Action is Everything served it's purpose. When I set out back around the world in 2008, I wrote this:
"Almost 3 years ago, I left home to chase a dream in India. I thought to document the trip and thought to blog it out, using the same interface I'm using now. Ah, the intention good, the execution not so much. The Road to Delhi and Other Tales faltered out of the starting gate, falling prey to a number of computer glitches, my own naive belief that blogging without a personal computer would be a breeze and internet connections that rivaled turtles and last period trig classes for speed.
Action is Everything seeks new ground. Not as bold in ambition. Not seeking to be the revelation of my first world journey. Instead, exploring. Reflecting. And a love letter to home.
And those I wish to, with me, walk."
Writing throughout the course of that journey brought with it many things. Reflection. Relationship. Transformation. Through the breezes and slogs of it, the manifest commitment to you and to myself shaped the entire experience for the better. The words will remain. And I feel it will carry on, even though it's time has come to an end.
My plan to write was a good one. But as all plans must, it's time to change. A change that matches a new direction in creativity, community and faith.
As I left Cambodia and subsequently Europe this summer, music emerged. For the past few years, I've played and written more music than I ever have in my life, but recorded very little of it. I've thought to partner with a producer and lay down some tracks. That may still happen. But I've been encouraged to use the tools in my hands at the moment to share it.
So as one door closes, a new one opens. I spoke with a dear friend of mine, Jeff, and he was also keen to set up a space where we could share music for our friends, family and those we meet along the way. A gifted webman, Jeff crafted a site within hours and it's already open for visit at http://www.nowactlikeit.com/music/
It's a continuation of the conversation. And I'm thankful for you and how that exchange has carried on so far. I hope that there will be a time when the pen and paper return to story-telling and reflections in prose, but for now, let the music ring.
Action is Everything,
Chris
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Rilke Dropping Rhymes
Maybe its that I don't feel that I have much to add to the discussion these days aside from a lot of questions and the rare glimpse of truth. Or maybe I'm getting lazy in my second year of blogging. I'd like to call it a shift in priorities. I've been much more drawn to my guitar and music in terms of creativity/expression in the past weeks and so feel keep the focus there for a while. I think it will mean a shift in style for the blog, moving from lengthier pieces to shorter, more compact bits.
Out of a number of conversations in the last week, I've heard heaps of wisdom. This one resonated particularly well with my current flow.
“Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves like locked rooms and like books that are written in a very foreign language. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.”
Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet 1934
Out of a number of conversations in the last week, I've heard heaps of wisdom. This one resonated particularly well with my current flow.
“Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves like locked rooms and like books that are written in a very foreign language. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.”
Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet 1934
Friday, July 10, 2009
Silence
From Thomas Merton's book "Contemplative Prayer". He quotes the Syrian monk, Isaac of Niniveh:
"Many are avidly seeking but they alone find who remain in continual silence....Every man who delights in a multitude of words, even though he says admirable things, is empty within. If you love truth, be a lover of silence. Silence like the sunlight will in you in God and will deliver you from the phantoms of ignorance. Silence will unite you to God himself...
More than all things love silence: it brings you a fruit that tongue cannot describe. In the beginning we have to force ourselves to be silent. But then there is born something that draws us to silence. May God give you an experience of this "something" that is born of silence. If only you practice this, untold light will dawn on you in consequence...after a while a certain sweetness is born in the heart of this exercise and the body is drawn almost by force to remain in silence."
"Many are avidly seeking but they alone find who remain in continual silence....Every man who delights in a multitude of words, even though he says admirable things, is empty within. If you love truth, be a lover of silence. Silence like the sunlight will in you in God and will deliver you from the phantoms of ignorance. Silence will unite you to God himself...
More than all things love silence: it brings you a fruit that tongue cannot describe. In the beginning we have to force ourselves to be silent. But then there is born something that draws us to silence. May God give you an experience of this "something" that is born of silence. If only you practice this, untold light will dawn on you in consequence...after a while a certain sweetness is born in the heart of this exercise and the body is drawn almost by force to remain in silence."
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Core and Circumference One: Love on a Mountain
Hong Kong’s spectacular visual nature – her green mountains meshing with her incredible skyscrapers – struck me first, but I’ll always remember my time there for the way my heart grew beyond my personal limits.
After a month in Taiwan, we had the privilege of being the first Action for Life program invited to make a presentation at a university. It was an electric session dedicated to the theme of “personal change”. I had the opportunity to tell a story about rebuilding a relationship that had nearly collapsed. While I spoke the words, I felt fresh and alive and I gave to the students with a sense of freedom and hope.
At that point, I couldn’t identify the feeling, but later in the week I took a day in silent reflection to climb the mountain behind our hostel. As I reached the summit, I sat down on an outcropping of rocks and listened to my heart beat, my lungs breathe and felt the blood pulsing through my body. My spirit of gratitude for a well-working body quickly met an overwhelming and quite unexpected feeling of love.
Looking over the massive cityscape, I realized that I had a deep love for my team. For all of their talents and faults, their difficult parts and the easy parts, I loved each of them. I’d never experienced a sense of love in such a generous way. Most remarkably, I realized that the love came from a different source. This was no longer the labor of my own will to care for my teammates, but I felt as though I was now drawing on a much deeper and enduring spiritual strength.
Like a blend of freedom and joy, the core within me stirred deeply. Liberation, not for its own sake, but with a purpose. And not of my own will, but of something far beyond it. Less than a self-absorbed victory and more like riding on a golden chariot carried by streaking and beautiful steeds. Just less of me. More of everyone and everything else. Filled with the great depth. And released.
After a month in Taiwan, we had the privilege of being the first Action for Life program invited to make a presentation at a university. It was an electric session dedicated to the theme of “personal change”. I had the opportunity to tell a story about rebuilding a relationship that had nearly collapsed. While I spoke the words, I felt fresh and alive and I gave to the students with a sense of freedom and hope.
At that point, I couldn’t identify the feeling, but later in the week I took a day in silent reflection to climb the mountain behind our hostel. As I reached the summit, I sat down on an outcropping of rocks and listened to my heart beat, my lungs breathe and felt the blood pulsing through my body. My spirit of gratitude for a well-working body quickly met an overwhelming and quite unexpected feeling of love.
Looking over the massive cityscape, I realized that I had a deep love for my team. For all of their talents and faults, their difficult parts and the easy parts, I loved each of them. I’d never experienced a sense of love in such a generous way. Most remarkably, I realized that the love came from a different source. This was no longer the labor of my own will to care for my teammates, but I felt as though I was now drawing on a much deeper and enduring spiritual strength.
Like a blend of freedom and joy, the core within me stirred deeply. Liberation, not for its own sake, but with a purpose. And not of my own will, but of something far beyond it. Less than a self-absorbed victory and more like riding on a golden chariot carried by streaking and beautiful steeds. Just less of me. More of everyone and everything else. Filled with the great depth. And released.
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