Journals and Monstrosity...

Video: Monsters in the Making


I am currently working on a project for a holistic clinic to develop a journaling class that provides clients tools and other ways of thinking about the material that arises from their interior lives.  Many people worldwide do not have alternative ways of thinking about the numinous aspects of their lives in modern cultures.  Even third world cultures are in transition with modern structures of governance and business juxtaposed or overwhelming traditional customs and religion...the overturn of culture no longer providing a place for the magical content of their imaginations in balance against the highly constructed consciousness of modern life.  Guillermo del Toro exhibits fascinating, unbridled development from the interior of his life and a magnanimous honesty about his humanity.

PILGRIMAGE ON TWO MAPS

Below is the beginning posts of my academic adventure in fall of 2008.  To see the development of the pilgrimage I embarked upon, go the the bottom of the blog for that is the beginning.  A second trip was taken during the contract, however I was not able to record that in the blog.


27 September 2008 Saturday
I’ve been home a couple of days now but with the idea that I am still on pilgrimage. I have another appointment to interview Cynthia Bourgeault October 30 in Vancouver BC. I still have other contacts to make for that journey as well and as they firm up, that trip will take shape.


A journey like this does awaken something in you that brings back the sense of intimacy within your own life. It’s work to be on the road trying to catch trains, ferries, and buses, connect with people, and still have time to be private. Pilgrimage thrusts me out beyond my insular rut so I bump up against other human beings, but also get a close up view of plants, animals and the homes I walk by. I love walking just at dusk when people are getting dinner ready and the lights are blazing. Rebecca and I went on a walk one evening and ran into four little deer, two that were very young. They weren’t afraid, but kept just ahead of us like leggy school girls giggling, then ran off down the side of a house. Seeing all of this makes me feel more connected to this world than I have felt in a while. I ride a folding bike to work and that allows me to be closer to the natural world than being in a car listening to the world tumble down on the news, but the work-a-day world is so numbing.


MILIEU
I’m a very private person and have a big interior garden to tend. It seems in recent years, especially since I became aware of my emptiness, my world inside is much larger. Sometimes I wonder where my real milieu is – inside or outside myself. I’ve always had a bigger sense of milieu. I remember moving to Nashville in the 1970’s and trying to get a loan for a car. The banker asked me why I was in Nashville if I grew up in the west. This took me be surprise. I had always fancied myself a citizen of the whole United States. I didn’t get the loan and that bit of fate turned out for the best. But what about that prescriptive idea of where we belong or what home really means?


The dynamics of milieu got very clear to me a couple of years ago when I was trying to tell a friend about the reasons I never married…one is that I believe the reason there is so much divorce is because there is too much marriage. That is no doubt loaded for several readers, but it is not my issue here.


It was around 2006, I felt I isolated a single idea that had pervaded all my life and I don’t recall where it began, but it was there a very long time; perhaps this thought has been with me since early adulthood. It connects, if it’s not the core, of how I kept reaching for a larger milieu. This awareness of milieu began in the early to mid 1990s. It is something of a nightmare that goes like this:


I hold a magical belief that there is only one person in this world who is my soul mate. This is powerful because I feel this person is the single resource necessary to help me complete my life’s mission. If I confine myself to one small environment, how will I ever meet this magic person? This person seems important and couldn’t just come from the tiny high school I attended when growing up. It implies that I have to scout the surface of the planet. That is a problem.



To see more clearly how milieu works on people, imagine this story. It’s about a lifeboat where two occupants, who were formerly sworn enemies on a recently sunk ocean liner, share seats. The liner represents a hierarchically stratified society where the female is a spoiled diva (goddess) imprisoned by an entourage that lives like parasites with her at the top of the ship’s superstructure in the finest suite the ship has to offer.


The man shovels coal (mortal) in the hold of the ship, whose sweat is the life energy that fuels the luxuries above him, which he will never see, taste or experience. Indeed, he will likely never see the light of day while on voyage. His quarters are below; his recreation takes place below in a world of surly, smelly men with pent up angst and helplessness against a fate that condemns them to become human fuel to power the meaningless entertainments of the upper-deck class of people.


In a chance meeting the diva descends several stories on a dare to slum it with the unseen insects that power her world. At the same time, the slave finds a rare opportunity to rise above the ship’s water line to glimpse his despised captors. Suddenly they meet face to face. It doesn’t take long for both of them to become incensed when each acts in clichéd and predictable manners that confirm the vile stereotypes the other holds. Spontaneously they each break out mutually in their own customary and well instilled threats and demeaning violence that is only postponed by bystanders who don’t wish the incident to escalate. The moment passes but the event tears at the illusive veil that numbs and keeps them in their proper place. They both feel their own miserable confinement in places that suffocate the promise of their youthful dreams.


CATASTROPHIC OPPORTUNITY
In the tragic sinking of the ship the woman somehow escapes into a lifeboat without a single person from her doting entourage. She is helped into the boat by an elegant but tattered elderly man. He gets a free pass from her critical attitude because somehow he has survived the life’s vicissitudes with dignity and charming, well-spoken humor. Eventually the mortal swims up and asks for access to the shelter of the boat. Her reaction is to sarcastically suggest he become fish bait, which will provide his final service to her. Instantly another outbreak of class brutality erupts and is quelled only by the wise old gentlemen who cleverly softens the animosity and allows her to be a hero by admitting the poor drowned rat aboard. An uneasy truce is observed because of the extraordinary circumstances in which they find themselves. Certainly the old man’s presence monitors their behavior as he would be an innocent witness to any truly murderous acts they might commit if left to themselves.


After hours of intense volleys of aggressive insults moderated by the old man’s humor and caution, relief comes in the form of another survivor from the ship. They come aboard, and then another and more. This growing crew silences the two enemies so as not to expose themselves to the judgment of pettiness that is unseemly in outrageous and uncertain misfortunes.


As voices, both internal and external, are added to the dialog a chemical change rapidly occurs in the minds of the two haters and a new attitude creeps upon them. They both feel secretly shamed by the shear human decency shown by others. Add to this the unifying factors of mutual enemies in thirst and hunger. Worst of all are the stinging thoughts that this might be their miserable end after all.


Along with the old man they hold the status of senior crew members. Having held their peace when new people came on-board, they are recognized equally as leaders for their leadership and order in the dire moment. As they take up the task of trying to make sure all meager supplies are distributed caringly and a plan maximizing their few resources can be shared in by all, they see themselves and each other differently and find themselves falling in love.


OBSERVATIONS AND TAKE AWAYS
Interesting how milieu works whether in a catastrophic circumstance or an ordinary classroom, on the job, wherever we establish our milieu. These are the resources to which we confine ourselves. In my analysis of these human dynamics, I find that people form a milieu in support of love and home. For me I kept thinking I had to go outside my milieu to find a better life. That clearly indicates that I was unsatisfied with my menu options. Then there was the feeling that if I was to search the world I had to keep moving. Of course, when I quagmired in fundamentalism I wasn’t moving at all. However, I never felt at home there and even sought counseling for it. The advice was that I might feel better once I was married. Sheesh! I tried and gave it my best to marry someone within the church milieu, but they clearly did not drive my car for me. It could be that getting a close up look at marriage was not really that inspiring to me, hence, my conclusions about too much marriage.


I want to go back to the story I came up with demonstrating milieu. I got a bonus understanding from it. What is striking about the Lifeboat-as-milieu story is the view of the diva as goddess and the man as her mortal slave. He is secretly worshiping her and her world, while acting like he despises her. She basks in his adoration once she conquers him. It comes back to me that this is the myth of feminine/masculine relations that I grew up under.


It is very different from the Cinderella story that seems to rule so many people’s lives. The woman is fragile and helpless; the man is virtuous and gallant. This myth seems to be obvious and suits long term relationships especially in a patriarchal hierarchy. I don’t know if the diva myth is as good for long term relationships. In fact, in matriarchy they don’t seem interested in long term relationships. It is something to ponder and a good bit of deconstruction.


Finally, I think of milieu as a constraint in that people choose one thing over something else. That seems like a constraint. I am more at peace with constraint lately because it acts as a force to drive out something I don’t know about myself. The pilgrimage has constraints and it is mining a deeper to hidden areas in my life and forming new questions.

Today’s picture is contemplative in its own way to me. This is the rough old fireplace at Rebecca’s cottage on Vashon. The charm of this old place invites, almost seduces you to peace and meditation. I fell in love with the place and volunteered to house sit while Rebecca goes to Napal in November and December. She will be gone again February and March to South America and Mexico. I look forward to staying there to write and enjoy the quiet.

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22 SEPTEMBER 2008 Monday

NEWS

I am thrilled to receive a positive response to my email asking Cynthia Bourgeault for an interview. I was referred to two people by Cherry Haisten and one of them was Cynthia. Thank you Cherry! Cynthia is a remarkable teacher whose practice is evident in her work. She is tuned to the fine distinctions, or subtleties, even enigma as I read it in Proverbs 1. I have attended as many of her teachings as possible especially while I lived in Seattle. I once asked Cynthia, “What is the will of God?” Her reply was slow and reflective, “I heard someone say that the will of God is each one of us.”

MORE BACK STORY

Cynthia's response was beyond her own wisdom. She could not have known my background of fundamentalist Christianity where a prayer is developed within the micro-culture. “O Lord, show me who I am in you.” I knew others who made this their mantra as well. Now developing my faith through Liturgy and contemplation, I heard a distinct voice say to me, “No, who am I in you?” This shook me to the core because it changed the whole locus of the dialog I have in prayer. God seemed to be saying, he wanted to develop himself uniquely in me. That notion hung in my heart for a long time before my encounter with Cynthia. Over and over, I got the message to let go and trust that I was whole and complete if I would stop twisting myself around a religious prescription designed to make me more acceptable to a punitive God I frankly did not know. This was an extraordinary liberation and highly motivating.

SECOND REFERRAL

Cherry did not hold back but gave me three brilliant referrals. The second is to John P. Gorsuch (Jack), a well-known northwest contemplative. Jack is also a published writer of spiritual materials as is Cynthia. His long journey and practice make him a treasure. Cherry contacted Jack about my project and she said he sounded very open to an interview. If it can be arranged, I hope to see both Cynthia and Jack in my next trip north as they are in Bellingham and Vancouver BC. This could not be done now and their schedules are less flexible. It is my prayer I can accomplish this because I never dreamed I would have referrals like this.

I should say at this point that Cherry mentioned looking up Monica Wood, founder of New Road Maps Foundation, out of which grew Conversation Cafes. And that is another story altogether that I will get to later.

SELF-REFERRALS

My interview with Father Tryphon of All Merciful Savior Russian Orthodox Monastery was amazing. I had an experience years ago at a Greek convent outside Goldendale, Washington. I drove with Daphnie, a fellow traveler in the matters of the spirit, out to find these nuns. We were unannounced as we are used to American styled Benedictine cloisters where provision is made at an entry to receive guests. I felt terrible that we had not attempted to contact them prior to our visit. It turns out they had only recently come to America and could not speak English. It was like walking up to an unknown farm house and asking to come in while they are having a meal with a guest. Fortunately, their guest was a guardian of sorts to them and spoke good English. They warmly received us and insisted on tea and these wonderful cookies. I don't now remember the questions I asked them but one of their answers was to say that there are spiritual senses that correspond somewhat to our natural senses and they can be cultivated. This captured my imagination. We had no right to imposed longer than we already had so we heartily thanked them for the generosity and again profusely apologized. This encounter and reading the books by Met. Kallistos Ware (The Orthodox Church and The Orthodox Way) caused me to self-refer to the monastery on Vashon. Met. Kallistos Ware has visited here at this little enclave.

Father Tryphon was warm and candid as he spoke to me in the quiet of the library, a beautifully appointed room in the Russian Orthodox tradition. At one point, he asked me to let his cat in. It was an immense cat with refined manners and voice as he came into speak to the Father. You could tell they were old friends.

When I called for the interview, I was asked to come to liturgy at 9:40am, to lunch afterward, and then we would retire to the library for the interview. I arrived slightly late after making a wrong turn on the island (easy to do) and having to back track.

Arriving at the stairs to the sanctuary, I saw that all shoes must be removed to enter holy ground. I love this about all liturgical Christianity. They have maintained the concept of sacred space. They Orthodox have a belief of the cosmos being sacred and that is in some ways in our stewardship. I think people act differently when special value is put on a space. I also think that regard causes us to shift gears and listen differently. It cues our psyche to be alert on non-rational levels that are may be rarely encountered for some of us. However, it is just as much a part of our composition as flowing blood. Prayer beads, singing bowels, candles, incense; all signal to me that I am leaving the ordinary and entering the extraordinary presence of someone greater than myself.

There are only courtesy chairs in the small narthex of the church. Everyone stands and moves from Icon to Icon, bowing kissing and crossing themselves. At times they cross themselves and touch the floor repeatedly. It becomes rhythmic when they inadvertently group together with heads bobbing. Candles blazed everywhere and the walls were covered in Icons of every size. My brain was overwhelmed with the color gold...Icon backgrounds are amplified in the illumination of bees wax candles. But rich blues, reds, greens and silver threaded brocades were also present in the beautiful robes worn by the Father and the other monks participating in the service. Several times during the liturgy a velvet deep red curtain is drawn as part of the narrative of the liturgy progresses.

As an Anglican, I know that everything must be as natural as possible. That is why bees wax candles are used. At St. Mark's Cathedral, their tradition is to take all the congregation's candles used in various feast days saved over the year and melted down to form the new Pascal candle so that it has some of the old in it as well as the fresh start of the new cycle. I love that.

I got in line to go up to the Father and he could tell immediately I was not Orthodox as I was at sea with all the movements. He asked if I were the student who called for an interview. I said yes and he gently guided me to a place where I could observe. Not being Orthodox, I could not participate in the Eucharist or Communion. However, I was moved all the same.

At lunch, the Father approached Lama John who was also there for the first time. I sat with Gabriel, a young monk with smiling eyes and wonderfully long wavy hair and beard. I spoke to a young Orthodox nun from Vashon who was living on her own. She is part of this community but still solitary as the monastery is for men only.  When all was finished, the Father called from the balcony of the library to a Russian couple who had waited to counsel with the Father. As I passed by the fountain, he waved and said to come back and visit again. I promised I would.

ANOTHER SELF-REFERRAL

My interview questions arise not only from an interest in the Greek word Kenosis, as used in the scripture Philippians 2:7, where Christ empties himself, but also from the Sanskrit, Sunyata, used in Buddhist texts and teachings. I am interested in any tradition that speaks to this place that is accessed through meditation. I hope to contact the Sakya Tibetan Buddhist in Greenwood, just north of Seattle. My sister is Tibetan Buddhist and I’ve visited there on several occasions. Nevertheless, I realize that my self-referrals are just as tenuous as a regular referral.

MORE REFERRALS

I asked Norma Alicia Pino who works with First Peoples on campus if she could think of anyone I might speak to - perhaps with the Nisqually Nation, which is nearby. She graciously referred me to people she thinks would be interested in my project. I will contact them separately and follow that thread as a referral. Hmmm, this is diverging in ways I hadn’t expected.

20-21 SEPTEMBER 2008 Saturday & Sunday
As soon as Rebecca and I got on the ferry to go to Vashon Island, I was cold and stayed that way until I bought some long underwear, long socks, and a second hand, long sleeve shirt. Whew! We went to dinner with Terri and Tobey Fitch, old friends of the family. Rebecca went to school with Terri and they live in Portland and have stayed close. We were going to go to the Hardware Store but the wait was too long without reservations. So off to the Gusto Girls, which serves great food. Trying to eat simply as one of my constraints, I chose a light appetizer because everything else was quite lavish, including salad. They were all appalled so I said I had eaten a big lunch. No problem. We had a great visit and I got to tell them some of my stories.


The weather had been Indian Summer up till now, but fall came in the night with the rain. Rebecca made me a bed in the living room on the floor with one of those foam pad things and lots of blankets. It rained all day Saturday, which was when we harvested the garden of berries, tomatoes, squash, beans, egg plant, marjoram, oregano, Italian parsley, French tarragon, and thyme. Rebecca had rain suits for both of us and it was great because we were out there for hours. We cooked a huge pot of tomato sauce and grilled fillets of squash to make several vegetarian lasagnas to freeze. I made my famous cabbage and black bean salad for our dinner. She will be canning and freezing for awhile as most of the garden is still producing. We built a fire that night and it really took the chill off. On my journey to France I helped out where I stayed during wedding preparations. I baked 1800 cookies; chocolate chips and peanut butter. Most of the guests had never heard of a cookie.


MORE BACK STORY...
One might ask how I went from being a Fundamentalist Christian of the charismatic persuasion to Mystic wannabe. It was like a lovely car journey to go sightseeing, only I thought we were going to tour the French Riviera. Surprise! I had no idea it was the Grand Canyon of my own soul and what a strange map developed from that...yikes!


My transformation started innocently with a sudden interest in Celtic Christianity. Well really, I was suffocating and needed more room to grow spiritually, so I began exploring my Christian roots thinking maybe the Church was going through de-evolution.


My real name is not Ribble, but rather a French or perhaps older...a Latin name. I also know that strong Irish component in later generations. So it seemed natural to seek in parallel with Christian history, my European roots on my 1998 pilgrimage to Ireland and France.
The big event happened in southern France. But how it started was being stuck in Barcelona. The trains went on strike throughout Spain and Santes Station, in Barcelona, was full of stranded travelers sleeping on the floors in clusters. They were mostly young people and many were so sick they were retching in trashcans. But I don't think I got it from them. Mine was respiratory and I may have picked it up on my flight over. It had fully incubated into an infection and I found it intolerable to be around smoking. I switched from the hostel further away from downtown to staying in a hotel near the station so I could keep an eye on the trains. I languished on my bed or took hot bathes in those great short but deep bathtubs they have over there, to help my breathing. I wondered what I had done to myself going off alone on this adventure without a tour guide. By the time I caught a train out of Spain to France, I was too sick to travel beyond.


I was trying to reach the family home of a friend of mine in the States. I had hired Claire for a couple of translating projects and we had become friends. She was visiting her family's vineyard outside the city of Carcassonne near the foothills of the Pyrenees for the wedding of her youngest sister, Marie. I was generously given shelter there to convalesce for a couple of weeks. When I was on the mend, Claire volunteered to translate interviews with nuns and monks in cloistered communities in the area nearby. Every evening my hosts took me to Mass at the convent that bordered the vineyard. I was not familiar with the Roman Liturgy, Latin, or French and understood little of what was going on. I found myself bewildered at my own weeping through the mass each evening. One night, a woman from Paris, Katrine, sat next to me and noticed my crying but could not inquire because of the language barrier. Suddenly she leaned over and kissed me on the cheek to express her concern. I knew what she meant and gestured that I was fine and we both smiled. It struck me how we could make ourselves understood without language. This caused me to think about the universality of symbols and it was not much of a stretch to realize the rhythms and ancient symbols of the liturgy were impacting me somewhere inside that I had no conscious awareness before this event. Amazed, I determined to explore this Kairotic portal further. It was an awakening; knowing in ways other than through my rational mind. This transformation caused me to review how I look at meaning and truth, what the rules are, or if there might be other ways of framing my world. The event each evening caused both a palpable epistemological and ontological shift in how I read the text of my life.
After I returned from Europe, I began seeking this experience in the US. At first I tried the local suburban Catholic churches and found them short of the experience I had in France.


Then a Catholic friend suggested I try St. James Cathedral near downtown Seattle. Bingo! I was a sobbing mess all over again. But as I attempted to go through Christian Initiation at St. James I choked on dogma. The year I spent at St. James intensely absorbing beauty was not lost on me. This place was eye candy compared to the striped down churches where I worshiped in Evangelical Christianity. St. James came to represent the glories of heaven to me. The sensory beauty around me penetrated and healed so many places I did not realize were wounds, The acoustics in cathedrals are incredible. Music was new again.


During that time, I attended a seminar by Father Thomas Keating on Centering Prayer. I was especially wowed by this ancient but revived practice of deep Christian meditation. It started with the Desert Fathers and Mothers and continued mainly in the monastic tradition. Now I was grasping something beyond the symbols and the beauty of liturgy. I could get beneath the noise of our culture and my own deep hurts that caused me to run a strange little obstacle course in my life. Now felt like I was going somewhere in my faith.
Now add to that the Welcoming prayer developed by Mary Mrozowski, who is also a co-founder and faculty member of Contemplative Outreach. She is now passed but left the gift of this intuitive prayer for others. It was from the classes Cherry Haisten taught that I learned these two wonderful methods of prayer. The classes were held at St. Mark's Episcopal Cathedral. I mentioned that I was struggling with Catholic dogma and she gently suggested visiting St. Mark's for a service. I did and talked with people who answered questions about the Anglican faith. Another bingo. This is where I could really ask questions and explore my faith.

17-18 September 2008 Thursday & Friday
Today I feel a mild let-down. I fulfilled my first assignments and await word of my next referrals. There is nothing in front of me and on one hand, I'm nervous. But on the other, I feel fascinated at what is in the works that I do not know about. I must trust that the next step will arise in a timely fashion. I have never been disappointed especially because I have no expectation. Today I am just tired and quiet inside myself.


I noticed the new follower and hope they will make a comment on what they read. Maybe readers might ask questions to guide what I say. I'm a novice and don't know what makes this interesting to read.


I left my sister Kristie's house in West Seattle on Friday and hitched a ride to Vashon Island to stay at my sister Rebecca's cottage. The ascetics are perfect and I can see that I could get a lot of writing done here because there is no interruption. I get time to myself here and it feels like a good break. But I'm still on the road just now.


I contacted the All Merciful Savior Russian Orthodox Monastery on the island asking if I might interview someone there. This is a break in my constraints for my pilgrimage as I have not been referred. However, I mentioned to my sponsor before leaving that I wanted to hear more about the five spiritual sense the Orthodox believe are developed in the believer as they mature. I know this monastery is in contact with Kallistos Ware, the author of The Orthodox Church and The Orthodox Way. Link: http://orthodoxwiki.org/Kallistos_(Ware)_of_Diokleia 


I was hugely impacted by the second book because it gives such powerful meaning behind the rituals they have preserved for 2000 years.  Metropolitan Ware recently visited this tiny community on Vashon, link: http://www.vashonmonks.com/index.php


The monk answering the phone at the monastery cheerfully consented to me interviewing someone there and said if I attend the Sunday service and partake of the meal, one of the monks would gladly talk with me and there would be no problem with recording and photography. That gives me time to figure out how to get there. It also gives me time to work on two other referrals I got; one in Vancouver BC and the other in Bellingham. It would be fabulous to be able to make both and than head back to Olympia.


Oops! I have to borrow a car to get to the monastery. No way around it. This happened in Europe when I was trying to get to a monastery in Montreal, France. I had to rent a car for that portion of the journey. I have to borrow a sarong and scarf from Rebecca as the Orthodox have a dress code. I had to buy long underwear because I'm freezing in the rain just now.


THINKING BACK TO THE CATALYST FOR THIS JOURNEY
Here's some back story on what things have been prompting this new quest. I need to discover something about the condition I find has overtaken my existence since around 2002. I find I am dead to essential desires such as:

• Who I want to be
• Where I want to go
• What I want to do
• How I want to live

I simply no longer imagine or desire any particular thing that motivates me into my future. There is no interest in pushing forward on a practical agenda to bring about the achievement of temporal goals. When this first happened to me I thought something important in me died and I was waiting for a terrible odor to arise and give away my secret. I thought I had done some harm to myself by meditating and seeking out the hidden arcana from the ancient mind of our ancestors. I wondered if I should stop meditating and actually did for quite awhile. But that did not mean I stopped listening.


In the place of the normal rituals and routines of scheming, contriving to get a desire, planning earnestly my next steps, making a case for something I want, even if it is only to justify it to myself; I found I was empty of any motivation to work hard on those things. I always ask, “Is this- that?” Am I dead or alive? Am I depressed? Or is this some stage I am going through and will return to my old self? What is my course if not through my desires? If there is no motivation, it is like a motor without fuel. How then should I live?


Strangely, I discovered that when I was in a sacred space, moving in a sacred ritual, I was still hearing from the one in whom I have my being. That was never at issue. I still felt passionate about things I valued. None of my basic belief system was negated or diminished by this new consciousness. It was as though my basic being had entered a new stage.


My relationship to time was impacted because my former way of moving through life was to pull myself into the future by things I wanted...desire and will.  I was usually who I was trying to become, some place I wanted to go, what I wanted to accomplish, or more tentatively, what impact I wanted to make. Now with no interest in any of that I had to ask a different question: “If not this- what?” That is my present question. I'm still listening, but with greater calm and distance, perhaps objectivity for the first time.


Not far behind my relationship to time changing; I find my identity being reshaped. So many of my desires where worn like costumes. I looked in the mirror and saw my desires; who I thought I was and where I thought I was going. What I thought I wanted to do and how I wanted others to relate to me. It felt like the stripping down to a simple person-hood. I felt detachment from the labels I would have readily described myself on a resume or grant application before this event. I can recite accomplishments but they feel remote and I might feel hollow doing those things now.


It is a completely new season and I am launching into it with the freshness of an amnesiac. Waking dreams have come to my aid in this vast wasteland devoid of the desire images. When I meditate or pray, they come like narrative and myth, actively posing questions or making simple observations. They powerfully challenge my personal, intellectual and spiritual life. At times they have provided moments of wonder, at others I felt emotional release. I can honestly say that I am addicted to narrative and not just my own.


I like to read. I read a lot of non fiction and have never been drawn to poetry other than ecstatic poetry like that of Blake or Rumi. Lately, I am drawn in to the punchiness of plot. I wander if the author even intends what I may take for their story. Plots consist of polarized collaborations, elastic permanence, or artistic balance. I enjoy reading E.M. Forester, Graham Greene, Evelyn Waugh, Anatoly France and others from the twentieth century and am very focused on plot movement, intended or not.

16 September 2008 The beginning


DAY ONE:  ANNIVERSARY PILGRIMAGE 2008 

Ribble's blog is a digital journal recording the progress and reflection of a spiritual journey taken on two maps. One, an unfolding ground map as referrals are asked for leading to the next interview. The second is a spiritual map upon which reflection of the adventures on the ground takes place. Here are the reasons for this current journey:

• Tenth anniversary of my European pilgrimage
• An Independent Contract for The Evergreen State College – Olympia, WA
• Learn about my question: How does emptiness (both Sanskrit-Sunyata and Greek-Kenosis) impact the human sense of time and identity?
• Refresh my spiritual and creative process again

Ribble hunts Cairotic portals, sometimes leaping in with abandon on strong days and at other times anxiously peering in with a sniff and trepidation. We are not always ready for opportunity. That is why it takes rigorous training of the senses to discern subtlety—fine distinction. It is not just the natural senses—Ribble has been told that there are corresponding spiritual senses—it is an open question at the moment, of just what they are and how the adept might aid themselves with this wisdom. 

16 September 2008 The beginning 

The 2008 journey is more of a quest than the pilgrimage I took in 1998 because I’m looking for something. In a way, it’s something I think I’ve lost. About 20 years ago, biology took me by surprise and I discovered I had another clock ticking inside. Urgency to scratch down through the surface of life and discover my true self and purpose began waking me up at night. It felt like a desperate need to get a deep breath. Early in life I chose not to go the route so many of my friends or family members went with like marriage, children, home and hearth. When I went through the drop-down menus of life, they didn’t have all the options I thought could be on them. I was blessed and fortunate to have a father who was a life explorer. He gently suggested, though not in computer metaphor, that I could customize my menu bar to better fit me as a user. Through all the stages of life so far I have re-customized my menu bar again and again, always discovering new options. This might be why my desktop has never looked quite like that of my peers.

During the Jesus Movement era of the early 1970s I became a believer. We were a small parade of raggedy, barefoot hippies from the late 1960s that were swept into Christianity during that time. Many of us had looked at eastern and western philosophy, but came home to Christianity. I have a funny theory that some of us became Christians, and some became Dead-Heads—peace, love and rock-n-roll was the motto of both groups in the split and we all seemed inclined to form into communes. It wasn’t until later that you could tell a distinct difference between the groups—it’s all about trajectory!

Unfortunately, the experience on the Christian side of the cultural split seemed to close in like a cult. The brand of Christianity I was involved in was narrowing and begin to feel like it was  holding me back from knowing the love of God as promised in the Bible. In a word, I wanted more. I wanted to know the unknowable, ineffable God. That could not be done in an exclusively discursive and prescriptive environment.

On this trip, I hope to better capture the wisdom available ten years ago on my last journey (Europe). At that time, I took a portable word processor with me, which proved burdensome and I had to ship it home with friends I met in France. I took up the long standing organic method of the handwritten journal.

Now I am toting a small EEE PC, weighing 32 ounces, a Fuji Finepix digital camera with spare memory cards and fancy card reader. I also have a slick pay-as-you-go Virgin Mobile phone and have already used it because I needed to be rescued by a friend and taken to the train station. Thank you Fallon Kazan! However, after rushing to the station, I found out the train was 40 minutes late. Yikes! So I used that slick phone to call my sister to say I would be late and I would keep her posted.

Actually, this happened to me once in Marlow-on-Thames, England when the train didn't come at all and the train company sent out seven Pakistani cab drivers to pick up the waiting riders. Because of the stunned disbelief of the riders, the poor drivers had a hard time convincing us it was true. But when we found out it was free (and there is safety in numbers), we chose to crowd in to the little cabs and ride the long way into town. The drivers were comedians and that helped. I doubt that would happen in America now...

I have chosen to constrain my pilgrimage for greater attention.  Since I usually sleep-walk through my daily life like most work-a-day folks, hence the need for pilgrimage, I make this a different routine to awaken my senses.  Following are the constraints of my pilgrimage. The Celts believed to go away from your world refreshes or wakes up your senses. Leaving your milieu makes you more alert and curious. This is on every level. I chose to constrain my path is the following way: 

• Travel under my own power (or on mass transit): This way I am not insulated from the immediate connections with places and other humans like when you are in a car. 
• Eat simply On a cellular level, I want to cue my mind and body that this is not business as usual. I dried and roasted everything myself: vegetables and spices for a soup mix, fruits, roasted my own nuts, and have simple noodles and oatmeal so that it is light for travel. It also helps me to self-cater wherever possible. 
• I will ask to be referred to each interview of my trip. I found my former spiritual director, who taught me Centering Prayer and Welcoming Prayer. We lost connection with one another over some years. I will begin my interviews with her and ask for a referral to someone else she thinks might be interested in the conversation. And it goes from there.