A Return to the Wilderness

 

 For four days in August of this year I returned to my slice of heaven on earth: the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness. This was my 9^th trip in 40 years. Five of those trips have been made from my homes in Miami, Florida and Savannah, Georgia, thus requiring a full two days of travel to get there and to return home. Clearly the lakes and rivers, spruce, pine and birch trees of the Northwoods of Minnesota have a strong pull on me. 

This pull even overrides the strong physical test and toll that it takes on my body each trip I make. This is a designated Wilderness Area, which means no motorized transportation is allowed. The only way to enter is by canoe or on foot. You must transport all your equipment and food for your time in the wilderness by canoe or backpack. This involves paddling fully loaded canoes up and across lakes, sometimes battling strong headwinds, portaging your canoes and equipment on rocky trails or across beaver dams to access rivers and streams that connect the lakes. All in search of a campsite where you then must unload all your gear, set-up your tent, rain tarp, hang your bear ropes to hang your food pack at night, and then see to your meals! It returns life to the basics, securing food, shelter, security. 

But this is all done while you are surrounded by the most beautiful, glorious canvas of blues and greens, browns and whites. With fluffy clouds scudding across the deep blue sky on sunny days and ominous, low hanging gray clouds when overcast. The weather is constantly changing and often in dramatic ways. The water is crystal clear and, though the outfitters and National Forest Service warn you to sterilize your water before consuming it, (and there is risk of bacterial infection) still you can drink it if you do so far enough from shore and it tastes cold and pure and better than any tap water! 

So, while visiting the wilderness is challenging and hard on me physically, it is just the opposite for me emotionally and spiritually. The wilderness is renewing and freeing and relaxing. My mind and my heart and my spirit breathe more deeply and freely in the wilderness. That is why I have returned again and again, now for 9 times. 

It is also a place where I have always been able to journal, faithfully and prolifically. In the wilderness I am able to write freely and deeply, exploring life and my inner self. What else is there to do here, beyond meeting your basic needs for living? I easily find the time, focus, and energy for writing. In the Northwoods, off the technology grid, it is just me, and the loons, birds, fish, mosquitoes, flies, trees, lakes, and my own thoughts. It is a perfect setting for reflection, meditation, contemplation, and writing.

So, with this introduction, you have probably surmised I am hoping to revive this blog: Sabbath Tango. I have many more thoughts to share which I will be posting (be patient with me as I am now back home and no longer in the wilderness and daily life intrudes much more on this activity of writing and sharing) in the days to come.

 

A sunrise of promise for 2010

The sun rose brightly over Biscayne Bay on a new day, a New Year, a New Decade. There were clouds on the horizon so the sun was slightly delayed in breaking forth with bright rays of hope and glory for the new day. Somewhat symbolic it seems. Since 2009 was such a difficult year for so many of us undoubtedly we will not be able to put it behind us as quickly as we might like. While 2010 holds the promise of being a better year and for many of the problems of the past several years to begin to be solved, resolved, and improved upon, it will probably not feel a lot different than 2009 for the first part of the year. The promise, though, is that just as the sun did rather quickly rise above the clouds to a clear, open sky to shine forth brightly, 2010 will eventually prove to be a brighter, better year than 2009.

It has begun well for me. I did get up at 6:00 a.m. to walk to the Bay to start my day. As I left the house the full moon which closed out 2009 was still shining in the western sky through a slight haze hanging over the darkened world, whether from Florida humidity, or the remains of all the fire works exploded by our neighbors the previous night (it was like a war zone) providing an ethereal illumination for the beginning of the walk. The sunrise was well worth waking up early and the walk. It is always very nourishing for my soul to spend even just a few minutes down by the Bay at the start of the day. That also means I got my exercise and meditation walk in for the day. I then spent the rest of the morning cleaning up the house to get ready for my daughter to return with one of her Law school classmates for a few days before they have to return to Pennsylvania.

I have also been able to write this post for the blog, which makes two days in a row and provides a good start to 2010. That is my primary resolution this year: to make a commitment to finding time to write, either in my blog or in my private journal, every day. I wrote almost every day when I was on sabbatical. That was in addition to studying Spanish, doing homework, exploring the city in which I was living. There really should not be any excuse for not writing. So I will make a commitment to doing that each and every day this year.

Happy New Year one and all. Hold onto the hope and promise of the sunrise for a new day for our world in 2010!

Some final thoughts on/in 2009!

Happy New Year! It is 11:00 p.m. on December 31, 2009. I have done a lousy job of regular postings on this blog this past fall. My last post, "A New Commitment to Sabbath Time" talked about a plan for incorporating mini-retreats into my monthly schedule. I did achieve that to some extent: I had a trip to Orlando in November for the Florida Conference Board of Directors' meeting. I had some great reflection time in the car on the drive to Orlando and actually composed some blog posts in my mind, but then never made the time to sit down and actually commitment them to computer and post on the blog!!!! Then I had a nice weekend off for my annual immersion in NASCAR during the final Sprint Cup race in Homestead, Florida. That has developed into a very enjoyable, mindless, ritual event for me. It started as a means to better connect with my son who was a temporary NASCAR fan when in elementary school, because his best friend was a fan. Eventually Paul grew out of that interest, which was never very deep, but I had become hooked. Unfortunately, the weekend is all focused on watching the cars drive the track and there is not much reflection or meditation time. It is not an experience that requires a lot of mental activity, but it does require focus, even if somewhat mindless. Still, I have grown to enjoy it and look forward to it every year. Over Thanksgiving I enjoyed a long weekend, with a trip to Naples to have Turkey Dinner with my father-in-law. You may remember from the last post that during the trip to Naples in October I actually developed a deeper appreciation for the view from his patio as a place to meditate, reflect and blog. But that didn't develop this time in November, or on our trip over on Christmas Day. Both trips were nice and relaxing in terms of providing a break from the regular hectic schedule of daily work life. The first weekend of December also provided a break of sorts. Dianne and I traveled to Melbourne/Palm Bay to join with the Riviera UCC folks in celebrating 120 years of ministry to those two communities. This was the church I served for 9 years upon first coming to Florida when it was located in downtown Melbourne. I had very little responsibility for the weekend, just reading scripture in worship on Sunday, and enjoying their celebration banquet, greeting and visiting with old friends, on Saturday evening. It was a nice break from the regular Advent routine. This past week was nice and slow and I had a good visit with my two children, even if too brief with my son. He and his sister arrived the day after Christmas, along with Dianne's daughter, her family, and Di's brother and family for a very full day of family Christmas. Then there was worship on Sunday. But we did get to the movies twice as a family, enjoyed several videos and one game of cards, and several good dinners. Now he has gone back to Palm Bay for three days before flying back to Utah for the start of the next semester at college. His sister is returning here tomorrow for a few more days with us, along with one of her new law school buddies who needed a Florida sunshine break from the Pennsylvania winter.

The only problem with all those breaks these past two months is they were actually too many. The result was even more stress and pressure during the regular weeks of work, as all my regular work commitments had to be completed in the remaining time each month. While I really enjoyed the down time and the change of schedule, what I learn from this experience is the need for balance: I need some down time for reflection and meditation, but not too much, unless it is a large block of time taken all at once, like a week or two of vacation, or a longer retreat or continuing education event. I also need to make sure and incorporate at least a brief period for reflecting and writing those reflections so that the time takes on more depth and, especially when I do have a meaningful reflection like I did several times on some of the long drives, I don't lose those thoughts to the ether.

Anyway, while I missed November with a post, here is one for December, a final one for 2009, and I am saving some thoughts for tomorrow morning and hopefully my first post for 2010. Happy New Year!

Another type of mini-sabbatical

"We have lost the ability and time to reflect on our lives today." With these words Ted Runions opened the retreat for the Board of Directors of the Florida Conference United Church of Christ which I recently attended. Everything proceeds at such an accelerated pace, yet we have less time, because we are expected to do more than we used to do. He reminded us that a “retreat” is a gift of time to stop, reflect, and think about what we are doing, why we are doing it, and how it is done. His opening comments reminded me of the purpose of a sabbatical. They also brought to mind how much I treasured and enjoyed the four-month gift of time to do just that in my own life. The longer I am back, the more I try to schedule and create such a time to reflect on my own life in the regular schedule of my days with increasing difficulty and frustration, the more I realize what a truly precious gift were those four months in 2008. Increasingly I feel like the crazy woodpecker who has taken to beating his head against the window in front of my desk. The bird must see its reflection and is either attacking this "other" bird which it feels is a threat, or is trying to make contact, but just keeps banging into this hard glass. I keep trying to find time in my daily routine to write in my journal, or write on my blog, or just sit and think. But it just does not happen. My days are filled with work duties, family duties, and when there appears to be time in the evening, I am often just too tired to focus beyond the television, or bed. I am very thankful that I keep finding small blocks of time, like my father's funeral weekend, or this Board of Director's Retreat weekend, to step away from my regular schedule. And I do some reflecting during those times. But it does not feel as if they are enough to deeply, richly feed my soul.

The Board of Directors' retreat was a sort of mini-sabbatical. Not only did it allow time for reflecting on the work of the Board and on my role with the Board, but the facilitator also helped us identify our Myers-Briggs Personality Types (I am an INFJ) toward the end of helping us clarify the personality of the Board of Directors and giving us some insight how this information can help in our work and functioning as a group. This personal information, however, also provided me an opportunity to engage in some personal reflection. I gained some new insight and recalled some old insight, into my personality type and I was able to reflect somewhat on why I am the way I am and revisit some understanding about how I function and what it most healthy for me. For instance, it was reinforced for me one more time, in one more way, that as an "I" (introvert) type, I draw my energy from time alone. Thus, it is vitally important for me to have quiet time to reflect, to be alone, in order to be re-energized. My daily solo walks are important. Time to write would be a very important positive exercise for me. I have been learning and claiming all these insights in many ways the past 8 months. This was one more confirmation about this self-knowledge. The trick is, as I initially stated, finding and claiming the time to commit to these activities.

Pastor as Poet Needs Time for Reflection

Since returning from my Sabbatical there has been an increasing restlessness and dis-ease in my soul. I returned to work with renewed energy. I was well rested; my mind and my spirit were rejuvenated. My stress level was greatly lowered and my ability to cope with stress without unhealthy reactions was improved.

However, as I move further along in my work as pastor, I find it difficult to keep my attention and my energy focused. Initially I attributed this to the difficulty of returning to work routine after four months away from that routine. But it has been three-plus months back at the routine (almost as long as the entire sabbatical had been) and those difficulties persist, instead of lessening.

Today I read an article on the Christian Century web-site which struck a chord deep within and perhaps begins to help me identify something of what may be going on. The article is excerpted from M. Craig Barnes's book The Pastor as Minor Poet, published by Eerdmans. Barnes teaches at Pittsburgh Theological Seminary and he presents another way of viewing the role and work of the local church pastor: as a poet. He is not advocating for us to write verse, but rather describing our calling with the analogy. Here is a brief excerpt from the article.

In contrast to the biblical and theological poets, the pastoral poet has the unique calling of making sense of their words in light of the dust and grit of daily life in a parish. And unlike those whom society has traditionally revered as poets, whose vision of the deeper reality is nurtured through quiet sanctuary, if not isolation, the pastor-poet lives with a crowded and noisy soul. Central to what it means to be ordained is to open the doors of one's soul to the complexities, pathos, longings and even sins of those the pastor has vowed to serve.

At the same time, the pastor is even more attentive to the unapparent presence of God among the people of the congregation. One of the reasons that people need pastors is precisely that God is always present but usually not apparent. It takes a poet to find that presence beneath the layers of strategy for coping with the feeling of its absence. Thus, the parish minister's soul becomes a crucible in which sacred visions are ground together with the common and at times profane experiences of human life. Out of this sacred mix, pastors find their deep poetry, not only for the pulpit but also for making eternal sense out of the ordinary routines of the congregation.

Pastors' days are filled with committee meetings that never end and accomplish little; confirmation classes with kids who can't be cool unless they look bored; races across town to make a hospital call, only to discover that the patient was just discharged (You're not getting credit for this one); counseling sessions with people who don't like their jobs but can't afford to quit them because they need them to afford lifestyles they don't really like either; funerals where they fight back their tears long enough to lead worship; weddings where they fight back aggressive photographers; conflicts with people who just won't leave the church; and the relentless return of Sundays that demand another profound sermon. And through it all, the attentive pastor is constantly spinning the poetry, helping the congregation to see the sacred subtext of their lives.

As poets, pastors are always looking for a portal that invites passage into a deeper, more mysterious—and thus true—understanding of what is seen. …

What if, instead of working so hard at omnicompetence, pastors were free to work hard simply at being better poets? And is it possible that the call to parish ministry can come not at the expense of our souls, but at their delight—the joy known only by those who can behold mystery and truth at work just beneath the surface of all the belief and all the reality of parish life?

One of the things learned on my sabbatical was the importance for me, as pastor, to have time to reflect on life, on the world, on the church. Without realizing it, I tapped into the importance of the pastor as poet, who “is always looking for a portal that invites passage into a deeper, more mysterious – and thus true – understanding of what is seen.” But to nurture that role, we need time. And the modern pastoral schedule does not allow for that sort of reflective, meditative, time. I am usually lucky to find a few minutes a day for quiet prayer! (Actually, I have been very good about maintaining the discipline of my daily four mile walk to the bay which provides me about 80 minutes of solitude and quiet time for prayer and meditation as I walk. It may also be part of the time necessary for me to use for poetic reflection.)

It is not easy to reclaim one’s schedule in order to direct it more for “poetic reflection” than for “technocratic managerial” tasks. Everything in our culture entices us and draws us toward “omnicompetence” and a technician mentality that approaches life as a problem for which we just need to identify the right solution, the right formula to correct and improve it, the right script.

The attitude and view of the poet, however, is an embracing of life to fully drink it in, fully absorb it, and then begin to understand the deeper meanings above, below, and within. Life is not a problem to be corrected, but a wonderful ride, or marvelous adventure, to be experienced fully through complete and total immersion. The poet does not shy away from pain, or try to mask or cover-up the sorrow and suffering, but embraces these experiences, too, as fully part of what it means to be alive.

Perhaps my restlessness arises from a need deep in my soul for this sort of exploration and embracing of life. While on sabbatical I uncovered once again my love for writing, especially free-flowing, reflective writing, and I discovered how nurturing this practice is for my soul. Since I have been back to work it has been difficult to find the time to spend at my computer, or with my journal, pen in hand, and just write freely about … anything… and everything. Whether my schedule and responsibilities allow for me to fully do so or not, clearly I need to consciously commit to nurturing my poet!