wherever I go, there I am....

13 May, 2024, Lacey, Washington, St. Martin’s Abbey

 

A week of traveling and visiting as I broke up the trip from the desert southwest to the Pacific northwest. I went up from Tucson to Phoenix last Sunday to spend some days with my family, which was as comforting as always. Dina got me two days’ worth of free passes to a very swanky gym in Arcadia called “The Village,” I got to see my nephew Aeson play baseball twice, once at the Homerun Derby on Sunday night and then a real game on Monday. Maybe others wouldn’t notice as much, but I found it quite a contrast from my normal life to be immersed in Little League culture, with all that that entails. I actually really got into the game, the first time in a long, long time I’ve been part of any sporting event. It helped that Aeson caught the winning pop fly to center field at the game. It was also his 12^th birthday on Tuesday, so I got to celebrate that, and of course hang out with Mom and spend lots of time chatting with Dina and Steve. Now that Dad is gone and Mom only has a studio apartment, Dina’s house is kind of like home for me in Phoenix, and they makes me feel totally at home.

     I am intentionally driving rather than flying (and later taking trains whenever possible) for various reasons (besides the fact that I love to drive), but also being very intentional about not doing any breakneck distances so it stays pleasant. I left Wednesday noon from AZ and drove to just outside Riverside, CA. It’s notable to me how you can find very affordable hotel/motel rooms, especially at the last minute, if your standards aren’t too high. The next day I had a long interesting drive to Sonoma. My GPS took me on a rather circuitous route through the desert to connect me to I-5 from I-10, long stretches on two lane roads, at times not another car for miles, through Palmdale and Lancaster, and then up the 5, to CA12 and across to 80 and into Sonoma. 

I’ve treated myself to two audio books while I’m driving; someone sent me the record producer Rick Rubin’s interview with Jon Kabat-Zinn from Rubin’s podcast Tetragrammaton, which I thoroughly enjoyed and listened to twice. RR is interviewing JKZ about the 30^th anniversary re-issue of Kabat-Zinn’s book Wherever You Go There You Are. I had never read the book, though I was aware of JKZ’s work with teaching mindfulness meditation and his work with Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction (MBSR). I was so impressed by their conversation that I downloaded both of their books on my phone, the 30^th anniversary edition of Wherever You Go and Rick Rubin’s highly praised book from last year, The Creative Act. I suddenly realized that between the two of them they were encompassing my two favorite pastimes––music and meditation. Actually, I remember an exchange I had with the guy who forwarded the podcast to me (whose anonymity I will protect) during which I said to him, “You know what I think the solution is? More music and more meditation.” And he said to me, “You think that is the solution to every problem!” Well, ya. I still do. 

My only problem with audio books while driving is I get very frustrated not being able to underline the passage or dog-ear the page. JKZ’s book especially is highly quotable with an enormous amount of practical advice for the would-be meditator, beginner or long-time practitioner. He tells the story of how he got started when he was studying microbiology at MIT. In 1965 Huston Smith (yes, that Huston Smith) was teaching World Religions there at the time and had invited the Sōtō Zen Roshi Philip Kapleau to come and speak, who is considered one of the founding fathers of American Zen. JKZ was one of only three people in the audience and he said it “blew the top of his head off.” He then went on to say that you shouldn’t start talking to other people about meditation when you are a newcomer to the practice, “maybe for the first 20 or 30 years”! I almost drove off the road laughing.

My next big stop was to Skyfarm. Michaela and Francis and I were so close and spent so much time together during my Santa Cruz years, but I think I have only been able to be with them three times since I moved back to Big Sur in 2012. Now, blessedly, we have had three times together already during this sabbatical time. The added feature and the reason to make the diversion and add a day on to the journey northwest is that our friend Romuald Roberts was to be coming down from Oregon for his regular visit south just as I was making my way north. Rom is a gentle giant of a man, another former Camaldolese monk of Big Sur, like Francis, who was very close to Fr. Bruno in the ‘80s. Again like Francis, and Michaela, he came under the influence of Fr. Bede and India, consequently left and has been continuing the monastic-contemplative path on his own these many years. Romji also comes from some royal lineage: Alan Watts, the famous English writer and lecturer on Taoism, Buddhism and Hinduism, was his uncle through marriage. The three of them had traveled to India together after leaving their respective communities and have remained close. As I told them, again I feel as one untimely born, as St. Paul described himself, and I listen with rapt attention as they tell stories about these great people they spent time with. 

Rom and I arrived minutes apart and appeared up at Michaela’s hermitage together about 5 PM, and the four of us spent the next five hours talking, eating, laughing. Rom and Francis apparently stayed up until 1:30 AM and continued their visit. We all had the morning to ourselves, though Michaela took me to her gym for a workout and jacuzzi, and then introduced me to Sonoma Ashram (too much to explain, but it is a lovely place, to be re-visited). When we got back to “the farm” we had lunch together, and then celebrated a beautiful Eucharist in the famous tea room, and then dinner and more conversation until I had to get myself to bed to prepare for the long journey the next day. I wrote to someone at midday Saturday saying that when I am there with them, I understand something deep about my own vocation, one of two or three places where I feel that’s true, the unique lineage that has inspired me, my life and my own work. It’s such a relief not to have to explain yourself all the time, to be with people who read the same things you do and share the same spiritual values.

The next day was the long slog to Portland. Most of it was not too bad and it was certainly beautiful, but the last few hours, coming into Portland were a little grueling. It was full 11 hours all told, with stops. I stayed with Pedro Rubalcava. His wife Kristen was out of town and so he was bach’ing it for the weekend anyway. In addition, my goddaughter Emily, who is now a young mother herself, was in town staying with another friend, so I got see her too. Pete and I had dinner out, retired early, had a beautiful early morning Eucharist together with Emily for the Ascension (not sure if that is allowed in the Archdiocese of Portland; don’t tell, please!), before I headed off for Lacey, WA I did have a quick stop just over the border in Vancouver to see John and Mary Pennington in their beautiful new home. I am going to be housesitting there next week when I go back down for some recording dates in Portland while they are on vacation in Iceland, so they wanted to show me around, give me the passcodes, etc.

I was texting back and forth with my host Abbot Marion of St. Martin’s Abbey as I left Vancouver, and he wrote that he was actually coming up from Mount Angel with two other monks and that they were about to stop in Vancouver for lunch, and he of course invited me to meet them. So I did. Marion and I hardly know each other––we only met briefly in Rome last year––and I didn’t know much of anything at all about St. Martin’s Abbey, so that was a very nice introduction, and a delicious bowl of vegetarian Pho besides. And now here I am.

As I am wont to say, I don’t know what I was expecting, but this is not what I was expecting. The campus (they also have a university) is right in the middle of the city, providing something like a 300-acre park/respite. The campus itself is very well-kept and beautiful, the monastery is rather typical cenobium, I suppose, long halls of cells and common rooms. The chapel is a lot nicer than I was expecting, the best of the modern (read, “Vatican II”) Benedictine style, nobly simple; there is exquisite modern art all over the place. The monastic community is not quite as formal as other places I’ve been such as Mount Angel, but they are still a lot more formal than Big Sur. There are about 20 monks, the majority elderly (70+), but a good slice of younger men, including Abbot Marion himself who is only 48. I fear he has a long tenure ahead of him, but he seems very well equipped for the job. He was a diocesan priest first, lived at the NAC (North American College) in Rome but studied at the Gregorian before joining the monastery, at which point he got sent back to Rome to do monastic studies for four years. He speaks Vietnamese, English, Spanish and Italian fluently, and has a good working knowledge of French. He’s a bundle of energy and has been very gracious in welcoming me. It’s always interesting for me to be with another monastic community, especially a “normal” Benedictine one. It makes me realize how eccentric the Camaldolese are, but also makes me treasure our unique charism too.

My conferences start tonight. This is the second of five retreats I am offering between May and early June, and no two of them are going to be the same material, it seems. I wasn’t exactly sure what material to use with these men, but I’ve decided to revisit the kenosis theme of The God Who Gave You Birth (hoping not too many here have read that book!). But it’s still good to have had a day to watch and listen, discern who and where the audience is, in every sense of that phrase.

music and friendship (and some pious claptrap) in the heart of the desert

 3 May, Feast of Philip & James

 

I am currently “In the Heart of the Desert.” (If you don’t catch the reference, that’s the magical first album I did in collaboration with John Pennington back in 1998-1999, the one that got us started on the new musical trajectory together.) I’m at Picture Rocks, just outside of Tucson, at the Redemptorist Renewal Center, for the second time helping with the what-has-become-annual OCP Songwriters’ retreat, organized by my long-time dear friend and brother Tom Booth. His idea at the origin of this was just what it says, to get some of the newer songwriters in OCP’s catalogue together and do both some spiritual formation as well as “workshop” some songs in collaboration with other artists. I’ll write more about that below.

I drove here from the Bay Area Monday and Tuesday, over 1000 miles, staying the night partway in beautiful downtown Blythe, CA. When I was at the Hermitage for the Triduum and Easter, as per the deal I worked out with the brothers (that if I came home for Holy Week they would loan me a car for a month; John Pennington teased me this morning about how “transactional” I was…), I was supposed to leave the community’s 2011 Prius in Monterey for someone to fetch later. But when we were working out the details for that fetching, it was suggested that I just keep the car for another month. I warned them that I needed to drive some good distances with it (first here to AZ and then all the way up to Seattle and back down to California), but they seemed to think the car could handle those miles and they don’t really need it with the roads closed. I was all set to rent a car for the trip, but finally agreed to the plan which will save a lot of money. 

And so, the Mighty Prius and I made our way across the desert, stopping briefly for a little deviation to visit with Paul Ford and Janice Daurio in Camarillo. Being that close (right off the 101) it seemed a shame not to take advantage of the opportunity. That stop actually wound up adding several hours to the trip since I got caught in heavy traffic around Riverside, but no problem. I made it to Blythe by 8 PM, got a surprisingly good Chinese takeout meal and a good night’s sleep, and I made it to Tucson by lunch time Tuesday. All of which included driving into the glorious sunrise over the desert.

It's been a bit of a shock to my system to be here. I spent the last month in a solitary retreat at the Jesuit Retreat House in Los Altos. There is an apartment up at the top of the beautiful property in which I had made an eight-day retreat two years ago, and at that time had decided that when I made my post-priorship sabbatical I would like to spend an extended time there, and the Jesuits were very accommodating. It’s only a living room and a bedroom with a shared kitchen. I moved in the day after Easter and, as was the plan all along, I set up three microphones and my rudimentary recording equipment in half of the bedroom, with the plan to record my guitar and vocal tracks for at least two upcoming recording projects. Most days I got up at normal monk hours, did my meditation, went to the nearby gym (hence the luxury of having the car) where I got a workout, usually a sauna or jacuzzi, and some yoga in the studio, back home for breakfast care of the retreat center and morning prayer––and then got behind the microphones for two to three hours. Lunch break, nap and prayer, and then back to the microphones (or post-production stuff) for a few hours before evening prayer and a light dinner on my own. 

It was a marvelous experience, the first time I have ever combined that kind of intentional spiritual practice with recording. I took the weekends off, did a very minimum of socializing with friends who knew I was in the area, had a nice Sunday run every week at a nearby reservoir and one nice hike with a friend. Other than that, I was all on my own for three out of the four weeks. The last week I had errands and appointments and had a couple more visits, and I had delightful dinner with the Jesuit community one night. 

I had been planning on going to Italy to begin the Europe leg of the year in August, doing a good long retreat time at the Sacro Eremo before launching into my engagements in the fall. But it all went so well, and I was so relaxed and content, that I asked the Jesuits if I could reserve another month in the apartment. So, after the late spring/early summer travels and “work” I will be back there in late July. I am very happy about that. (I am intentionally putting the word “work” in scare quotes, remembering something I heard once: “If you love what you are doing you will never work a day in your life.” And so far this year, I simply love everything I am doing.)

The OCP Songwriters’ retreat… This is the third one. I came for the second one in January 2023 and offered two talks, presided at Eucharist and did a musical performance for the group. I am not coming as one of the participating songwriters, but I am honored that Tom asked me to not only do some teaching/formation last year, but also that he wanted them to hear my music. It is not a place for showcasing any particular artist. I remember last year, I did the first talk on integral spirituality in the morning, and then presided at a Mass sort of in the ashram style. We sat throughout in a beautiful wood floored room that used to be a zendo, some of us on the floor, and I prepared all music that I could lead even while presiding––“essentially vocal music,” as we Psallite people like to call it, some bhajans and acclamations from India, a few Psallite pieces and of course all the presider’s chants and dialogues. In this musical culture, heavily influenced by Praise & Worship music, the notion of chanting seems to have been somewhat neglected. Then I did the second presentation. If in the morning those gathered looked like they had been through a wind tunnel, by the afternoon they were very engaged, and we had some great discussions. And then to be asked to present my music was a real honor. This year there were several of the younger generation who are familiar with my music as far back at my first album, “Lord of Field and Vine” (1983), including the music if my band LUKE St. (Someone was singing “Prometheus” and “Maybe When I’m an Old Man” from that era today at lunch.) But last year I was an unknown quantity. And I have to say it went very, very well. And certainly very different from anything any of them are doing. I didn’t do much liturgical music, mostly the sacred world music. I thought they had had enough, but Tom brought me back by popular demand, this time in addition to two formation talks and presiding once again at the Eucharist (in very much the same style), serving as an unofficial spiritual director for the group.

The best part of the week, to be honest, is that this year some of my best an oldest music friends––and just plain best friends––were here, besides Tom, Pedro Rubalcava, John Pennington and Rick Modlin. Jaime Cortez, my guitar guru, even came down from Mesa for 24 hours. It was such a consolation to be sitting with these guys, all of us about the same age (I am the oldest by a month, Rick the youngest by 8 years), laughing and swapping stories with such instant ease and rapport. Oh my goodness. The talks went very well, as did the Eucharist again, and the several appointments I had with individuals were moving and profound. I am yet again moved by two things. One, just how much pain, how many wounds, people are carrying––we never know! All the more reason to err on the side of gentleness and kindness. And two: how courageous and resilient people are. My own petty problems pale in comparison with some of the issues that were shared.

We (John, Rick and I) did perform one piece of music. There was a song-sharing (no one wanted to call it a “concert”) last night, open to other guests. Tom asked me to do something with John to open the evening, and of course we wanted to include Rick, so we did a pretty nice, though unrehearsed, version of “This Is Who You Are (Litany of the Person).” I really wanted to showcase Rick and John’s talents and they can really stretch on that piece. I guess I also wanted the participants to see the sonic possibilities as well as extraordinary musical talent of those two brought to the service of sacred music. When we break into the, as John likes to call it, rhythmic modulation––going from 3/4 to 12/6 without every losing the downbeat; and then when Rick starts improvising at the end (not to mention me scatting over the top of the B section––I admit this time, as in the past, even I got goosebumps.

I realize that I have a very unique spiritual path––the combination of Camaldolese monastic and interreligious––but I felt acutely this time as if I am from a different world in almost every way from most of these musicians. There are some extraordinary musicians in the group, for sure. The skills of Sara hart and Thomas Muglia particularly stuck out for me. Though there were obviously some identifiable individual traits to  the songs that were presented, there was a commonality to the sound musically, a certain style of singing that was shared by several (often with just a hint of a southern accent even if they were not from the south and a way of biting off the end of the last word in a line), and a common lexicon to their texts as well. I was talking to my friends about this too, and they concurred. The best I can make out is it’s heavily influenced by the Praise & Worship music that comes out of Nashville. The word “worship” came up a lot, a word that obviously applies to liturgy, but I would hazard to say is not the central motif of liturgy (as a matter of fact one of my regular formation lectures on liturgy is entitled “From Ritual to Worship to Liturgy). And also “adoration” came up a lot, music that could be sung at Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament. I wonder if  Catholic musicians of this generation have moved back to devotional spirituality and somewhat away from liturgical spirituality, and why.

This group of musicians has become a real loving community of friends after three gatherings, and they are very sincere, talented, and devout people. I don’t know if I will ever be with them again, but I was glad to offer what I could, hear their songs and stories, and share mine.

 

Pedro is staying on through the weekend, lodging over at Booth’s house, because the International Mariachi Festival is taking place this weekend in Tucson. The two of them went with Tom’s lovely wife Tammy to that tonight and I will join them tomorrow for some of that. Tom and I are also going to look at some of the tracks I recorded last month for fine tuning, and then we will all celebrate Eucharist together Sunday before I head up to Phoenix to spend some days with my family. The Redemptorists were kind enough to let me stay here at the retreat house through the weekend. The building I am in is the same one that houses the zendo/meditation hall, but removed from the other hubbub of activity, though there is a meditation group here this weekend too. 

Tonight I had dinner with my friends Tessa Bielecki and Dave Denny, formally of the Sedona and Crestone Carmelites, both of whom are writers, now living just a few miles from here. We of course had a marvelous conversation about lo these many things. We know so many people in common and were dreaming of us all being together someday, along with Adam Bucko and Francis and Michaela of Skyfarm, this side of heaven. For now, so grateful for all the love and inspiration in my life, to be surrounded by such a great cloud of spiritual pilgrims, young energy, dedication, devotion and enthusiasm, and wise fellow travelers. 

 

Some things I’ve been thinking about…

First, the two talks I gave were based on two essays I’ve been working on, the first “A Body You Have Prepared For Me,” all about Mary, the annunciation and the visitation, and how central the flesh is to the whole Christian story. The second is entitled “Empty Words, Pious Claptrap, and Undigested Glop.” I don’t really have the explain what that one is about perhaps (empty words, pious claptrap, and undigested glop), but the subtitle of it is “On Authority and Love.” As I was rehearsing it, I kept wanting to slip a remark in about “Christian values,” which has become a kind of buzzword (if not an out and out dog whistle) in the political realm. I hesitated from adding it in specifically for that reason––knowing that there would be a wide range of ideologies at this gathering and not wanting to provoke a political debate. But it had left me wondering what exactly those Christian values were. Listening to the political discourse and how this term gets bandied about, you’d think it mainly meant protection of the traditional nuclear family and fighting against all the concomitant issues around sexuality––abortion, gay marriage, transgender rights, etc. (Honestly at times it seems like “the right to bear arms” gets thrown in there too as a Christian value.)

Sure enough, the phrase got brought up several times in discussions, almost as if I had put it in the air myself by thinking about it so much. One time it came up directly in regards the upcoming election and who to vote for. I went to bed that evening really wrestling with it, wanting to articulate my own belief, and what I came up with for Christian values was the seven corporal works of mercy, based on Matthew 25: feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, clothe the naked, give shelter to travelers, visit the sick, visit the imprisoned and bury the dead. And one more thing: radical inclusivity. But then, I will admit, I did an internet search to see what is now commonly considered to be the list of Christian values, and I was shocked by what came up. I recommend you do it. The first list was love, humility, kindness, peace respect, generosity, and forgiveness. Other listings were simply the fruits of the Spirit (Galatians 5:22-26): love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Others of course mention belief in God along with living a moral life and practicing what you preach. But the answer I was looking for, and this was actually the point I was making in my talk and essay, came from a place called the Oak CE Learning Foundation: “Love is a core Christian value for our schools, because in the Bible we learn that God is Love and that God showed how much he loves us and how to love others.” Is this what people mean when they use that phrase? I suggest we challenge them on it, to make sure it's not just pious claptrap. I’d love to hear someone read Galatians 5:22-26 from the floor of the House or Senate. “My esteemed colleagues, I want to ensure that this bill is rooted in the Christian values that our country was founded on: love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. With that I yield my time to the gentlewoman from Georgia.”

I was also thinking about how we Christians and the Christian tradition in general sometimes cherry-picks phrases out of the Jewish Scriptures that seem consoling and poetic, sometimes totally out of their original context.  One such is “Be still and know that I am God” from Psalm 46, a phrase that is used often as a spur for meditation, but which in context is in the midst of some very war-like imagery.

 

Come and see what the Lord has done,
    the desolations he has brought on the earth.
He makes wars cease
    to the ends of the earth.
He breaks the bow and shatters the spear;
    he burns the shields with fire.

 

Another one is Your almighty Word leapt down from heaven from your royal throne, which is used as an entrance antiphon during the Christmas season. It’s already on shaky ground if you take the mythic language literally (i.e. “leaping down from heaven”), but in its context (Wis 18:15-17) it does not really convey the reign of the servant king who blessed the peacemakers:  

 

… your all-powerful word leaped from heaven, from the royal throne…
a stern warrior carrying the sharp sword of your authentic command,
and stood and filled all things with death,
and touched heaven while standing on the earth.
Then at once apparitions in dreadful dreams greatly troubled them,
and unexpected fears assailed them.

 

Merry Christmas!

The same applies to the favored phrase about the desert from Hosea 2:14, a phrase that I of course love (there’s a song on the new Animas album based on this line) and that is the motto of this desert house of prayer. The NRSV renders it I will now persuade her, and bring her into the wilderness, and speak tenderly to her. I went back to the rest of Chapter 2 of Hosea for the first time in a while and was shocked all over again to see how strong the language is in reference to Israel, as it is throughout the Book of Hosea. At the beginning of that same chapter God says through Hosea that she should

 

… put away her whoring from her face,
   and her adultery from between her breasts, 
or I will strip her naked
   and expose her as in the day she was born,
and make her like a wilderness,
   and turn her into a parched land,
   and kill her with thirst.

There is a two-edged sword there, like the monastic cell or solitude itself: it’s a bridal chamber where God speaks tenderly to the soul, but first it’s a desert, a wilderness, a place of purification.  

With all that, still, good night from Picture Rocks, where at least tonight God is speaking tenderly to my heart.