Ruth and I are off to Provincetown for a week. It’s part vacation, part writing retreat. I’m going to try and get further on my sequel, and also think about what I want to do with my first novel. It needs editing, still, but soon, it will be ready to go out in the world in some form.

I’ll be taking with me a lot of books on writing, and thinking about what it means to be a writer. And, I’ll be bringing with me some good sci fi reading.

I’ll have more to say about writing in the next while - it’s been on my mind a lot, and I want to grapple with the issues around writing for me, and move my writing to the next level.

I have been reading a blog written by a friend from PSR, who is currently doing his CPE. And in writing him an email, I was thinking about this odd place I find myself in. Two years ago, I was an excited new seminarian, having heard “the call” and soaking in all that seminary had to offer me. I dove in head first, and even helped spearhead a contemplative spiritual practice group at PSR (which I hear is still going strong.)

And, two years later I am neck-deep in what is a secular vocation - even if I named my work blog “Zen and the art of Nonprofit Technology.” And the question seems right in front of me: what happened to my calling, really?

Of course, I have many answers to that question - and, ultimately, the calling never left me. I keep looking for ways to balance all of who I am - and bring my full presence to everything I do, whether it be my work, my writing, my life with my partner, or any other endeavor that I take up. I guess that’s really it - my full self includes that part of me that felt so deeply called to manifest my highest self, that self that is in alignment with all of Being.

I went to the North Quabbin Garlic and Arts Festival in Orange, Massachusetts today. It was, in its way, a pretty standard festival - lots of booths, and food, and stages for musicians, etc. It was fun, for sure. The “GQ” index (Ruth and I like to talk about the “GQ” or “Grooviness Quotient”) of the festival was quite high. It was a “trash-free” festival - everything was recycled or composted, which was wonderful. All of the electricity was generated either by biodeisel or solar power. There were lots of local farmers and local artists and artisans selling everything from, er, garlic, to special kinds of jams and mustards, to wood sculptures, to prints and varied kinds of artwork, etc.

As Ruth and I were driving to the festival, while she was twiddling the dials on the radio, she noticed that I rarely listen to music while I drive, but “people talking about depressing topics.” We then went on to talk about what point is it, really, to stay informed? What can we do differently, or better, if we hear how many thousands of dollars a minute is being poured into killing innocent people?

I was thinking about the fall of the Roman Empire, and what average Jane and Joe did while it crumbled. I don’t have an answer, but I did realize that there wasn’t much we could do except vote, make our voices heard when we can, and, I think perhaps most importantly - create the communities, organizations and culture that will, perhaps, grow out of the rotting hulk that is our society.

As Ghandi said, “be the change you want to be.”

Even when I decided, about 2 years ago now, to call myself a Christian, I couldn’t accept the “Jesus as Savior” perspective. It just never worked for me - this idea of substitutionary atonement - that Jesus died on the cross because we are such sinful beings, and there had to be some sacrifice to God on our behalf. And the “Jesus as example” (or, in the words of a good friend, “moral teacher” - the “what would Jesus do?” kind of way of looking at him) worked, but felt, well flat, and not really expressing how I felt, or the depth of what I thought. But, I felt kinda stuck in that place. A place of having to reject one perspective, and take on one that felt inadequate.

A few days ago I thought about another way of looking at Jesus, one that Christians basically don’t: as a spiritual teacher. A spiritual teacher in a more Eastern sense - an incredibly wise, fully enlightened being that points to the truth in many different ways, because it’s not really possible to state the truth - the truth is unknowable except in our own experience. Pointing to the truths we already deeply know, but need to be woken up to.

This perspective kind of woke me up, in a sense. When I started studying Bible in seminary a couple of years ago, I felt that the approach of progressive Christian theologians and bible scholars to the bible was, in a sense, unfortunate, because it was a series of subtractions from the text. I had liked the Jewish tradition better - which felt additive. The text could mean this, or this, or that, or maybe even this …

And, of course, the approach to think of Jesus as a spiritual teacher leads to a much more additive/interpretive approach to his words - because if he’s not speaking “the truth”, but, instead pointing to the truth that we already  know inside us (which is what all true spiritual teachers do), then exactly what he meant is basically up to each of us to decide.  And, in a sense, it doesn’t even matter so much whether we think or know he actually said something - whatever can bring us closer to our own understanding of truth is what matters.

Of course, to some people, this sounds problematic - because they want there to be something that is the truth - an unchangeable, unshakable thing they can depend on - and they search for that in the Bible. But that kind of truth can’t be found there. It can’t because it doesn’t exist.  The truth really is in each of us, in our own experience - we deeply know it, but often aren’t willing or able to acknowledge it.

I’ve admitted to being a web quiz junkie. This one is Chalice Chick’s fault. I always liked Calvin and Hobbes.

Your Score: A Bit Of Both

You are 50% Calvin and 50% Hobbes

Calvin & Hobbes, like a scruffy yin and yang, are in perfect balance within you. Like Calvin, you’re weird, a bit insecure, and can be a trouble-maker. But like Hobbes, you’re down to earth and sensitive. It’s a risk to say it here, after just a ten question test, but I’ll bet you’re smarter than most. Both Calvin and Hobbes are crafty, clever characters, and any one made from equal parts of each is a force to be reckoned with.