Carmina Gadelica

Born in Edinburgh, Scotland in 1832, Alexander Carmichael was a writer and journalist who is best known for his collection Carmina Gadelica, “The Hymns of the Gael.”  The Carmina Gadelica is a fascinating work in which Carmichael unites the Christian and pre-Christian spirituality of the Scottish Isles.   Excerpts appear frequently in the Celtic prayer book I read daily, so I’ve decided to post pieces on my blog, possibly weekly.  This first piece is the “Rune Before Prayer.”  As Carmichael explains it, 

“The old people in the Isles sing this or some other short hymn before prayer. Sometimes the hymn and the prayer are intoned in low tremulous unmeasured cadences like the moving and moaning, the soughing and the sighing, of the ever-murmuring sea on their own wild shores.  They generally retire to a closet, to an outhouse, to the lee of a knoll, or to the shelter of a dell, that they may not be seen nor heard of men. I have known men and women of eighty, ninety, and a hundred years of age continue the practice of their lives in going from one to two miles to the seashore to join their voices with the voicing, of the waves and their praises with the praises of the ceaseless sea.”

Sonora

Last weekend on our hike into the Sonora Desert, I decided to take a series of pictures from the top of a hill we climbed.  I found this slick website that allowed me to stitch them into a panorama.  Hope you enjoy it.

Panorama of Sonora1 on CleVR.com

Forever Young

You may find this odd, but here it is.  Yesterday morning in the darkness of the church, I had this calm, but very clear vision/sensation/feeling -- and I even mentioned it to Mom in the evening -- that I was going to live to be a healthy and productive 100-years old.  Maybe it's because the narrator of my new manuscript is 100.  Regardless, when I got up this morning, Brad sent me an email with a quote from the book he's currently reading.

"...this 95 year old man came hiking twenty five miles over the mountain. Know why he could do it? Because no one ever told him he couldn't. No one ever told him he oughta be off dying somewhere in an old age home."

from Born to Run by Christopher McDougall

Eldorado

a poem by

Edgar Allen Poe

first published,April 21, 1849

Gaily bedight,
    A gallant knight,
In sunshine and in shadow,
    Had journeyed long,
    Singing a song,
In search of Eldorado.

    But he grew old-
    This knight so bold-
And o'er his heart a shadow
    Fell as he found
    No spot of ground
That looked like Eldorado.

    And, as his strength
    Failed him at length,
He met a pilgrim shadow-
    "Shadow," said he,
    "Where can it be-
This land of Eldorado?"

    "Over the Mountains
    Of the Moon,
Down the Valley of the Shadow,
    Ride, boldly ride,"
    The shade replied-
"If you seek for Eldorado!"

Energized by my friend, Chris

When we moved back to Tucson, I met my neighbor across the street, Bruce Lee.  No kidding, I really believe he is THE Bruce Lee of filmdom fame, although Hans made me doubt that when our wayward pup decided to nip Bruce on their meeting.  As months progressed, Bruce and I always wave to one another.  For two Christmases now, we've received egg rolls from Bruce.  This year, I thanked his wife, Veronica and she admitted that it was indeed the karate champ himself who made the rolls!  Wow!

Several months ago, on my way out at oh-dark-thirty, I passed Bruce's son Chris as he trudged to the school bus pickup point down the street.  I stopped and we introduced ourselves.  Ever since then, Chris greets me with a smile and a wave as I pass him so early in the morning.

A few months ago, Chris stopped by to see if we'd buy some cookie dough to support his school activity, wrestling.  Naturally, Marie and I did, possibly but not probably due as much to the fact that Chris was selling Macadamia Nut cookie dough, by favorite.  During that conversation, I learned that Chris carries a GPA well in excess of a 3.0.  We've often talked about me attending one of his wrestling meets.  The chance came this weekend when Chris told me there was a tournament at his high school, Marana High School.

Saturday morning, I got on my bike and pedaled the dozen miles or so to the high school.  I paid my five bucks and went in.  It was around nine o'clock.  I ended up watching four matches.  By the way, a dozen teams were participating from all over the Tucson area including the Foothills where Brad and Jesse attended.  I really enjoyed the matches, and I was totally energized by all of these young athletes from all over Tucson who were willing to put their skills on the line for their school, their parents and themselves.  It was incredible! I never did see Chris wrestle, as I left at 1000 to ride home and attend to other things.

This afternoon, Sunday, I was out front when Chris and his wrestling buddy Billy drove up to his house.  As always, Chris greeted me with a broad smile.  He never knew I was there yesterday.  Then he proceeded to tell me proudly that he won the entire tournament.  I could see his buddy Billy was proud of his friend.

Next time you think American youth are going to hell in a hand-basket, check out a 'minor' high school sport event.  You'll be glad you did.

A Sioux Prayer

This Sioux prayer was translated by Chief Yellow Lark in 1857.

Oh, Great Spirit, whose voice I hear in the winds,

Whose breath gives life to the world, hear me

I am small and weak

I come to you as one of your children. 

I need your strength and wisdom.

May I walk in beauty.

Make my eyes ever behold the red and purple sunset.

Make my hands respect the things you have made

And my ears sharp to your voice.

Make me wise so that I may know the things you have taught your children.

The lessons you have written in every leaf and rock

Make me strong!

Not to be superior to my brothers, but to fight my greatest enemy....myself.

Make me ever ready to come to you with straight eyes,

So that when life fades as the fading sunset,

May my spirit come to you without shame.

The Light in the Heart of Darkness

During the two years that I researched and wrote The Hamsa, my belief and understanding of God evolved in a way that I never would have anticipated.  As a youngster, I was raised to believe in a heaven and a hell.  That concept and a father's belt were the fundamental tools used to enforce discipline: an unruly child was threatened with an eternity of roasting in hell and got just a taste of what it might be like with a few good whacks from his father's belt.

Over time, I abandoned the thought of hell, as I drifted from religion and towards spirituality.

I struggled again with the concept as I wrote The Hamsa.  What happened to Hitler?  The more I researched, the more the question plagued me.  Was there anyone ever as evil as Hitler, I asked myself?  What happens to a person like this?  One Sunday, my good friend Father Greg delivered a wonderful sermon in which he canticalized, "This is Jesus my son in whom I am well pleased ... this is the Jordan river in which I am well pleased ... this is Jerusalem in which I am well pleased ..."  His list went on and on.  I met with Father Greg for an hour the following Monday.  "Finish this sentence," I challenged him.  "This is Auschwitz ..."  Could the conclusion possibly me "in which I am well pleased?"

Throughout the conversation and the days that followed, things became clearer to me.  At the core of it all is the fact that God gave us free will.  Virtually everything we do can be accomplished in more than one way.  Some ways are better than others, and some ways simply represent the clear difference between right and wrong.  With that thought in mind, I concluded that God created no 'bad people.'  We are all good people.  The fact is, good people can make bad choices.

The picture became even clearer to me ... If I believe there is no hell, and if I believe there are no bad people, what happens to people like Hitler who make horrendously bad choices?  The answer has become inescapable to me.  As each man takes his final breath, God gives man his final gift.  With each man's final breath, God reveals ALL to him and from that revelation comes the light, even from the heart of darkness.  At that instant in time between life and eternity, each man KNOWS the truth, and it is so clear that it is undeniable.  At that instant when darkness becomes light, each man achieves redemption, passes from life and into the heart of God.

Father Greg also introduced me to the work of the late Thomas Merton.  Recently, I read another revelating statement from Merton that influences me to think I may be getting closer to the truth.  In his book No Man Is an Island, Merton writes, "... the supreme expression of [God's} justice is to forgive those whom no one else would ever have forgiven.  That is why He is, above all, the God of those who can hope where there is no hope."