Tag Archives: Thomas Merton

Working on keeping my house in order

The major ethical advance of this century, according to Thomas Merton, has been the development of the ecological conscience. Ecology derives from the Greek word for “house.” Ecology is a study of the interrelationships within our environment, both internal and external. Basically, it is the matter of keeping our house in order. We have littered and polluted and dirtied our house over the past century; now we are trying to put it in order. The same ecological conscience applies to the house that is our body.

In raising our awareness toward what technology is doing to our environment, we ignore what technology is doing to our inner environment. The indifference and arrogance we have expressed toward our natural resources, we are still expressing by abusing our personal resources– psychological and spiritual.

George Sheehan in Chapter 4, On Sleeping,
in How To Feel Great 24 Hours A Day

Sheehan goes on to mention what former California Governor Jerry Brown says on the stewardship we have been given for the earth. Sheehan says that “we have the same responsibility to care for our bodies and our minds…” One way to do that is to listen to the circadian rhythms, to be lived, to “be acted out so that each of us gets the most out of the bodies we inhabit.” By the end of the chapter, he concludes that we need to listen to what our body clocks are telling us: the cliche “early to bed, early to rise…” again is here.

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This morning, while I made it up up at 5:30, by 8 a.m., I was back in bed, thanks to a debilitating allergy headache and not out on Sand Run Falls Trail as planned. My own circadian rhythm was thrown off with a couple of short naps throughout the day, thanks to headaches that just stopped me in my tracks, even with pain killers. However, tonight, when it looked light it might rain (although, of course, it didn’t), I went to the gym instead. Luckily, no conventions on the television sets (no one was there) and I was able to run about 20 minutes on each the treadmill and elliptical. I must have been doing something right, because I was covered in sweat.

Tomorrow: Day of rest, and then run around town on Friday, before long run on Saturday.

Transfiguration: A poem for Thomas Merton

I already shared this poem once back in May, but I’m resharing it oday since it is the Feast of the Transfiguration and later today, I am returning to Mt. Savior as I consider becoming an oblate there. I wrote it in July of 1995 when I spent six weeks living with the monks at Mount Savior Monastery near Pine City, N.Y. near Corning.

Transfiguration

The clouds of unknowing roll over me,
nuclear in their design,
probably like those that carried him,
his spirit out to the Pacific and beyond

the vapor trail I view on the horizon
now. An airliner lifts off, brushes
the cross on the steeple,
the silence into sonic resonances.

Like the SAC bomber that buzzed
across his hermitage’s roof
(its bay doors, the jaws of Apocalypse,
if opened could swallow the countryside).

The same type of bomber that took him
stateside. On Sunday after Mass,
I listen to the blues in the common room,
ponder the irony of lyrics, saints’ fates.

Two poems written at Mt. Saviour Monastery July 1995

In July of 1995, I spent six weeks living with the monks at Mount Savior Monastery near Pine City, N.Y. between Elmira and Corning. I offer these two poems for this week’s Wordsmith Wednesday that I wrote while there:

Transfiguration

The clouds of unknowing roll over me,
nuclear in their design,
probably like those that carried him,
his spirit out to the Pacific and beyond

the vapor trail I view on the horizon
now. An airliner lifts off, brushes
the cross on the steeple,
the silence into sonic resonances.

Like the SAC bomber that buzzed
across his hermitage’s roof
(its bay doors, the jaws of Apocalypse,
if opened could swallow the countryside).

The same type of bomber that took him
stateside. On Sunday after Mass,
I listen to the blues in the common room,
ponder the irony of lyrics, saints’ fates.

Discernment

Squawk from the laurel breaks my psalm-chant.
Expecting a raven, I cross the threshold
of contemplation only to find the unexpected
staring me down just off the four-wheel path.
He paces around the hermitage like the hunter
that he is, telling me to leave him to his prey,
probably the wild turkey clan that hobbled by
earlier. So a fellow brother later tells me.
I do not know that now, think this creature
some manifestation of evil come to interrupt
my prayer. I rebuke him, rattling my beads
at him, warding off his wiles, his deceitful
beauty. Yet he remains, crying, circling me,
vigilant in his torment, testing my motives
for invading his territory, my will to stay.
Later that night I imagine his den underneath
my cot, him scratching at my floorboards.
For now I return to my lectio, his forlorn cry
just a hue of the creation, the eternal now
like temptation, suffering, death. Inescapable.

Thoughts in Solitude

Thoughts in Solitude cover Title: Thoughts in Solitude
Author: Thomas Merton
Pages: 124 pages
Genre: Nonfiction
Count for Year: 7

I picked this book up from our church’s library, because I have read other Merton books, including probably his best-known work The Seven-Storey Mountain, which is his autobiography. That book was one of the main books that helped me consider seriously converting to the Catholic faith, which I did 13 years ago. Since then, I have read other Merton books and always come away from them thinking more deeply about my faith and the world, in general; this book was no different in that regard.

Although written while he was in a monastery and addressed primarily to other monks, Merton posits that solitude is not only for the religious, but also for the laypeople and that we can find solitude in our everyday life. As over the last eight months, I have been undertaking the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius of Loyola, it is something I am learning to be true.

I will leave you with this paragraph from the book, which for the longest time we had on our refrigerator, and which for me captures the spirit of the book:

My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not know the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think that I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. And I know that if I do this, you will lead by the right road though I may know nothing about it. Therefore, I will trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death I will not fear for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face the perils alone.

Final analysis: 9/10. I give it a point off, because occasionally, since written primarily for monks, I didn’t feel as I really could relate. But overall, still a worthwhile book and short too so even if you don’t like it, you won’t feel like you’ve wasted too much time with it.