pocket epiphanies – Steve Jacobsen, Ed.D

Maybe Prayers Are Like Snowflakes

One early spring afternoon years ago, I was making the three-hour drive on Interstate 90 from Seattle to our home in central Washington. The highway passes through Snoqualmie Pass in the Cascade Mountains. There had been plenty of snow that winter and there were only a few cars on the road as light flurries were falling. I was alone. I heard a loud crashing noise. On the right side of the road ahead of me I watched a large snow-covered branch fall to the ground from a tall pine tree . As I continued driving, I wondered how much weight it must take to break that branch off from the trunk of its tree. How many snowflakes were required to make that happen? Did just one last snowflake tip the balance?

As I continued driving, I wondered if prayers might be like snowflakes. Individually, they are virtually weightless. But can they accumulate over time to make something tangible and unexpected happen?

There have been many theories over the centuries about how prayer might actually “work.” There are many spiritual traditions encouraging people to pray. Many people share stories of how prayer has led to some remarkable outcomes.

At the same time, many people can remember times when what they prayed for did not come to be. Much has been written trying to understand “unanswered prayer.”

I have had colleagues in the medical profession recount experiences when they were working with families and individuals who were facing serious health challenges who put all their faith in prayer, sometimes to the exclusion of good science. If the malady did not disappear, the family was faced not only with the loss of a loved one but questioning their faith as well.

I no longer expect to come up with a definitive answer to what prayer is and just how it “works.” But some stories come to mind. I’m going to share one this week and more in a future posting.

When I arrived to serve my congregation in Goleta, one man who became a friend and mentor was Hank Weaver. Hank had recently retired after ten years at UCSB in the Education Abroad Program. He was a faithful Mennonite and a lifetime pacifist. Hank was a warm, engaging and brilliant man who walked with a slight limp. I soon learned his story. Just two years before, he had been diagnosed with a serious form of cancer in his lower spine. The initial prognosis indicated he might not have long to live. He decided to learn as much as he could about what he could do. He had a PhD in chemistry and, as a dedicated scientist, worked carefully with his oncologist to begin the chemotherapy.

At this time, people were beginning to use visualization as part of cancer treatment; the idea is you use your imagination in meditatation to visualize the chemo overcoming the cancer. Hank was told one common example was to imagine cancer cells as small fish swimming in your bloodstream, and the chemo is a shark eating them up one by one. Hank thought about it and said that wouldn’t work for him due to his belief in nonviolence. He developed an alternative. He imagined a catfish swimming through his bloodstream, bottom feeding on things his body no longer wanted.

Hank asked anyone who was willing to pray for his healing to do so, and many did. One particularly dedicated member (in church speak, a “prayer warrior”) told me she had created an image in her mind of Hank entering the sanctuary fully healed, and many times prayerfully held that image in her mind and soul. Hank also did all the right things in terms of diet and physical activity.

Months passed. Slowly, the cancer began to disappear. Eventually it went into remission. The damage to his spine meant that his walk would always be impaired, but that was a small price to pay for the outcome. (He did tell me one benefit of his impairment was the handicapped placard he had now had for his car – he began to get invitations from friends asking to go with him to Dodger games to take advantage of his hard-earned status for a premium parking place.)

Hank ended up self-publishing a book about his experience, Confronting the Big C. Eventually he and his wife moved to Indiana where he served as interim President of Goshen College before retiring. Hank had experienced a remarkable healing, and he believed it was the combination of good science and open-minded spirituality that led to his outcome. He lived twenty-five more years until dying at the age of 93.

I believe Hank would say there are no guaranteed outcomes in this life. None of us are getting out of here alive, and death will eventually take every one of us. But when facing serious challenges, we can choose to gather and employ all the best resources to increase our chances for a desired outcome. We may never know how all these different forces – medical, spiritual, social, emotional – might interact with each other. Some effects we can see and measure. But others, like prayer, may involve forces that are small and subtle. But that doesn’t mean they can’t make things happen.

Image: Fineartamerica, Tera Fraley

Five Tips for Your Spiritual Journey

On the first Sunday of the year, I was asked to give a sermon marking “Epiphany,” a day which focuses on the story of the Three Wise Men. As I kept reflecting on the story, five lessons emerged which I feel can be “wise” guidelines for our own journeys: Be Curious, Go With Friends, Be Careful, Give Your Best, and Be At Peace. As I resume my blogging practice for the year, I decided sharing this list would be a good beginning.

Be Curious In the Magi story, I see three forms of curiosity at work. Their quest began as they were studying the stars – it is rooted in a fascination with nature. They got as far as Jerusalem but then needed local scholars to give them their next clue – they needed to refine their search by turning to spiritual writings. And they choose to go home by another route after one of them had a dream – they knew how to listen to inner promptings. We can follow their lead:

Nature: whether it’s a daily practice of outdoor mediation or walks, studying any dimension of natural sciences, or simply being ready to ponder the mysteries of life that surround us, we can be open to moments of awe in the natural world that expand our mind.

Scriptures: Spiritual writings from long ago and the present day can open us to see new meaning in what we experience.

Inner promptings: We can gather important information from science and spiritual writings which can be complimented by paying attention to our own intuition, dreams and feelings.

Go With Friends Sometimes we need to go on a journey by ourselves to find what we need. But other times it’s best to go with friends – people who share our values and hopes and are open to new discoveries. There were at least three Magi. Spend time with good friends as you navigate your life this year.

Be Careful The Magi were warned in a dream not to return the way they had come – Herod was not to be trusted. We go through life wanting and wishing for the best, but we don’t want to be naïve about possible deceptions and wrong turns. Some leaders, institutions and people can pretend to want to help us, but they may be using us for their own ends. Be careful as you make important decisions.

Give Your Best The Magi offered gifts with specific significance: gold for a king, frankincense for a spiritual leader, and myrrh for a prophet who will be facing death. In our lives, sometimes material gifts we give can make an important difference in the world. But there are other ways to give. If we are part of a family, we give our support, love and attention year after year. This doesn’t guarantee outcomes we may prefer – over time we may have many sleepless nights as events unfold in the lives of people we love that we cannot control. But we still give our best. We are asked to love our neighbor, which is not always easy. But making a good effort to meet, understand and befriend people in our communities is what creates authentic social life. And our spiritual traditions ask us to honor the stranger in our midst, for they too are part of the human family. We can seek to do that in our jobs and in volunteer work. And we can do that by supporting worthy causes with our time and talents. Since retiring, I have been helping raise money for a new community medical clinic in town that serves people who would otherwise be unable to receive such care. I may never know personally anyone who will be served, but I believe it’s the right thing to do.

Be At Peace: After the Magi worship the child and offer their gifts, they go home and are never heard from again. It will be 30 years before that child in the manger will begin his work in the world, and it’s unlikely the Magi would still be alive to learn what unfolds. But they did what they could with what they had in the time they had, and they did it well. As we get older, we realize there are many things we care about and want to know “how it all will turn out.” But life is never finished. What we can do is to stay curious, travel with friends, be careful along the way, and give our best. And then it’s OK for us to be at peace. We’ve earned it.

Photo credit: pixabay.com

Taking a Break

Dear Reader,

As we turn into the new year, I am going to take a break from writing. Not sure for how long – maybe just one week, or maybe longer. Not sure if I will pick up and keep going like I’ve been doing or do something different. Words that have come to me include “lie fallow,” “take a hiatus,” and “pause to regroup.” If you have any advice or ideas, let me know at info@drjsb.com. I am grateful to have this connection with every one of you.

Steve

Visualizing the Christmas Stories

Over the years, I’ve grown in appreciation for the different ways artists imagine and portray traditional stories. The Advent and Christmas season is a great example. Here are a few of the works I have come to treasure over the years.

The Angel Visits Mary

A young peasant girl named Mary receives a surprise visit from the angel Gabriel, who announces she has been chosen to bear a child with a divine destiny. In 1485, Botticelli imagined it this way:

…the incoming of the divine Spirit seems to almost be knocking the angel over as it travels towards Mary.

In 1898, the English painter Tanner imagined it this way:

…the “angel” appears as a shaft of pure light; Mary seems to be contemplating what she is experiencing.

Joseph’s Dreams

Mary was engaged to Joseph, and when he discovers she is pregnant, he decides to break the engagement. But an angel appears in a dream and changes his mind.

In 1645, the French painter Georges de La Tour imagined it this way:

Joseph has fallen asleep in a chair while reading, and the unseen messenger is near him with an unseen candel illuminating the space between them as the dream is transmitted.

After the child is born, the family must flee due to threats from the government. In the process, Jospeph is twice more guided by dreams. In 1645, Rembrandt imagined one of those times this way:

…the angel is in the room with Mary and Joseph as they sleep. The angel extends the left hand to Mary while touching Joseph’s shoulder to impart the dream.

“The Visitation” — Mary Visits Her Older Cousin Elizabeth

In this episode, the newly pregnant Mary travels south to visit her older cousin Elizabeth, whom the angel Gabriel had told her has also become pregnant. When Mary arrives and greets Elizabeth, the baby in Elizabeth’s womb senses Mary’s presence and “leaps” in response; the women share an intimate moment of mutual knowing.

In 1440, the sculptor Luca Della Robia created this scene:

…here’s a close-up of the two women looking into each other’s eyes:

In 1530, the Italian painter Pontormo envisioned it this way:

…this image also merits a close-up of the faces as they behold each other:

That woman between the two of them who is looking at us — what does she want us to understand? No one knows for sure. I was excited to view this in person recently when it was at the Getty Museum a few years ago.

The Birth of the Child

In 1500, Botticelli created this scene, which he called “Mystic Nativity:”

…the manger is in the center of the picture…Joseph is asleep…Mary and the child are gazing at each other…while above, below, and around them, angels dance in celebration.

In 1646, Rembrandt created this contrasting version:

Simple, earthy, quiet, intimate.

And in 1865, the pioneering British photographer Julia Margaret Cameron created a “Nativity” scene in her studio using working class people as her models:

Great spiritual stories can contain a “surplus of meaning” – there is not just one way they can be interpreted or portrayed. Just as scientists use math to reveal important truths, artists engage our imagination. Our souls welcome this. Imagination allows us to see beyond the surface of life into the mysteries and wonder which surround us.

Merry Christmas, dear readers!

Lead image: “L’Annuncio” (The Annunciation), Salvado Dali, 1967

Holiday Perspectives: Sunsets and Family Gatherings

Some friends offered us their condo in Coronado for this past week. The unit is on the 9th floor with impressive views of the Pacific, and one night I took this photo of the sunset.

Seeing our environment from a higher vantage point helps us see beyond our up-close, on-the-ground view of life. We see where we are and what’s around us more clearly.

While here, we celebrated Thanksgiving with some of our own family and my wife’s sister’s family. Altogether there were 14 adults and 9 children.

I’ve heard that all photographs have three levels: bottom, middle and top. In my photograph, the bottom is the pool and shoreline; the middle is the ocean; and the top is the sky. As I looked at our gathering, I realized there were three groups: the 9 kids all under the age of 10 who are coming up in the world; the group of adults and parents who are in the middle of their journeys; and the four of us grandparents. I also became aware of who was not there…parents, grandparents, and friends with whom I’ve shared holidays over the years who now live only in my memory.

I recognized that I was the oldest person present. I’m in the top third of that photo — I am approaching my sunset. But I am also beholding the sun rising and shining in the lives and faces of the children and younger adults we were with.

It again brings to mind a talk I once heard at the local Lobero Theater given by my beloved mentor and scholar of world spirituality, Huston Smith. Someone asked him what he thinks will happen when we die. He said there are two common ideas. One is that we will be able to forever experience something like the sun rising. The other is that we will be absorbed into the sunlight. He smiled and said if he was given a choice, he’d watch the sunrise. But after a few thousand years, he assumes he will have had enough. At that point he’d be ready to merge into it.

Third Things

I first heard about “Third Things” through the work of Parker Palmer. Palmer used “Third Things” to build relationships and trust in retreats and programs over the years, and marriage and family counselors often recommend it to their clients. It can work well with two people and in small groups, with those who have known each other a long time and with those just getting acquainted.

Palmer’s underlying assumption is that our soul is shy like a wild animal.[i] It prefers to remain in the background in everyday conversations and encounters. But “Third Things” can create an atmosphere in which our souls can emerge. It may be a poem, a story, a case study, a spiritual reflection, a piece of music or art, or a shared activity. People take time to focus on the “Third Thing” with one another and give each soul a chance to surface and speak. Here are some personal examples.

Food Preparation My mother suffered several tragedies early in her life and often seemed overwhelmed by the stress of raising four kids; it was rare to have opportunities for more reflective conversations. But one of her gifts was making apple pies. When I was old enough, I would sit with her, observe, and help. She’d peel and cut the apples, add sugar and cinnamon, and let it sit. She’d create the crust, working it until it was just right, spreading it out with a rolling pin, cutting it to the right size, then making “pinwheels” out of the trimmings. The aroma of the baking pies was wondrous, and the pies were always delicious. But focusing on the pie-making calmed and opened her soul, and set the tone for some memorable conversations. As I grew older, I treasured those moments of shared presence as much as the pies themselves.
Commuting. When my daughters were teenagers, it was difficult to get them to talk about what was going on in their life. But on the mornings I’d drive them to school, we would be looking at the road ahead while music played on the radio. Meaningful conversations emerged when it didn’t feel like Dad was putting them on the spot.
Spiritual studies in small groups. A significant time in my spiritual journey came when I started attending a small Bible study group in my early twenties. I went into the Sunday School classroom reluctantly — I was expecting to be told what I was supposed to think or believe. A dozen or so people were gathering in a circle. Most were in their forties and one woman was in her 70s, so I didn’t expect we’d have much in common. But someone in the group would read a chosen passage, make a few comments about the context, and people would take turns reflecting on what it might mean for them. They spoke openly about their struggles, questions and hopes, as well as their desire to do the right thing in whatever situation they were facing. The Scripture passage was not an end in itself – it was an open door through which people entered each other’s lives with care and concern. I’ve experienced that many times since, both in classes I’ve led and ones where I’m a participant. It’s a beautiful thing to be with other people as we are finding our way together.
Travels and work projects. Early in my career I accompanied youth groups to build houses in Mexico. On the six-hour road trip we’d start talking. As we were pounding nails, we’d talk some more. And after each day of shared and satisfying labor, we’d sit around a campfire, exploring whatever was on their hearts and minds. I learned to appreciate how insightful they were — it was a privilege to be with them.
Bearing One Another’s Burdens. Our local representative, Lois Capps, experienced the loss of her young adult daughter while serving in Congress. Lois became part of a support group of other mothers in the House — Democrats and Republicans — who had also lost children. They would meet every other week for breakfast. When apart, they may have voted differently. But when together, they supported each other in their personal journeys of loss.
Sports and activities. When I am out on a golf course with my buddies, part of the focus is on our game. But, being outdoors and away from distractions, between shots we often engage in genuine conversations about what’s going on in our life. That same experience can arise when we are with someone else walking, hiking, camping, fishing, doing art, and going on pilgrimages.

In our current culture we can feel as if we live in a country “divided by algorithms” –much of how we see the world and other people is filtered by the digital news sources we rely on and comments by people who think like us. When we are around people who may see the world differently (sometimes at holiday gatherings) we can feel that gap is unbridgeable. But when we can find “third things” to focus on, we discover we don’t have to remain prisoners within those digital worlds. We can create common ground with one another. Maybe that’s one way we can strive to come together instead of being driven apart.

There is something about having a “Third Thing” that allows our souls to emerge and be present with one another.

[i] Note: In an earlier post, I described in more detail Parker Palmer’s metaphor: “Your Soul Is Like A Wild Animal”

Lead Image: “Walking Together,” unsplash.com

Arrivals and Departures

A friend and fellow blogger dropped his daughter off at college in Eastern Washington state, then boarded a plane going home to southern California. He recently described how it felt as the plane rose into the air:

Casting a shadow moving away from there. That’s us down there, pointing back toward where the 18 years happened. Watching the long-planned departure take place. Mulling that our part in her life is getting smaller. This is what we hoped for, right? That’s us down there, shrinking.[i]

Brad’s imagery lingered with me. I began imagining how some life experiences are like being on an airplane as we arrive or depart.

Arrivals

The birth of a baby: I remember the moment when the doctor lifted our first daughter from the womb. She looked my way, our eyes met, and she seemed to be thinking, “Where in the world am I?”

A child’s first laugh: My nephew and his wife recently shared an enchanting video of the first time their infant son looked at them and smiled. That week my wife and I had been watching “Dark Winds,” a detective series set in a Navajo community. In one episode, an infant laughs for the first time, which, in Navajo culture, signifies the infant has become a person. The family holds a traditional ceremony to mark that moment.

First personal memory: I was probably 4 years old. I was standing in a bedroom in our house. I had taken three eggs from the refrigerator, snuck into the room, and was carefully dropping them one by one onto the linoleum floor. Just as I dropped the second one, my mother came down the hall, saw me, and said, “What in the world are you doing!?!” I said, “I wanted to see what it looked like when they cracked.” She took the third egg away from me. I can still see the yellow yolks floating in the puddle of egg white on the floor. That is the first time I remember being self-aware. I was watching myself; that same observer is me now, thinking about the words I am typing.

First spiritual awareness: In 1991, the child psychologist Robert Coles published The Spiritual Life of Children, in which he described how children in different cultures wonder about God and the meaning of life. Many of these experiences happen before a child is eight years old. Perhaps you have such a memory.

Landing in a far away country: In 1975, I flew to Europe on Icelandic Airlines. I remember looking out the window as the plane descended from the clouds; we were crossing the English Channel, then suddenly were over the green French countryside. It seemed like a dream.

First day on a new job: My most memorable first day of work was the day I began to serve as Executive Director at Hospice of Santa Barbara in September 2008. I had never imagined being in that role, but there I was. I sat down at my desk feeling both exhilarated and anxious. For months after, I felt like an impostor, as people expected me to know things I had yet to learn. I was a stranger finding his way in a new land.

Departures

Dropping kids off at Junior High: More than once, I drove away remembering what a hormonal and emotional roller coaster that time in life had been for me — and hoping for the best for our offspring.

Sending kids off to college: We did it twice by car, once at an airport. Like Brad says, after so many years it’s a curious feeling to realize you’ll no longer be providing daily oversight. They are on their own, come what may. “That’s us…shrinking.”

Retirement: My last full-time job was Director at La Casa de Maria Retreat Center. I had planned to retire in the fall of 2018. But on January 8, the Montecito Debris Flow swept away eight buildings on our property, including my office where I had posted my diplomas and favorite photographs; it all disappeared and was never found. In the months that followed, we worked on the recovery until the decision was made to shut the Center down indefinitely. I left in June of that year. After saying goodbye to the staff, I drove out the back gate, thinking about how some chapters in our life end so much differently than we had imagined.

Last Call: I don’t know where I will be for my final “departure” – at home, in a hospital, or in a facility. Some hospice nurses have told me that, when someone is in their final days, they suggest the family leaves a window partly open so the spirit will be able to ascend freely when it’s time. I have asked for that. The lyrics of an American folk hymn come to mind:

When the shadows of this life have gone — I’ll fly away
Like a bird from prison bars has flown — I’ll fly away (I’ll fly away)

I’ll fly away, oh glory — I’ll fly away (In the morning)
When I die, Hallelujah, by and by — I’ll fly away (I’ll fly away)

Life for me hasn’t felt like being a bird behind bars, but more like being a pilgrim in a land of mystery and wonder. Until that final boarding, may we appreciate all the arrivals and departures we have witnessed and those still to come.

“Shadow of an airplane on a field,” freepik.com

[i]Brad McCarter, “Departing: College Dropoff #3,” Eyes Wide Roaming” blog; https://bradmccarter.substack.com/p/departing

Three Gifts America Has Given the World

“… when they study our civilization two thousand years from now, there will only be three things that Americans will be known for: the Constitution, baseball and jazz music. They’re the three most beautiful things Americans have ever created.” – writer and essayist Gerald Early, interviewed in Ken Burns’ documentary, Baseball

Having just endured an incredible World Series amid our current cultural and political climate, I will comment first on baseball.

Baseball may have roots in the English games of cricket and rounders, but by 1900 it had become 100% an American creation. 125 years later, it may not be a universal sport like soccer or basketball. But it has a passionate following in certain parts of Asia – particularly Japan and Korea – and in the Latin American countries that surround the Gulf of Mexico. At a time in our history in which “immigrants” are seen as “other,” the recent series included three superstars from Japan (Ohtani, Yamamoto, and Sasaki), a terrific first baseman from Tijuana (Alejandro Kirk), a Canadian playing for Los Angeles (Freddie Freeman), a star from the Dominican Republic (Vladimir Guerrero), a Puerto Rican (Kike Hernandez), a refugee from Cuba (Andy Pages), a Venezuelan (Miguel Rojas), and an African-American from Nashville (Mookie Betts), among others. The Dodger manager Dave Roberts was born in Okinawa to a Japanese mother and an active-duty African American Marine.

This American game has become a showcase for talented players from many backgrounds and cultures. It’s a game of opportunity, celebrating players no matter where they come from. It’s a game that can focus moment to moment on a particular individual player, but it’s a great team that wins and inspires. It’s a beautiful thing.

And then there’s jazz. One person who has helped me understand the deeper meaning of jazz is Wynton Marsalis. Ken Burns turned to Marsalis often in his Jazz documentary series, and everything he said struck me as revelatory. I saw him in concert several years ago and was again grateful for the insights he shared with the audience. Here is one of his observations:

As long as there is democracy, there will be people wanting to play jazz because nothing else will ever so perfectly capture the democratic process in sound. Jazz means working things out musically with other people. You have to listen to other musicians and play with them even if you don’t agree with what they’re playing. It teaches you the very opposite of racism and anti-Semitism. It teaches you that the world is big enough to accommodate us all.

Seeing and hearing gifted musicians express their individual gifts and voices while being a part of a larger group and delighting in the give and take with one another creates an experience in which the whole becomes greater than the parts. That’s jazz. When we experience it, it’s a beautiful thing.

And so is the Constitution.

Years ago, I was having lunch with a young Muslim grad student from Egypt as part of my community interfaith project. He told me he first learned about American culture while watching “Mighty Mouse” cartoons as a child. He shared favorite stories about growing up in Egypt, including how, during Ramadan, he and his childhood friends would wait for the signal that the time of daily fasting was over, then race from home to home enjoying the food set out by neighbors. He had come to appreciate all that America offers — particularly the constitution. “Do Americans realize how amazing it is that your country is ruled by a constitution instead of a dictator?” he once asked me.

The constitution was created by people who did not want to live in a political system like they had known in Europe – one in which some people would dominate others based on family ancestry, social position or a state-sponsored religion. The founders wanted to create a society in which people would experience a new level of freedom and opportunity. They worked long and hard to create the legal framework. It assumes people will let their deep passions be balanced by mutual respect and personal restraint. Like baseball, it assumes people will understand that to participate, everyone must follow established rules and customs until they are changed by due process. Like jazz, it teaches you this country is big enough to accommodate us all. When it is disrespected, it’s an offense to our ancestors who have given so much to honor and preserve it. When it is honored, it’s a beautiful thing.

America may leave the world more treasures – after all, there’s Broadway, rap, country music and Hollywood. But I will always celebrate baseball, jazz and the Constitution for what they offer and what they mean.

Lead image: “The raising of the American flag as the composer-conductor John Philip Sousa leads the Seventh (“Silk-Stocking”) Regiment Band in playing The Star-Spangled Banner during Opening Day of Yankee Stadium with the Boston Red Sox and New York Yankees on April 18, 1923 at Yankee Stadium in the Bronx, New York.“

Are You an “Everyday Mystic?”

For centuries, a “mystic” was someone who had a rare and unique spiritual experience, different from what most of us would ever know.

This is reflected in the word itself: The term mystic is derived from the Greek noun “mystes,” which originally designated an initiate of a secret cult or mystery religion. In Classical Greece and during the Hellenistic Age, the rites of the mystery religions were largely or wholly secret. The term” mystes” is itself derived from the verb “myein” (“to close,” especially the eyes or mouth) and signified a person who kept a secret.[i]

But in recent years, the term “everyday mystic” has come into use. Here’s one description:

An “everyday mystic” is someone who seeks or experiences spiritual depth and transcendence within ordinary daily life, rather than through withdrawal from the world or extreme ascetic practices.

The concept suggests that mystical experience—that sense of connection to something greater, moments of profound awareness, or spiritual insight—doesn’t require monasteries, retreats, or renouncing worldly responsibilities. Instead, everyday mystics find the sacred in mundane activities: washing dishes, walking to work, caring for children, or sitting in traffic.[ii]

I have known quite a few “everyday mystics.” They don’t try to be different or better than anyone else — they are simply doing something they feel called to do and, in the process, find a deep connection beyond and within themselves. They don’t do it for money, or to prove their worth, or to puff up their ego.

Some examples came to my mind:

A physical therapist who told me there were times working with patients when his mind would become quiet and he would feel as if light was passing through him to the person he was treating.
Farmers, gardeners and hikers who sense a silent and limitless bond with the earth and the mysterious processes which underly all life.
Musicians who feel as if the music is playing through them.
Grandparents when they behold their grandchildren. They had loved their own children from the moment each child was born, but so much of parenting is about being a manager, behavior coach and the one person responsible for everything to do with the child. But then a grandchild appears and seeing them evokes a sense of pure wonder.
Artists who get immersed in their process and end up creating something far beyond what they could have imagined when they started and don’t know how it happened.
Mechanics who have an innate sense of what is wrong with a car and how to fix it with the least cost and effort, working in harmony with all the moving parts instead of simply using their will to fix something that is wrong.
A young man who told me he was pitching for his college team and for a few innings the ball seemed to go exactly where he intended every time. The experience passed and he never had it again. He could not explain how it happened but has never forgotten what it felt like.
Golfers who watch a ball rise and fall through the air with a grace and purpose that feels as if something more is present than a little ball being struck.
Ocean swimmers who love the mystery of being on the surface of the limitless sea, and who feel deeply at home in salt water—perhaps sensing an unbroken thread of experience going back to our pre-human ancestors as well as our personal life as it began in the womb.
People who know they are dying and “descend into the heart,” losing their fear and becoming open and observant towards everything around them.

Richard Rohr said, “For me, “mysticism” simply means experiential knowledge of spiritual things, as opposed to book knowledge, secondhand knowledge, or even church knowledge.”[iii]

Huston Smith said, “Most mystics do not want to read religious wisdom; they want to be it. A postcard of a beautiful lake is not a beautiful lake, and Sufis may be defined as those who dance in the lake.”[iv]

We can always be grateful when such moments come to us.

“Hands Cradling a Child’s Head,” Kathe Kollwitz, 1920

[i] https://www.britannica.com/topic/mysticism

[ii] https://claude.ai/chat/468625b2-74aa-4984-ba6e-8eb7f17a257a

[iii] https://cac.org/daily-meditations/sidewalk-spirituality/

[iv] Huston Smith, Jeffery Paine (2012). “The Huston Smith Reader,” p.93, Univ of California Press

Lead Image: “Ocean Swimmer In Thick Fog Near Reykjaice,” storyblocks.com

Waking Up With Rip Van Winkle

I knew the story of Rip van Winkel as a child, but it returned to my awareness several years ago.

My wife and I had moved my mother-in-law into a local retirement community. We attended a meeting for the adult offspring of new residents to help us appreciate some of the challenges faced by our “elders.” The speaker noted how quickly our culture was changing and how disorienting it can be. “They can feel like Rip Van Winkel,” the presenter said. “One day they wake up and everyone has these devices in their hands which seems to claim all their attention. They wonder: Where did these come from? Where was I when all this happened?”

Not long after, my mother-in-law asked us why all the “young people” were focused on their phones when they were visiting her.

Here’s a summary of the story, first published in 1819:

Rip Van Winkle, a Dutch American man with a habit of avoiding useful work, lives in a village at the foot of the Catskill Mountains in the years before the American Revolution. One day, he goes squirrel hunting in the mountains with his dog, Wolf, to escape his wife’s irritation. As evening falls, he hears a voice calling his name and finds a man dressed in old-fashioned Dutch clothing and carrying a keg. Rip helps the man carry his burden to a cleft in the rocks from which thunderous noises are emanating; the source proves to be a group of bearded men wearing similar outfits and playing ninepins. Not asking who these men are or how they know his name, Rip joins them in drinking from the keg he has helped carry and soon becomes so drunk that he falls asleep.

Rip awakens on a sunny morning, at the spot where he first saw the keg-carrier, and finds that many drastic changes have occurred; his beard is a foot long and has turned grey, his musket is badly deteriorated, and Wolf is nowhere to be found. Returning to his village, he discovers it to be larger than he remembers and filled with people in unfamiliar clothing, none of whom recognize him. When asked how he voted in the election that has just been held, he declares himself a loyal subject of George III, unaware that the American Revolutionary War has taken place in his absence. He learns that many of his old friends either were killed in the war or have left the village, and is disturbed to find a young man who shares his name, mannerisms, and younger appearance. A young woman states that her father is Rip Van Winkle, who has been missing for 20 years, and an old woman recognizes him as Rip. The young woman and the young Rip are his children, and the former has named her infant son after him as well. (i)

Fast forward to our time.

In 2004, an awkward college student named Mark Zuckerberg created an online platform he called “The Facebook.” 21 years later – about the same amount of time as Rip’s nap – it is now used by 3 billion people worldwide every month; Zuckerberg’s company tracks, analyzes and exploits every interaction.

In 2017, TikTok was launched as a way to share videos. It currently has more than 1.6 billion users and is considered a potentially serious security threat to the U.S.

In January 2021, a mob of thousands, encouraged by the U.S. President, stormed the nation’s capital, threatening to hang the Vice-President and interrupt the lawful process of certifying the recent election. Four people died, and among the injured were 174 police officers. This was the first insurrection of its kind since the nation’s founding. That same president was reelected in 2024 and pardoned those who had been convicted in the riot; everyday he is disregarding customs and processes that have held our country together for generations.

Where was I when all these events were coming into being? Sleeping somewhere in the Catskills?

It is a timeless human experience — life changes more quickly than we expect. People we love are gone. We look in the mirror and aren’t sure who is looking back at us. Changes happen in our culture that we had no idea were coming.

Some change, both technological and social, is good and we call it “progress.” But not all change is. There are often unintended consequences that are hard to mitigate – like the detrimental effect on young people of smartphone addiction or the threats to personal privacy and democracy created by social media. Change is accelerating in the digital age, and AI will only intensify it.

The culture is changing, but I believe the same basic spiritual values remain. Tell the truth in important moments. Forgive as best you can. Try to love your neighbor. Look out for the people who have no voice or little status. If you are in a position of power, don’t take bribes or exploit the trust that has been placed in you. Spend time in nature to recover a sense of wonder and humility. Take a day of rest so you don’t burn out. Enjoy life — and know the joy that comes from serving others.

Rip van Winkel woke up after a deep sleep and found some unexpected blessings when he returned to his village. I hope that’s the case for us, but I’m not so sure. I want to stand up for the values I’ve come to trust in my life and join with others who are determined to do the same. I don’t want to fall asleep quite yet.

[i] Images and excerpt: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rip_Van_Winkle