Wednesday, August 11, 2010 by Jay T.

My wife’s mother died early this year.  She was a collector who lived just up the street  from us for almost twenty years.  The last seven months of our lives has been about stuff.  Lots of hers and some of ours.  We’ve carried truck loads of it to the recycle depot, the thrift store and the Habitat for Humanity ReStore–a shop for used building materials.  We’ve given away bunches to neighbors.  Corvallis Antiques sold lots of it before and during an estate sale.

Our floors are being refinished.  We painted the ceiling and walls first.  The living room, dining room and hallway were stripped of furniture, curtains, wall art and baseboards.  It not only stinks in that center part of the house, it echoes.  The floors are curing and giving off gas now.  We can walk through those rooms, but it gives me a headache to remain.  So I’m turned out of our house.

Time for an adventure.

For the first time since college sophomore year, I went camping on my bicycle without support.  I hauled all my own camping and cooking gear.  It worked.  I didn’t take much.  It was only an overnight turnaround to Armitage Park.  About 37 miles there.  I returned on a hilly route–to show myself I could do it, so the return was 60 miles or so.

Armitage Park still has the classic picnic grounds of my childhood–even if they’ve built a freeway bridge over the top of one end of it.  It now has a campground, which I knew about, but hadn’t seen.  It was filled with large recreational vehicles–some of them towed by semi-truck tractors.  Several pulled box trailers behind them, from which classic cars would emerge.  With a bicycle, cargo trailer and seven foot diameter tent, I felt out of place.  I didn’t have the amenities the campground expected me to be carrying.  No electrical plug.  Nothing to hook up to the sewer connection.  No shower.  Nothing to provide myself any shade on a very hot day.  But I did have a stove.  I could easily carry my book to the shade of a tree to cool off while reading.  The McKenzie River flows right by the park, with some pools to soak in.

Grace always comes to my meals, but whenever I observe her, she’s a few moments late.  So I wait expectantly, thankful for her arrival and the opportunity to remember her.  I was waiting for her before dinner at Armitage–freeze dried chili mac and fresh cucumber.  Once again, it was opened to me how this is enough.  All that I had was all that I needed right then.  Water, simple meal, warmth, simple surroundings.

For the trip, I had packed as little as I thought I could manage.  I had enough.  Amazingly, I used each piece that I packed, except the extra matches, the rain fly for the tent and the cycle repair stuff–all the items I bring but hope not to use.  I hadn’t expected to use my warm hat, overshirt and water resistant warmup jacket.  After a brisk float down the McKenzie yesterday morning, I needed them.

It was enough.  Enough to remember how little I need.

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Thursday, March 4, 2010 by Jay T.

to John Woolman–about the conclusion of Chapter VII:

I’ve been learning for quite some years (It’s not an easy lesson for me.) to accept and treasure the understanding that my own efforts and strengths are minute next to what God can do in a situation.

The poverty of spirit and inward weakness, with which I was much tried the fore part of this journey, has of late appeared to me a dispensation of kindness.  ………..I was led into a deep search, whether in all things my mind was resigned to the will of God; often querying with myself what should be the cause of such inward poverty, and greatly desiring that no secret reserve in my heart might hinder my access to the Divine fountain. In these humbling times I was made watchful, and excited to attend to the secret movings of the heavenly principle in my mind, which prepared the way to some duties that in more easy and prosperous times as to the outward, I believe I should have been in danger of omitting.

          Journal of John Woolman

It’s a reassurance that you’ve found that same experience worth making the underlying theme of this chapter.

Posted in Conversations with Remarkable Friends, Keeping low | 2 Comments »

Sunday, February 28, 2010 by Jay T.

 Dear John

In your accounts of 1760, I’m reading:

Being two days in going to Nantucket, and having been there once before, I observed many shoals in their bay, which make sailing more dangerous, especially in stormy nights; also, that a great shoal, which encloses their harbor, prevents the entrance of sloops except when the tide is up. Waiting without for the rising of the tide is sometimes hazardous in storms, and by waiting within they sometimes miss a fair wind. I took notice that there was on that small island a great number of inhabitants, and the soil not very fertile, the timber being so gone that for vessels, fences, and firewood, they depend chiefly on buying from the Main, for the cost whereof, with most of their other expenses, they depend principally upon the whale fishery. I considered that as towns grew larger, and lands near navigable waters were more cleared, it would require more labor to get timber and wood. I understood that the whales, being much hunted and sometimes wounded and not killed, grow more shy and difficult to come at.

I considered that the formation of the earth, the seas, the islands, bays, and rivers, the motions of the winds, and great waters, which cause bars and shoals in particular places, were all the works of Him who is perfect wisdom and goodness; and as people attend to his heavenly instruction, and put their trust in him, he provides for them in all parts where he gives them a being;

and as in this visit to these people I felt a strong desire for their firm establishment on the sure foundation, besides what was said more publicly, I was concerned to speak with the women Friends in their Monthly Meeting of business, many being present, and in the fresh spring of pure love to open before them the advantage, both inwardly and outwardly, of attending singly to the pure guidance of the Holy Spirit, and therein to educate their children in true humility and the disuse of all superfluities. I reminded them of the difficulties their husbands and sons were frequently exposed to at sea, and that the more plain and simple their way of living was the less need there would be of running great hazards to support them. I also encouraged the young women to continue their neat, decent way of attending themselves on the affairs of the house; showing, as the way opened, that where people were truly humble, used themselves to business, and were content with a plain way of life, they had ever had more true peace and calmness of mind than they who, aspiring to greatness and outward show, have grasped hard for an income to support themselves therein. And as I observed they had so few or no slaves, I had to encourage them to be content without them, making mention of the numerous troubles and vexations which frequently attended the minds of the people who depend on slaves to do their labor.

Journal of John Woolman

I’m trying to figure out what you’re getting at.   I first notice the themes of how hard life on an island is and how much the Nantucketers must stretch God’s resources to provide for themselves.  Then I read your reminder to women to keep low and avoid vanities so as not to lead to the greediness that engenders risk on the sea and the keeping of slaves.

With my early 21st century filters, am I reading too much concern for the creation into your writing?  Is your concern more for the souls of the Nantucket women, for the slaves they might keep or for the supplies of timber and firewood?  Or is it for all of these–the web of relationships between the greed of people, the health of our souls and the demands we can put on others and the creation?

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Sunday, February 7, 2010 by Jay T.

For at least a half hour of this morning’s worship, I wasn’t fully comfortable.  I had volunteered to oversee the meeting for worship and had arrived barely before the appointed time.  I’d not had time to open the overhead window its usual crack, or to turn on the ceiling fan.  The lack of air circulation put me to sleep for a while.  My throat was dry, as I’d left my water bottle outside fastened to my bicycle.  I was not in a sufficiently spiritual state.  I was tired from working hard and with too much adrenaline at quarterly meeting yesterday.

Close to the end of meeting, the Lord inwardly admonished me not to fret.  I was sufficient for God to address.  My throat, the atmosphere, my energy were all enough for God to reach through to find me.

This reassuring message of sufficiency and competence is the message of gratitude.  As I begin to pray, it helps to be thankful and acknowledge the blessings of life that surround me.

This is also the message of forgiveness.  No matter the evils I’ve suffered through or the way people have abused me, if I can let them go, I can encounter One who lives beyond all those slights, injuries and insufficiencies.

This morning I was informed that clearly:
∙    I am enough,
∙    My meeting is enough,
∙    The place is suitable, and
∙    Simple silence is all that is needed  –  to hear the voice of God.

Posted in Prayer, Keeping low, Journal | 1 Comment »

Thursday, November 26, 2009 by Jay T.

In late slanting light I saw the Sisters two days ago.  Triune and illuminated, their western aspects excited me enough to ride partway up the ridge on whose shoulder I now stand.  The vision wasn’t repeated that afternoon, but perhaps it is what stirred me this morning as I lay warm, long before this fine red dawn.  Or perhaps it was something greater than just a vision.Something shook me off the couch and out of the age of sail.  Earlier than I’d been thinking to leave, I was ready.  Out the door and into the age of internal combustion, propelling me higher than cranks and gears brought me 38 hours back.  At trail head, the eastern fringe was already red.  Clear there, just as it had been on Tuesday.

Now, the three are silhouetted below a canopy of stratus, with glowing yellows and reds behind them.  My two companions have quieted their games of Chase and Ring Around the Biped in favor of a slow, quiet stalk between my legs by the strong-eyed one.  I’ve come up the steep southern slope, like some long-ago, strong-willed nephew.  Perhaps that has made me pause, winded.  Perhaps it’s the excitement of the vision before me.  Maybe something greater.

I can see the plumes from the fiber plants near home.  Farther on from the paper or can making in Halsey.  Is the one due south from Brand S?  or OS?  No matter.

I think of those plumes as the largest object in view.  Then I remember the mountains.  How does one measure a mountain?  Where, at the bottom, does it stop?  Where at the sides?  Is forgotten Adams the largest in the Cascades?  Surely the cloud canopy is larger still.  But perhaps not an object.  No matter.

As I move along to the top, the dogs resume their running–moving at least as constantly as my mind.  The still, low sun projects shadows above the Sisters on the canopy that now grazes their tops.  As ambient Light grows, snow shows on their flanks.  Triune still, they fade, seeming to diminish a bit.

The dogs keep playing.  Somehow my descent on the gradual path takes longer than the steep way up.  Ever a sucker for a red-haired half Celt, I allow the strong-eyed one more freedom and more treats than she’s earned.

Am I Thankful this morning?  For the plumes that mark employed neighbors?  For the mountains’ shape?  For the canopy under which I walk?  That is more pleasant than walking within it.  For the companions on whose excuse I walk?  Or for the understood connection that lets me appreciate them all?  This is what undergirds us all and gives no bottom line for my restless minds’ demarcation between.

Posted in Physical activity, Keeping low, Journal | 1 Comment »

Monday, July 13, 2009 by Jay T.

My name’s Jay and I’m a television addict.  I watched a great deal when I was a kid.  Some of it still rattles around in my head.  Not the “programming” so much.  I’m a good student, so I remember the main point of the TV productions.  The marketing.

Perhaps you, too, remember, “Stop!  Now you can pour a beautiful floor.” Or the Rock ‘Em, Sock ‘Em Robots!

In the 60’s the kid shows advertised a game called Tip It.  Players took turns placing weights on a platform, balanced in the center on a small fulcrum.  Whoever made the platform tip too far lost.  I never owned or even played the game, but, thanks to the TV spots before my eyes, I remember how to play it and how much fun it must be.  And how much I would be missing out by not nagging my parents until they got it for me.

When I sat down in a sparsely attended meeting for worship yesterday, half the attenders were on one side of the room.  The other half (plus one) of us on the other.  A bunch of chairs and empty space were in between.  Then from my rattling head pops out the image of Tip It.

The meeting room in Corvallis is hexagonal.  The ceiling beams come to a point above the middle of the room.  Above there’s a windowed cupola which sheds light on us sitting below it.  I wondered if we were balanced on a point in the middle of the floor, or hung from the top of the cupola, which way would the whole thing swing? Read the rest of this entry »

Posted in Faith & Practice, Keeping low | 2 Comments »

Wednesday, April 1, 2009 by Jay T.

John, the first time I read through the second chapter of your Journal (1743–1748), I didn’t have much reply.  My own state of heart was pretty barren.  On this second time through, I’m finding some reflections in my own life.

I had a great regard for him, and felt a strong inclination, after matters were settled, to speak to him concerning his conduct in that case; but being a youth, and he far advanced in age and experience, my way appeared difficult; after some days’ deliberation, and inward seeking to the Lord for assistance, I was made subject, so that I expressed what lay upon me in a way which became my youth and his years; and though it was a hard task to me it was well taken, and I believe was useful to us both.

That’s an experience I have had, though less and less as I age.  I’ve heard it referred to as “youngering.”  Sometimes, those who have less status or fewer years have a clear role in reminding their elders of the Guide and principles that they profess to live by. Read the rest of this entry »

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Monday, March 23, 2009 by Jay T.

John

Referring to Abraham Farrington’s ministry, you phrased your description, “In both these meetings my ancient companion was engaged to preach largely in the love of the gospel.”

That’s not a phrasing I would have used, but it does open some windows to me on how vocal ministry is an act of love.  I’m considering this morning how much our speaking flows from the love Friends hold each other in.  Usually I consider ministry as an act of obedience to God, or of passing on the Light as received.  It is that, but your phrasing has pointed me to the relationship between minister and flock.

I’ve long recognized the importance of a healthy school community in the teaching I do.  When the relationships between students, staff and parents are caring and interwoven, the learning and teaching is enriched greatly.  You’re bringing me to remember how much the ministry in a Friends meeting or a church can be a product of the love and community that is present there.

Thanks.

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Sunday, February 22, 2009 by Jay T.

Last week I was reminding one of my 5th grade PE classes about the Jump Rope for Heart event that was planned for a few days afterward.   One of the students explained that he wasn’t going since he didn’t see that the American Heart Association needed any more money.   I rather agreed with him, but remained silent as I’m the principal organizer for the shindig.

“So why do it?”  I wondered that week.   Jump Rope for Heart raises money for the Heart Association.  Children ask people they know to contribute, usually a flat dollar amount, in honor of the jumping that they will do at school.  The students are motivated by prizes they earn for raising different dollar amounts:  water bottles, jump ropes, plastic toys, tee shirts.

After the event, I had my answer.   It felt right in these ways:

• Thirty seven children enjoyed jumping rope for an hour.
• They worked hard at the jumping.
• They helped each other across grade levels and economic strata.
• They took some initiative to ask scores of adults to contribute.

Read the rest of this entry »

Posted in Physical activity, Keeping low | 1 Comment »

Wednesday, December 24, 2008 by Jay T.

I’ve been out of sorts.  Prayer has been pretty dry and perfunctory.  Journal writing and blogging have not been happening.  I was concerned about it.  I’m less so, since I realized it’s been Advent.

For me that’s long been a time of reflection and introspection.  In that season, I’ve often listened to Gregorian chants and appreciated their haunting polyphonies.  Perhaps due to my memories of O Come, Emmanuel, they speak to me of desires for fulfillment, held for generations in anticipation of something more:  enlightenment, world peace, the coming (first, second or third) of a savior.

I’m not so concerned since I remembered I often feel this way at this time of year.  It’s part of the long slide to the winter solstice, which promises celebration after.  From that cycle, I gain more awareness and understanding of the natural and spiritual realities of life. Read the rest of this entry »

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