A squirrel was on my balcony around seven. I really don’t know how it got there, I imagine it leaped from a nearby beam. The first squirrel to come since the pines came down. In fact, the whole area seemed filled with wildlife. A coyote wandered up the driveway, staring at me as it walked past. I stared back, and asked what it was up to. Ravens, two of them were circling all around, flying fairly close, landing in nearby trees, pecking at the tops of pines, rummaging around in the branches of budding oaks. Birds continued to sing, all types. Now it is night, and the area seems more filled with visitors than normal, enough to make me wonder whether this is a holiday. I don’t think it is.

I am tired now, more tired than I have been at this hour in a while, my mind and body a little weary from exertion, which is a welcomed kind of weary.

Funny thing this writing is, for always, my whole life, I’ve never been able to succesfully write after three in the afternoon. The evening is when I am more social, the morning is when my mind is on fire. I would never even try to write. Yet, here I do. Now, I ‘m not sure if maybe I shouldn’t in fact be writing at this hour, if my mental meanderings make sense. It is a good habit, and maybe this hour is not a time for focus, but it is a time for openness, as if my fingers go to work without conferring with my mind, letting out thoughts and feelings.

Nothing remains in either place tonight, only the continued quest to do what I can, and do that which is before me. This was a weird week, a week in which I shifted somehow, had to wander through some decisions I didn’t know I was making, having to come to terms with that which became overburdensome. It was a week in which a marker made me pause and consider all that is going on, and where it is going. Somehow, even without specifics, I feel like conclusions were reached, insight gained. Only it was not a marker of my maturity. I stumbled along all the way, and feel more of where I should be, than contentment of where I am.

So, I keep on, waiting for my heart to be ‘strangely warmed’, for the door to open, to what I don’t know, only I know it remains to be opened. For years I’ve been hearing ‘wait’, and I don’t know why. But, I do wait.

Some people I know have gotten a bit into the gambling scene. Nothing extreme, no worries on my part, but enough to make points of conversation that I don’t identify with. Gambling has no attraction. The times I’ve been to Vegas I’ve never been tempted to bet on anything, even a slot machine, not because of moral issues, because of interest issues. I’m completely uninterested in it. Now here is why I bring this up. Gambling with cards or in other ways doesn’t have interested because I’m in the middle of the highest stakes a person can gamble with, I’m laying my whole life down there on the table, and trusting the spin to come up my way. More than this, I’m taking what I say I believe, and committting to it, having now left little room to back out. I’m betting on myself, and what God is doing in me, and the stakes are my whole existence. What does the thrill of getting a high hand compare with that?

That’s why I think I’ve no interest in the usual kind of gambling. It bores me, for the stakes with that is just money. Bet a life, bet a life on Life, now that’s a gamble. Faith becomes real, doubt increasingly falls to the wayside, for doubt impedes the progress, takes the heart, makes a person retreat, fills with fear. Not by blindly casting it aside, but by learning to put it in its place, learning to understand faith as it has been taught, faith in the one who has acted. Doubt can exist, to be sure, but it’s also an excuse to do that which we are afraid of doing, to leave safety nets, and so we explain the call on us away by using fancy phrases and well tuned considerations.

No, we, in our depths know it’s all true. That’s what I think. Only we don’t know what it all means, how it is working out, because that requires actions on our part to respond to what we know is true.

If we don’t let ourselves respond, and yet still know what is true, this creates a dissonance which we call doubt. The image of leaping off a cliff over a chasm to another cliff comes to mind. Either one commits or one doesn’t. One gambles on making it, or one turns away. Halfhearted leaping is the most disastrous.

So, I’ve leaped out, come what may. The thing is I’m still in midair right now, I haven’t crossed to the other side. And it is a long jump. We’ll see what happens with it all. It’s too late now to turn back. I hear it is quite lovely on the other side, I look forward to exploring the beauty I find.

I was cold most of the day. Given the heat in the rest of the area, down in the lowlands, I am very happy with the fact. The strong breeze has died down now, the branches are still, the only noise is a dog barking in the distance. I didn’t get outside very much today, only for a few moments, and I regret the fact. Spring is such a lovely time of year, not just for the eyes, for all the senses. The smells are extraordinary, all the scents of the forest raising up. I do see the forest from my window, and sometimes that is all I need, to turn and watch the green, the jays flying acrobatically through small openings between branches, squirrels finding their hidden stashes beneath cedar trees, and then spending a long moment eating. It gets into my soul, and my soul needs it.

This day was just a day. Neither a high or low. I should have spent more time outside I think, that would have been better for me. Though not bad, to be sure. Now, I end the day with little on my mind, other than a tendency to find myself staring. I’m not sleepy really, but my mind seems off, my heart content in silence, my soul not offering any suggestions.

This is not a forum for me to write just to write, it is an exploration of what is pressing. So, when nothing presses, I’m not sure what to say. Ah, well, this says as much about my state as any longer writing does about other aspects. An emptiness, though not a bad one is what I have ending the day. I think I’ll get out on the lake again tomorrow.

I’m also finally making some real progress with my next set of stations… when that is done, in a week or so (maybe earlier), I can finally get back to my fiction. That will be good for my soul.

Interestingly, I’m also seriously considering visiting another church this sunday. I’m not sure if it’s a spiritual quest, or just a fancy to find a place to play my saxophone again. The wind makes for good accompaniment, to be sure, but I think some human camaderie would be a plus. We’ll see. And maybe, just maybe, there’s some kind of spiritual draw as well. Gifts, the Body, and all that.

It is noisy outside. Loud with the wind, blowing strong as it has all the day. Gusts and calm intersperse, a warm day turned cool by the moving air. I love the wind, it makes me wonder. In the middle of tasks, I turn and watch, thinking about the Spirit, watching entranced by the rattling branches. Birds stayed low today, singing songs without flying very much. Coyotes scream with the wind, a science fiction sound, yelping mixing together with an almost electronic edge, sounding almost like voices, announcements over a bad microphone. A branch of an oak scrapes against my roof, squeaking on the shingles.

This was not my most succesful of days, tasks of cleaning and arranging never fill my soul with joy or delight. Tasks I have been wanting done are now done, so it was not a day wasted, though it was a day away from that which fills.

I was thinking today about the Christian life, the calls which we are to heed, the commandments we are to follow. There is nothing higher than to help a neighbor, very little has more import. I consider this because of my own goals and tasks, the inward looking life, which seems to stumble far too often. The outward life, working for and towards others is that which is the highest call. So, how do I justify being here and not there, wherever there might be.

I don’t.

To be honest, I looked, I tried to go outward, to seek to find a place where I could participate in works of goodness. I wasn’t invited to join. I kept looking, offering, suggesting. Then more nothing, until I came here, the only door open, coming here about two months after I really needed to come here.

The inward life is not something to yearn for, I think. We are called to look outward, to help, to assist. Yet, the highest call of all is obedience. For if we are not obedient we help no one. Why did Joseph stay in prison? Why was David in those caves? What kept Patrick praying during the years of slavery, and then the confusion of returning home?

This is not a life which one plans, or should. The inward life, that which the monks call the highest calling, is somewhere a person ends up, finding after a struggle that God wants us for his own, to stop and listen and learn, retreating from the fray for reasons only he knows, and he keeps a firm hand grasping hold to keep one from drifting.

I yearn today to be a part, to have a part, to participate. Not for money, that is not my heart, for the feeling that I am walking rightly, justifying myself to myself, and only then to others. There is a sense of doing which gives far mor measure to the soul than waiting. And yet… we often are called to sit, to wait, to endure not because we wish to, but because that is the way God has for us.

Stopping us, holding us back, keeping us from realizing our potential, so that he can be realized through us. So much of the Christian life as seen now is people using Christian terms for human power, focusing the same skills in a religious direction, pleasing the parishioners rather than the stockholders.

Yet the book of Acts tells us of power beyond power, and tells us the path of holiness. Stop and wait until the Spirit calls, Jesus said.

I wish I was even waiting well. Trapped between what I want and where I am, I find no peace, no glory in either task. I stumble along, bruising and cutting myself, rather than finding my feet walking a steady path.

This is not a path I would recommend, or even honor to very much degree. It results in maturity, maybe, a better finish than beginning, assuring that once started it will go to the end. Yet, I yearn to flash in the moment, to find brightness in the now, to take up that which I tasted and become. The thought stirs and depresses. For it is not within my grasp anymore, and I am glad, for I am where I need to be. Issues unresolved continue to weigh, I find my worth tested in the absence of outside stimulation, forcing myself to stop and stare down inside, and like most every person feeling uncomfortable by what I find.

Part of me thinks I am a sham, a failure couching myself in theological terms, listening to those who think so loud I can hear, “if only he just tried harder.” I write these words, knowing myself, feeling a fake for writing words about God and Light. What do I know?

But with all of this… these doubts which creep in, these pains which ingite within, I consider what it is to climb a mountain, to take steps on a steep path. Going slow is not a sign of weakness, it may be a sign of the terrain.

I don’t know. I do know that this is not a commendable path, certainly not better than the person who works with orphans or is a doctor to the very sick. This is where God has me. For twenty years I’ve prayed that God would lead me, that he would open my eyes and steer my path, and I know that others have been praying the same, some much longer than I have. And this is where I am. Doing what? Writing, living an inward focused life, without merit or purpose to some. Has God ignored my prayers, or is this his answer? Have I misstepped all along, or have I stayed more or less on the right path? That I don’t know. That is why humility is the lesson learned above all others. I can’t even have pride in spiritual service now. There is nothing but looking inward, and helping those who are around now. It is not me, I learn to say, but God in me who guides and leads. Should this turn towards a fruitful life where I gather with others seeking and growing I will know that it is God in me and not me who develops the fruit. And if I do not find any hope resolved, if my debts overwhelm, my education and training go without expression, then I still must say it is God in me who has me wait, to learn the depths which busyness cannot understand, which even good works hinder by changing focus.

No, this isn’t the highest call, the inward life of which the monks rejoice. It is the call on me, now, and I must learn to remain obedient, to rest in the absence, to trust and remain ready to come to real life in an instant. If I learn the secret in the here and now, with nothing to show, with nothing to point towards, it will remain with me the rest of my days. It is around, that which Paul spoke of, which the saints have known, exists still in our era. And so I seek it out, seek it out by staying, by trying to find light, by focusing on the minute and precious details. I wish I was more suited to the task. I guess, though, that is why God has me doing this.

A cool breeze throughout the day kept it from becoming too hot. Though, to be honest, I miss the fifty degree days. Tonight the stars shine bright, I love that I see more of them now, I wasn’t sure it would be worth it. The pines are gone, I thought I would miss them. I don’t really, except for the fact that nary a squirrel has been by since they were cut. Too difficult to get on the balcony.

The cloud of swallows flying above and around me earlier today while on the lake still brings a smile. I was reminded of Hitchcock, of course, only they had not the slightest bit of malevolence. Their little faces peeking out of the mud nests, so well crafted beneath the tower. Then flying out, around and back, a flurry of noise and activity all around. It was a great sight, and peculiar since I was steering for better views in a kayak, in the middle of a lake.

They are the same type of birds who come to San Juan Capistrano every year. Their home here seems to be quite secure, if at times a little noisy from the motor boats pulling skiers every so often.

I realized this today, I’m not sure why. There are different types of people in this world. That’s not the realization. I realized as two motor boats were speeding across the lake, filling the area with their loud noise, going fast, a thrill to be sure. They were missing a great deal of what I was experiencing. For them it was a search for speed, to dominate the lake, to impose themselves upon it and move, loud and quickly. That is one type of person.

I’ve always been attracted to other ways of interaction. Rather than dominate and impose I want to experience the thrill of participation, whether it be through the wind carrying sail, or through the quiet movement of pushing myself through the water, able to feel and experience the nuances of weather and water, hearing only the sounds which nature herself makes.

If given the choice more people would choose to go skiing or open the throttle all the way. Not me, no appeal. Today on the lake I had no interest whatsoever in being on those boats. I can go faster in a car, I suppose. I can’t always glide along the water, feeling the chop underneath, hearing the water splash, running my hands through it as I move along. The only time I felt an interest in something else was when I went by a sailboat, whose owner had left the jib up and flapping in the wind. It was the height of sloppy seamanship, but I loved the sight, and would have loved to raise that main and take the boat out for a bit.

It’s not quite as good exercise, however, so I’ll stick with the kayak.

This says a lot about me, I suppose. I’m not one to feel joy in mechanical noise, or to celebrate conquering nature. I want to learn, to feel the fluidity of it all, to glide in this world as one with the world around.

That is the way of the Spirit as well, which is maybe why I despise attempts to manipulate or overmanage. The Spirit is like water and wind, to learn the ways of the Spirit we cannot barrel our way through, trying for speed, making noise which hides the powerful whisper.

To act in a way we listen is a slower way, arriving takes longer. There is not the quick rush, the thrill of the moment. It is difficult, and at times frustrating. That’s why it’s so important to look around, to take in that which goes by slowly, to recognize the nuances of life as it does come, to celebrate the beauty that others miss, to enlarge our soul by way of limited perspective.

It’s about learning to see, and like stars in the night, one cannot see right away all that is there. Nor does it help to go many places, wander around for stimulation, for the mind becomes dulled, too much to take in.

So, as the monks of old, the greats who sought Christ in the wilderness because they could not find him in the usual places, I am learning the lessons. Patience, faith, steadfastness, work, hope, and staying put. I haven’t learned these yet, I still rebel, I still seek that which is beyond me, to find an advantage, to prove myself to others. This is a long road, and I am young.

I look around today and I take joy in what I saw, feeling a need to do still more practical work, understanding that I am doing what I can. Having prayed I trust God has heard my prayer. What I am learning too, is the lesson of living in faith even without seeing, maybe without ever seeing.

Habakkuk said, “Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines, though the olive crop fails and the fields produce no food, though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalts, yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in God my Savior.

“The Sovereign Lord is my strength, he makes my feet like the feet of a deer, he enables me to go on the heights.”

That is the lesson I am learning. To look and be joyful. I’ve said all my life I believe in God and Christ, in love and eternity. Now, it is my chance to show that I really do believe it all. That is the gift of lack and frustration. Faith becomes real. A fractured time can become a treasured time, all in an instant. This all I am learning, not yet grasping, though finally beginning to approach. I hope.

Unseasonably warm. That is what the news people said. Times like these are when I value my mountain life more, for last year I had to endure summer temperatures without the cool breeze, or without even an air conditioner. It was bad for my mind. Now, here, unseasonable does not mean unbearable. Much better for my mind.

When the pines were being cut down, the cutters did an admirable job keeping the collateral damage to a minimum. Small saplings underneath huge dead pines survived, the yard is filled with Spring growth. There was one accident. A large section of trunk was supposed to go one way, towards the street. It veered. The several hundred pound section sheared the side of a twenty foot fir, and split a seven foot tall black oak right down the middle. Once they were done cleaning I tried to do what I could, feeling sorrow for the trees. Life is always important, I think. There is more than a little bit of Ent in me.

I got some stuff which covers the wounds, and some special arbor wrap to put around broken branches. The fir was not badly damaged, just a few branches taken off. I covered the open wounds, and know it will be fine. The oak I had my doubts about. I did major surgery, wrapping the trunk after pulling it back together. Only a foot of it was not split. I wrapped some branches as well, restoring them as well I could. My hope was I got to it quick enough, and it would be able to manage.

Today, it was full of new red leaves, bud exploding with new growth. It isn’t the most vibrant of the oaks about, but the fact that it still lives is a miracle. It is a delight, and I pray it will be so for a very long while.

This was not my most succesful day. I try to have a list of what I want to get done, and have both a goal and a minimum. Today, I got done the minimum. I’m not sure why. Distractions, minor irritations, other tasks of import which took time away from my usual.

I feel like I am wrestling with new things, with new approaches, that a curtain has closed, and others are opening. And to be honest I’m not sure how I feel. This is not where I wanted to be at this point in my life, though maybe it is where I need to be.

Part of the trouble is there is no rest really. Unlike a regular monastic life I do not have either a vow nor a long term commitment, each day is one in which I feel I must prove myself, to try and forge a way. So, I have no ability to settle back and just be, no calm in which I relax. Well, not really. There are aspects which I do embrace, but it is not deep within my soul, the meditations are just enough to keep me from losing my way entirely.

There would be peace to know I have years to spend, but I do not know. I do not know the path, so I try and manage for all sorts of possibilities, keeping all options open, and thus not purely focused on any. Yet, I feel a certain sense of purpose. Something is driving me different, something has changed. I cannot yet grasp what it is, and feel uneasy and hopeful all at the same time.