9/01/2003 - 9/30/2003

Thursday, September 25, 2003
As I look out the car, I see leaves turning color. Some are already falling, swirling past the windshield. The cool crispness of early morning air fills my lungs. Autumn is here. It is safe to go out. Bears come out after winter, CJ comes out after summer. Summer means people outside, shouting, playing loud music, darting past. Summer means little cloud cover, incessant sun. A high buzz of energy rushes around, no place to land.Autumn is my time. A deeper, quieter energy is in the air. People begin to go indoors. The pathways hold the promise of solitude. The light no longer hurts my eyes. Colorful walks, hot coffee-warming hands, Halloween. Autumn is the time of preparation. Time to prepare for winter, the test. I spend my time practicing the art of constant prayer. Constant is not what I would call my prayer practice yet, but awareness is increasing. Each moment holds a new promise. As many Christians remember “what would Jesus do?” for each action, I try to be ever present of “what matters for eternity?” for each moment of consciousness. Each moment can be held for God: grateful, adoring, loving. Or each thought can be held for remembering petty slights, practicing ego defense, and forming harsh words that hurt. With each breath I try to remember what I am breathing for.
Posted by: CJ / 7:13 PM
Friday, September 19, 2003
A young reader writes to the Job Advice columnist in the local paper. She asks how much income do artists receive as she is considering entering the field but doesn’t want to starve. The columnist responds, if you have to ask, then it is not for you. Artists create because they have to; they have a calling deep within. I have known and read about artists earning a meager wage, living in humble dwellings, eating Top Ramen, just to have time for that which calls from within. The world’s opinion does not matter; they swim against the current. I am blessed to know two such people.Laura is a writer. The written word compels her, enchants her, and gives her breath. She has a life within bursting to be set free. She accepts the sacrifice that accompanies the gift of creativity. She recently stepped down from a managerial position to a bookseller at work, with less pay and hours, to ensure she has time for her greatest loves; her husband and her science fiction writing. She is shaking off security like a coat that is too heavy with rain. She needs to be light enough to walk the high wire, to breath rarefied air, to touch the clouds. Joshua is an artist of the mind. He is leaving the Barnes & Noble family to pursue a dream. He needs to be alone, totally alone, to reign in his mind and experience higher planes of consciousness. At the end of September he will be taking only his backpack into southern California to live in the wild, alone. He wants no interruptions, distractions, anything that can interfere with perfecting the martial and meditation arts. He is challenged to live a monk’s existence, to be free from the confines of a society. He is not aware that what he pursues, others would call a sacrifice, a loss. The voice within, that the rest of us cannot hear, draws him near.Their courage inspires.
Posted by: CJ / 8:21 PM
Posted by: CJ / 5:32 PM
Friday, September 12, 2003
I am what I am and that’s all that I am.PopeyeA father kneels down beside an angry, hurt child. He patiently waits until the child has stamped her feet, cried her tears. She quiets down, becomes aware of the world around her. She looks up at her father and is quiet. The father gathers her near and whispers in her ear. “I love you just the way you are. I love you when you are angry. I love you when you are sad. When you are ready to listen, hear I am.” The child heaves a big sigh and falls into his arms, ready.As a teenager, my prayers pleaded to be shown what my mission, purpose, reason for being was. How do I serve God? Was I to be a prophet, move mountains, save the world? Through quiet listening, meditation, I have heard . . . whispered . . . that I am loved the way I am. I am asked only to love others with a grateful heart. To be a reflection of his love.
Posted by: CJ / 11:06 PM
Thursday, September 04, 2003
Austin asked me the other day how I was doing on my goal in life. To be truthful, I had not thought about it since we moved to Seattle. When he was younger and became aware that everyone has a job and that a job usually defines a person in our culture, he would pester me about my goal in life. Now, I have never had a job title as my goal in life. I thought about his question and decided the best description of my life's goal, passion, was the following: To be that ancient looking woman that lives just outside of town in an old shack. She wears faded, patched clothing, her hair is rarely combed, her needs are few. At first, one thinks she is crazy, but upon conversation one realizes she is very wise, the kind of wisdom that comes from a lifetime lived. My mother knows this woman as Dirty Sally, from an old western. Others know this woman as the shaman, witch, in every tribe or the quiet ancient one who sits in the back pew of the Church that the minister fears will comment. She is my end goal. A sage, a mystic, a fool for God.Austin's question whizzed through me like a lightening bolt, searing me wide awake. The past two years should be used to fuel my passion, to help me on my path. I choose the overgrown path, the one with boulders blocking the way. This boulder required two years to climb over. I am ready to resume my walk towards my shack, my cave, my briar patch.Jesuits believe God talks to us in coincidences. I believe Austin's question was no accident. God is done waiting for me to pick myself up, dust off, and get moving again.As a result of Austin's question, I have spent much time journaling about the past two years, writing down lessons learned, focusing on my spiritual needs. I miss Father Paul, my spiritual advisor in Anchorage. Going alone is hard work.
Posted by: CJ / 7:11 PM