I allow myself a little looking ahead, too. I dream of a new year of wider peace and greater understanding and compassion for all. I visualize good health, and health care for everyone. I pray for an end to the madness of policies that encroach on the rights of others, that elevate profit to the status of a god, that incinerate the earth, that crush and trample dreams. I imagine bright days (even when the sun is in hiding) of beneficial work, and unashamed love and passion.

What does this day mean to you, and how do you spend it? 

May all sweetness and blessings be yours!

Robert

December 31, 2007 | 1 Comment

Dec

10

VENUS/MOTHER OF AMERICAN POETRY


Today is the 177th birthday of Emily Dickinson! She was and is as aware and awake as any poet who ever lived. Here is her Poem #1726:

If all the griefs I am to have

Would only come today,

I am so happy I believe

They’d laugh and run away.

 

If all the joys I am to have

Would only come today,

They could not be so big as this

That happens to me now.

Perhaps you’ll pause in your busy day to contemplate the miracle of Emily Dickinson’s life and work! If you feel so inspired, please share a comment or insight or poem with us! Blessings Always,Robert McDowell  

December 10, 2007 | 3 Comments

Nov

14

Patience, patience


Yesterday I was up very early to prepare for a video-interview with a group of eight people back east. I drove into Medford–ten miles from my home–to a prearranged facility, and met Charles Wright in the office where my end of the video-interview would take place.

Charles is a man in his seventies who is affable and earnest. He rather reminded me of the actor James Whitmore about ten years ago. I appreciated that he’d arrived early, as I did, and it appeared that we were ready to go with fifteen minutes to spare. That was good because a representative of the group I was meeting with had stressed punctuality in a brief talk the day before. The group was on a tight schedule and could not afford to run overtime.

At precisely 8:30, the group appeared on screen, and I appeared to them. We smiled, said good morning. I could see myself–how I looked to them–in a box in the righthand corner of my screen. I’ve nevr been keen about seeing myself on TV, and this moment proved no exception. But I quickly put that negative thought where it belonged and entered the meeting, which I’d been looking forward to. My opening comments, though, were greeted with blank looks, then confusion, then mild irritation. Technical difficulties! They could not hear me.

The meeting was scheduled for forty-five minutes. Charles Wright spent the first twenty minutes calling numbers on his cell phone and reading the manual for the tele-video system. A wave of anxiety washed over me, through me. Charles, bless him, was doing his best. Nothing worked, but he was doing his best. A couple of times in those first five minutes, I caught a glimpse of myself on screen. There I was with my arms folded tightly across my chest, a look of exasperation on my face. A minute later I was grimacing.

What a marvelous opportunity for practice! Was I feeling anger? Frustration? Yes! But why? Did anger and frustration fix the problem? Did they make me or anyone else involved feel better? Of course not. Why, then, was I allowing them to take over the experience in that meeting room?

I didn’t have to, and I made a choice not to. Observing myself in the split screen, I made myself smile and uncrossed my arms. I watched Charles’s futility as he continued to troubleshoot, and I felt compassion rising in me like tree sap. He was trying! He was doing everything he could think of to make the system work. He was doing his very best. I admired that! Even though he was not successful, I admired his work, his effort. Wouldn’t we all be happier if we could make a daily practice of this?

In the end, we rigged up a telephone interview. No video, but we got our work done. We made necessary adjustments, and I succeeded in not making an earnest man feel awful because initial expectations weren’t met. In a very important way, I’m glad they weren’t.

Have you recently experienced something like this? We’d love to hear about it!

Blessings always,

Robert

November 14, 2007 | Leave a Comment


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