travel advisory

“When thou dost purpose aught, within thy power,
Be sure to do it, though it be but small:
Constancy knits the bones, and makes us stour
When wanton pleasures beckon us to thrall.”

~ George Herbert, Conduct


Routines, habits, and their observation have had their places in these pages. During this season, I'm reminded of distinctions between perfunctory and passion. As children, many of us recall fretting about what I call the haftas and the wannas. This is to say when what has to be accomplished obstructs what is so much more desirable. By adolescence, I'd begun to learn the discipline of attacking the haftas with gusto, looking forward to enjoying the wannas, once I’d successfully reach those hospitable shores. When certain obligations tend to require dragging my will and tail, they may be done according to the usual high standards, notwithstanding a few wreckingball swings through opaque reluctance. Then there are other matters, often more demanding than quotidian obligations, that I regularly seem to find the requisite energy to pursue. Seeking out new ideas and inspiration is essentially congruent to my pilgrimage travels. A search is in progress, and there isn’t a moment to be lost.

When we cannot choose enough details in our adventures, we may at least convert conditions into enlightening experiences. It is exceedingly worthwhile to continue discovering meaning and expression amidst the ephemeral. Intrinsic to the spiritual life is an insistence upon finding what is good in unconducive times. Search for pearls in the desert, and for the worthy in the wastelands. And day after day, the energy to persevere must be found. Recently, I was reminded once more of the benefits found in good company. Early one Saturday morning was a breakfast with one group of friends, and dinner that evening was still another meal with yet another group of friends. Exchanging stories amounted to discoveries of goodness I might not have otherwise noticed. Granted, much of the talk referred to these difficult times and how no end is in sight. Yet we continue and we carry on with cheer. Walking home, I wondered if the cheer is necessarily contingent upon any conditions. The quest for one’s passions may indeed be intensified by adversities. With this in mind, the Lenten journey implies an insistence upon discerning goodness and not permitting the negatory to implant lasting impressions.

The call of the Spirit to the soul is surely not aimless. Inquiry implies discovery. We continue to search because we continue to find, and thus driven onward. Even in my lesser moments, there is nothing more appealing than to aspire and continue. Now I’m remembering the portion of John’s gospel in which many perplexed disciples have drawn back from Christ, unwilling to risk another ounce of trust. Too much looks too frighteningly out of control. At this crossroads, Simon Peter spoke the immortal “to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.” As I can only choose to journey onward, in a sense I haven’t a choice. What else could I do, having absorbed the words and the Spirit that speak directly to my condition, even the evidence of things unseen. We search because we’ve discovered, and we find because we’ve been recognized. It is as though one must hope and strive; beyond the precipice there is no choice- turning back has lost its lure. It may appear that we are driving our explorations, but indeed the source is as palpable as it is covert. Perhaps that explains an individual’s relentless quest for their creation, their origins, their purposes.

Though driven forward, the spiritual voyager is somehow both navigator and passenger. And the journey is not reluctantly pursued: surely more wanna than hafta- if anything, a vital gotta. The pursuit of holiness and knowledge ironically evolves into something less self-centered and more outward-looking. The grand voyage becomes a great travel with waystations for appreciation of detailed instances and sweeping landscapes alike. My work as an archivist reminds me that understanding must rely upon context, and that events and observations take shape in a developing succession. Like the search to discover, questions and answers evolve in an organic rotation such that a stumbling soul derives just enough reinforced direction to be able to advance. The desire to proceed and learn might be considered a grace, a gift recognized through an enjoyment of the cultivating continuum. What else could I do, but be grateful for the persistence to discover and the appetite for the light of the Spirit.

Last week, I participated in a pilgrimage gathering in Montréal, as a musician, for the twelfth consecutive year. Between there, here, and many points farther afield, I’ve made countless similar travels over tens of thousands of miles- often in challenging driving conditions, always at my own expenses, and each single time an invigorating joy. The adventures are golden occasions, replete with conviviality and insight. In a discussion, Brother Emile of Taizé spoke about daring to live by a trusting faith, instead of being driven by fearfulness. “Plus profond du mal, il y a la bonté,” he added- meaning that far deeper and more powerful than hardship, there is goodness. He put forth an open sentence that his prior liked to ask: “When we set forth with a trusting heart...” It is a statement for the listener to complete. I pencilled these notes at my music stand, sometimes using the top of my classical guitar as a support. The road home included a visibility-blocking snowstorm. It was not surprising, and I had no regrets- even as I had to slowly drive through the adverse conditions. Perhaps a heart that trusts can become capable of sculpting circumstances into worthwhile adventures. The great challenge is to do so consistently and meaningfully.

The image below is the song list for the Taizé Pilgrimage of Trust, held in Montreal in 2007 (I always write down the music lists in my journal!). This unusally large gathering was broadcast on the radio. The prior, Brother Aloïs of Taizé (France) spoke to all in attendance, as well as Cardinal Jean-Claude Turcotte (Montréal).

fourth and go forth

“My Journal is that of me
which would else spillover and run to waste,
gleaning from the field which in action I reap.
I must not live for it, but in it”

~ Henry David Thoreau, Diary entry, February 8, 1841


Some unusual hot weather is hurrying the summer toward its midpoint, though it slows my paces and thought processes. The other day while speaking with a friend about journaling, I heard myself say that “no written mark is without meaning.” It reminded me of an instance, years ago, when my best friend tried to console my incredulous heartbroken self with “no gesture of sincere love is wasted.” Maybe so. But of journaling, to say that every thoughtful intention is of consequence and importance is surely beneath the papered layers of personal writing. Further, this idea was part of what motivated me to set forth my journaled musings on a blog four years ago.

By speaking on one’s own behalf, a healing path may be hewn out of wilderness. The first attempts were on the one free utility I knew at the time (mid-2006), which was MySpace. With the prominence and easy flexibility of Blogger, I moved to the latter, though continued posting to both sites for about a year- noticing two very different sets of responding audiences. Trying not to think too much about readership, I consolidated the blog- though I’ve been very grateful to readers, to being included in the eclectic Typosphere, for the various awards and publications. It’s all encouragement to persevere. The important thing has been to continue the journey. Among the benefits is deciding to appreciate landmarks in time.


Gratefully, I grew away from some of the blog’s early intent. Struggling with ignominy was at least enough to strike a spark, but then the idea of exulting in being unknown revealed freedom and comfort in navigating through blessed unknowing. And therein lies another essential to journaling: the action of writing through perplexities and hardships. Subjects must be brought above the status of conversation pieces; they need to be lived experiences. Even the recollections of past events occur in the real-time of journaling. Written words follow, and sometimes parallel, living; and that includes retrospection. Through pilgrimages and workweeks alike there is an inner voyage to document, observations, aspirations, and reminders not to lose sight of the human longing for advancement. The interior kind of pilgrimage is accompanied by outer progress. Cultivating perception corresponds with perseverance, which cultivates perception.

Trying to imagine “what is next” is almost antithetical to the idea of writing the journey. It seems the best thing is to write and not subject too much thought to this. Admittedly I heard myself say (my contribution to the world of writing prompts) that too much emphasis on the present can subvert a view to the future. To take stock and to cherish are fine things, but these must coexist with hopes and projects. An elder friend recently asked me, “what are your dreams?” It still surprises me how difficult that is to answer. Turn the page and re-ink that pen. Why not reclaim the aspect of “unreasonable” dreaming? Make wishes that needn’t be precluded by preconceptions of what’s possible and what isn’t. Alas, a detrimental by-product of endurance is the disabling of aspiration such that the outset is entangled in limitations. This leaves the narrowest of margins for dreams, prayers, and active hopes. Writing should be a chance to dispel such constriction.


Posting journal essays via blogging amidst a pervasive “Web 2.0" seems like canoeing the North Atlantic. The medium itself is equated with abundance and overload. Accompanying such ubiquitousness is a detectable general sense of media fatigue. Ironically, weariness with unrelenting persistent information networks occurs simultaneously with the hunger that feeds it. Nevertheless, as for me, the writing will continue. There are always ideas and images. Distances continue to be covered. As months and years advance, memory increasingly encompasses and deepens. But reflection- particularly in writing- has a way of compressing time. Something to ponder while sharpening a quickly-shortening pencil. There are always more, and they don’t cost much. With gratitude, year five of this experiment is already underway.

publication and gratitude

sharp points

“And you live life with your arms reached out.
Eye to eye when speaking.
Enter rooms with great joy shouts,
happy to be meeting.
And bright,
bright,
bright as yellow.”

~ The Innocence Mission, Bright as Yellow.

Recently, as part of a group of traveling musicians, I shared the joyful experience of welcoming hospitality. The last, and the lengthiest, of these road trips brought me to a small and elegant church in the Berkshires. The enthusiastic welcome actually began with thanks- just as we had all arrived. Our host’s exuberance- expressed at the outset, and not after any results of our presence- was especially touching, phrased as “there will never be enough thank-you’s, so I’ll start right now!” This brimming graciousness was disarmingly earnest and entirely pleasant. Now, in reflection, I can recall when I have either witnessed or felt this kind of abundant, overflowing, and extraordinary gratitude. Such profound expression may be occasional, but its roots are in everyday graces. Manifesting grateful acknowledgments may rest on the surface, with handshakes, written notes, and tokens. Unusual exceptions, such as I’d seen the other day, remind me of something beyond those fine and courteous practices. When a gesture seems closed-ended, we may decide to express our gratitude with our lives. Becoming our gratefulness needn’t necessarily imply overt emotion. More than anything, it is a communicating of this spirit in ways that comprehend the context of wherever we are- silent and festive alike. The depths of our own mysteries are visited, when gratitude overflows to the point that we sense the insufficiency of our words. It’s similar to the impatience we experience when we try to wish away worries or hasten a healing process with our intentions. Willing spirits find creative expressions.

The continuity that follows my desire to express appreciation, more than surface recognition, is the hope to live this gratitude. How do we carry ourselves and move through this world with a conscientious sense of reverence? Advancing from impressions, it is a challenge of faith to set forth from what we initially articulate. Living a spirit of gratitude imposes neither occasion nor space. Among other things, this means exercising myself to understand that which is difficult to accept. Cut loose the old grievances and grudges; shred the catalogues of misdeeds, and delete the read-only migrated files that take away space from the new. Part of the learning is posing the simplest questions, when noticing myself complaining in the face of goodness, asking “what’s good about this?” or “what’s good about today, this person, that job, this situation?” Graciousness may be expressed silently, and if we consider eternity as our goal, the need to be the last word dissipates and thankful intercessions for others will find their expression in our most unseen recesses. A gratefulness to God can be reflected as reverence and respect for all that lives and gives life. As acknowledgment for another person, it is compassion for that person’s sake- and for whom and what they may hold dear. Appreciation is openness and expanse of heart. We can be active witnesses to those who bear witness to us! And we can gratefully accept the unpredictable nature of our responses to graces we daren’t expect.

For the moment, I am very simply grateful for this time and space in which I can write at my warmly-lit desk, while outside the rain and wind pelt and beat upon the windows. As my thoughts turn through the topic of thankfulness, I think immediately of my friends. My companions and mentors are light-bearers along this broadening and humbling pilgrimage, and their influences transcend time. “So great a cloud of witnesses,” expressed so well by the ancient apostle Paul, encompasses us about such that we are freed by their inspiration to rise above all that weighs us down. To his friends in Philippi, he gratefully began his discourse with, “I thank my God upon every remembrance of you.” Remembering encouraging souls is a source of assurance. Progress comes through unity, not isolation. When I think of the kindred souls and guiding elders for whom I continually give thanks, there follows the wonder of the gifts of their accompanying presences- through the years and now. Even while writing in silence, I am aware of their company. A way of caring for those dear to me is to profoundly respect their lives, personalities, and memories. Always giving thanks, upon every remembrance.

graphite bright

A very colorful Christmas season to all,

and a sharpened New Year !