The merging of Little Red Riding Hood, St. Francis and the Wolf of Gubbio, the Cajun Rougarou, and one’s inner journey toward wholeness.
“Grandma is sick, take her this basket of cakes.
Be very careful! and don’t listen to the wolf.”
“Don’t worry”, he said.
And started his long trip through the woods.
... Soon a very big voice said: “Hello, little boy.
Why are you walking in the dark all alone?”
“Brother wolf, thou hast done much evil.
If thou no more hide: thou shalt no longer suffer.”
In agreement, the wolf placed one of his forepaws on the boy’s hand, and a friendship was formed.
“It’s safe to go home now. Rougarou is now friend.”
Take a moment, and use the comment function and write how you would caption this final image.
ps. The primary character is a little boy with his red hat and the rougarou (french for a werewolf). The red hat the boy wears is a metaphor for one’s false sense of security or comfort. The werewolf is a metaphor for things we fear in our psychological-spiritual lives. The “Gubbio” influence shifts the “little red riding hood” narrative of killing the wolf to making friends with it (ie. our fears). The “two-headed” image is the acceptance of our true selves (both good and evil). The sixth and final image reflects personal transformation to wholeness and love of self and others.
In the final image, the boy’s hat is gone and the color red has shifted to the heart representing the acceptance and love of one’s total self; both light and dark.
John of the Cross, 16th century Spanish Carmelite was perceived as a threat by his religious brothers. They kidnapped, imprisoned, and isolated him in a dark closet for nearly a year. The idols in which he had cast his happiness and spiritual consolations from a lifetime of religious devotion abandoned him. Through this crucible of poverty, he had nothing to offer but his consent and trust – in God Alone.
He composes (The Dark Night)in which one is lost, (The Spiritual Canticle)abandoned by a beloved, and (The Living Flame of Love)a Love which burns. John of the Cross writes:
“The Father spoke one word from all eternity and he spoke it in silence, and it is in this silence that we hear it.”
What is this silence?
Author Robert Sardello in “Silence, The Mystery of Wholeness,” writes,
“Silence was here before anything else, and it envelops everything else. Silence is prior to sound, not the cessation of sound, it is already present.
Genesis 1:1 “Now the earth was formless and empty,…”
There is Sacred Silence before human consciousness. Before birth and after death. And sacrament in the Silence of this present moment.
I know this “formless” Silence in my innermost being, shared only with the Divine Other, my Beloved. It is where I am known and not alone.
Contemplative prayer is silence, …unbearable to the “outer man,” and like entering into the Eucharistic liturgy: …accepted only in humility and poverty. (CCC2709-2724)
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I set aside time in my own spiritual cellar. I stand in orans, gently crossing my forehead,“Lord, cleanse my thoughts.” Cross my eyes, “Lord, clarify my sight.”Cross my ears, “Lord, teach me to hear.” I cross my lips, “Lord, cleanse my words.” Finally, cross my heart with both hands, “Lord, heal my heart.”
I sit and recite a personalized version of 1 Corinthians 2:12. “I have not received the spirit of the world but the spirit that is from God, so that I may understand the things freely given me by God.” I am now ready.
I tap my singing bowl marking the beginning of twenty minutes of contemplative silence. I intend to sit in silence, consenting to Divine Presence and action in my life. No expectations, …only trust.
I soon begin daydreaming. And by a sacred word, I interrupt mindless chatter and return, …again, …and again. A hundred times, …returning to consent in Silence.
After twenty minutes, my timer sounds. I end with Isaiah, “By waiting and by calm I shall be saved, in quiet and in trust my strength lies.” I gently open my eyes.
I ask God to keep me aware of Divine Presence. I get up and go about my day.
Christian contemplative prayer is desert spirituality traced to the Desert Fathers and Mothers of the 4th century.
It is a spiritual practice of relinquishing (for a time) our usual capacities of sensing, knowing, and acting. It is an intentional act of humility, poverty, and Eucharistic sacrifice – of laying down the “self” we think we are.
In Sacred Silence, …an interior clearing takes place – making room for new life, not only for oneself but for others as well. I am grateful for the discovery.
As we enter this Lenten journey with Jesus in the desert, may you hear the Word in Silence.
ps. To learn more, google or youtube: Fr. Keating/ Centering Prayer.
My friends and I often talk about our retirement. So I am tickled to play with the French origin and root meaning of the word “retire,” which is to “re-draw.” Give it to the French to speak the language of love and art.
For the past two weeks, I’ve been recalling all the names, labels, and role-titles I’ve been called throughout my life. Here’s the good, the bad, the ugly:
boy, child, father, son, husband, devil, leader, follower, teacher, student, scientist, engineer, deacon, sailor, veteran, schitzo, answer-man, guyeaux, guybeau, honey, hubby, friend, holy-man, satan, bull, rock, abuser, Anthony, philosopher, musician, artist, power-user, gentleman, too-religious, arrogant, good-man, neighbor, stranger, impotent, grandfather, professional, homosexual, democrat, republican, independent, Popsie, Popee’, babe, daddio, pops, war-criminal, mr. bingo, even called an extroverted-introvert, or maybe it was an introverted-extravert.
Some built me up, others tore me down. Yet, they are only words and thoughts in the minds of men – occupying the same house of cards.
And so, who do you say I am?
If 50 people know guy, they will think of 50 different guys. If 50 people see guy, each a different reflected light on the retina.
If 50 people hear guy, each receives different vibrations on the ear.
Even my own thoughts cannot express the totality and truth of Guy. So what is real and true in the mental constructs of the brain?
Who can deny that they are not more than the function of their own mind, emotions, and bodily sensing? And much more so in what others think.
Sit for a minute, attempting to clear your mind’s activity of its ongoing chatter, and you will discover its difficulty to Silence and for which it cannot enter in the “Cloud of Unknowing” or the “Dark Night of the Soul.” Nor can it hold absolute Truth and Reality, for it can only be self-referential.
Who can I trust to say who I am, or called to be, but the Love of the Divine Creator who brought me into existence?
We are created by love, to live in love, for the sake of love. It is not easy to own and claim love as our true identity and deepest dignity. The only way is to value our yearning, treasure our wanting, embrace our incompleteness, and be overwhelmed by the beauty of our need. Love invites our response. Love needs our response.– Gerald May
For every child, there comes a time to remove the training wheels and learn to balance oneself. I was fortunate to have a dad help make that transition.
Growing up, we did not get new bikes. They were used-up bikes given to my dad for us kids. With him being a mechanic, he would fix what needed fixing. They always seemed a bit rickety and oversized.
My big day came one late afternoon when dad returned from work. The route was our shell driveway. To the right was a row of young oak trees. With dad balancing the bike, I climbed to seat myself and find my footing on the pedals. Once ready, off we went with dad convincing me how good I was doing – almost by myself. Sustained by a shared momentum, he decides I am ready, and lets go. I’m wobbling forward and on my way.
The next challenge was the turns on each end of the driveway. I had plenty of space to make wide turns. Or so, I thought. I had “almost” completed one of those full turns, and there in front was the oak tree some twenty feet ahead. It was drawing me like a magnet. For whatever reason, maybe anxiety, I was locked on target and couldn’t steer clear. My euphoria came to a sudden crash. I learned how abrasive the bark of a live oak is to human skin. I took a few moments to recover my senses and check my wounds. I got back on and continued to ride until dark.
This event remains a positive memory. I had the will, courage, and trust to take a step in maturity and liberation, a rite of passage: a movement forward
If one thinks of this earthly life as birth-maturation-death or passage to a destination, then we can see a pattern filled with letting go, falling, getting hurt, (hopefully) recovering, and then moving forward by maturation and by new means. At least in my own life, I have seen this pattern unfold many times.
Just like the oak, there are many inevitable, immovable, and tragic events in our lifetime.
After the crash, I could’ve asked to put the training wheels back on but did not. I could not unlearn the facts or the truth that I could now balance on just two wheels. The training wheels were right in themselves and timely. Still, it was probably their limitations preventing the development of skills necessary to balance and steer away from a coarse and immovable object blocking vision and path.
Think about it. How many times do we fall in life? What are its consequences? What are its choices? How does it change us; do we grow from it, or do we regress, or do we just stagnate?
If we are to journey this life with a desire to mature emotionally and spiritually, it is important to differentiate that even the bicycle (much like everything in the physical world) only has purpose insofar as it helps us to our destination. When it has become an obstacle to that purpose, it is best to seek what is higher.
Today, the oak tree still stands. Its girth is much larger, and its bark remains coarse. There remains some beauty about it, although it is being choked by nearby oaks and much starved of ground nutrients and sunlight. Not sure it will be around in another sixty years.
I was fortunate to grow up having a dad. I learned much from him, but I often think my dad could have taught his son a bit more about manhood. Maybe, I would have avoided some of the typical missteps that most young boys make in their maturation. And then again, perhaps he did, but I wasn’t listening.
Perhaps, I needed to encounter that oak tree and its consequences to grow so to detach from unnecessary appurtenances and appearances? Maybe it is in falling where we cross the threshold to gain eternal wisdom.
I leave you with a thirteen minute video from Fr. Richard Rohr speaking on letting go; False ego-Self/ True Soul-Self.
ps. I recognize that some kids never got a bike and never learned to ride. That may have been an unfortunate circumstance of your upbringing but it doesn’t mean you have to carry that loss your entire life. Buy your own then receive from those who have been given.
Could you not discern the Grace and gain its eternal Wisdom?
In the Old Testament, the bull symbolized the pagan god Baal. The bull and its violent act of goring are metaphors for much in this world, which destroys life.
The butterfly is a Greek symbol of the soul: that which gives life. Its metaphor represents life (caterpillar), death (chrysalis), and resurrected life (butterfly). It also represents our Christian life in the model of Christ’s passion, death, and resurrection.
Soul – Our Truest Self
“At the center of our being is a point of nothingness which is untouched by sin and by illusion, a point of pure truth, a point or spark which belongs entirely to God, which is never at our disposal, from which God disposes of our lives, which is inaccessible to the fantasies of our mind or the brutalities of our own will. This little point of nothingness and of absolute poverty is the pure glory of God in us.
It is so to speak His name written in us, as our poverty, as our indigence, as our dependence, as our sonship. It is like a pure diamond, blazing with the invisible light of heaven. It is in everybody, and if we could see it we would see these billion points of light coming together in the face and blaze of a sun that would make all the darkness and cruelty of life vanish completely.” (Merton)
Grief is too precious to waste
What follows is a deeply personal letter I wrote some twenty-two years ago to a small group of men and women who were experiencing deep loss and grief. With just a few minor changes, it is just as relevant today as it was back then.
I would like to share a quote that I recently read, ” My experience of grief is that you can take little sips of it, like very fine wine, and let go of it”.
It is at this place I find myself, and I feel it proper to no longer have an ‘active role in the Beginning Experience ministry. I have not perfectly overcome all the hurts but I carry with me: acceptance of the past, forgiveness of myself and my ex-spouse, trust in God’s Love for me and my children, and a personal freedom to live my life in the present and love again. I am confident that when this time arrives for each of us, it is truly “the good news”.
Even though I am comfortable with this decision, leaving the team is not easy for me. I have been blessed, immeasurably, during my time in this ministry.
When I reflect back over the past two years and consider what my relationship with each of you has meant to me, and my children, I thank God, especially … for bringing each of you into my life. These past two years have been an awesome period in my life. I have grown emotionally and spiritually and it is impossible for me to think of you separate from this.
I have experienced, for the first time, a kind of intimacy that I believe only reveals itself when two of God’s people, are willing to open themselves, reach out, and share themselves and their vulnerability with each other. To me, this is agape love.
Each one of you is a very special person. Participating in this ministry requires a willingness to look within oneself with the courage to face what we find, and share it with others. It is a giving of self that is difficult. It brings us closer to our humanity and to our God. It is a personal character trait that, I believe, fulfills at least in part God’s call to each of us. I personally admire each of you.
The phone calls, personal conversations, the cards, and most especially the hugs, have kept me lifted up during the most difficult time in my life and it will always be remembered.
The fellowship, shared in small group, hold a special place in my heart. I feel an extra-special relationship with each of you. I am grateful that you gave me your trust. Your thoughts expressed in your warm fuzzies were kind. I read them from time to time. It helps me to remember you and it never fails to lift me up. Thank you.
Once when I was sick in bed with the flu, a team member took it upon herself to prepare and send me some soup. When it arrived, her act of kindness and concern touched my heart and brought a tear to my eyes. Her act reflects the good and caring person that she is. Beyond the physical nourishment of the soup, it helped me realize that I am worthy of being cared for. I would say her name, but she knows who she is. Thank You.
To the special person that I have often asked for help in critiquing my talks for the weekend, thank you for your directness, honesty, and being there when I needed you.
To the two facilitators who invited me to the team. I have foremost given my best to follow the vision of this spiritual peer ministry. Without your invitation, these last two years would have been very different for me. I came to you at a time when I was struggling with many personal doubts. You helped me see and accept something about myself that is good.
Lastly, I want to thank all the clergy who involve themselves in this ministry. Their expression of humility, love, and commitment to the Lord Jesus Christ, have been an inspiration for me.
To my brothers and sisters, It is my prayer that each of you continues to give of yourself in ministry and always be reminded that our strength and healing lie in Jesus. May the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ and the love of God and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with all of you.
A Community of Saints
We do not walk alone. Amongst us, there is a mystical community of saints, a community of souls who convoke healing by giving and receiving compassion in this valley of tears. It is a much deeper meaning of the Church. And, if you are reading this, you are in this communion.
We are body and soul and do not escape the angst of many (small) deaths throughout life. Up until our final breath, recovery remains a hard walk that requires mostly inner work of “letting go” of illusion in exchange for more profound truths. Once received and honored, one can know his or her “truest” identity to experience joy and be a source of life for others: in the divine image. I know of no other way to satisfy that longing that we all carry in our hearts.
“Nothing ever goes away until it teaches us what we need to know.” P. Chodron
I’ve reached a point where I cannot overcome that remaining 2% of angst that life has brought me. It is a place to which has no rationale or justice. In other words, the bull has finally tired and shaken me loose.
I can now join with Christ on the cross and give that remaining remnant of angst to the Supreme Source and Giver of Life for the promise of new life.
This is my path forward and the faith and hope in Jesus Christ to which I will cling.
