"Casting the beam..."

"If there's a shortcut
I'd have found it.
But there's no easy way around it.
Light of the world shine in me,
Love is the answer.
Shine from us all
set us free.
Love is the answer."

I have to tell you now, I loved the 1970's soft-rock sound of England Dan (Seals) & John Ford Coley. Their classic, "Light of the World," is still a "go to" song for jumpstarting my day.

And not so long ago, there was a day when it meant more to me than ever. At the beginning of summer I'd committed to participating in TMCYouth's Radical Acts project. As a spiritual community we took 18 of Jesus' most radical "acts" and vowed to actively live them.

Each day I'd choose an act or two to focus on. That morning I'd chosen "Cast the beam out of your own eye..."  A brief visit to a local coffeehouse was the perfect launch. Standing in line waiting to order I got my first opportunity to put it into action.

A young woman, just in front of me, had opened the bakery case and was rooting around in the shelves of scones and cookies.  I couldn't help but notice she was touching every item on her way to making her selection.  I was ready to say something, when I realized "This is it.  This is a perfect opportunity to practice what you've committed to."

So, I closed my eyes and thought of all the ways I could be more respectful of others. I committed to being more self-aware and less focused on the missteps of others.  That set me free to trust her to God's loving correction.

Throughout the morning I had more than enough opportunities to cast beam-sized splinters out of my own eyes.  And as grateful as I was for this self-awareness, it left me feeling sore and tired. I hadn't realized how active I'd become in assessing the correctness of other people's behaviors. This realization didn't leave me very happy or peaceful inside.  I didn't like what I was seeing in myself.

I decided to find a place that was virtually human-free, and take time to ponder what I was discovering about myself through this radical act. I drove to a wide section of the river that runs through our high-country valley, and made my way to a large boulder at its bank.

I closed my eyes against the searing light of late morning, leaned back against an larger adjoining boulder, and asked God, "what do you want me to see here?"

The thought immediately came, "open your eyes." So I did. Scanning the broad stretch of river I noticed a fly fisherman not 20 yards from where I was sitting. And as I watched him, I realized, he was "casting." Over and over again he carefully sent his fishing line out into the water.

The peace, joy, focus, and contentment on his face was unchanged by an empty hook. He was enjoying the beauty of the day, the dance of the line along the surface of the water, the hope that the fly he'd chosen was perfectly suited for the fish living in that stretch of the river. There was fluidity, precision, and alertness. It was a perfectly balanced and choreographed act of intention.

Then I thought about the word "beam." And as I stared into the middle distance over the river I saw it -- the beam of light that broke through the first bank of late morning clouds rolling in from over the mountains to the west.

The stanza from Mary Baker Eddy's poem, "Christmas Morn," which reads:

"Thou gentle beam
of living Love,
and deathless Life!
Truth infinite,
so far above all mortal strife
or cruel creed,
or earth-born taint:
Fill us today
with all Thou art..."

came alive for me.  As the fisherman's line, or filament, caught the sunlight and danced along the top of the water, so the light of love dances, without the need for reciprocity, on the changing waters of our day.  It is unmoved by how it is received.  It lights on the water for the pure joy of casting light.  

Jesus spoke to his disciples -- some of whom were fishermen -- in a language that would be meaningful to them.  Casting was a fishing term.  Elsewhere he is reported as having suggested to them that they "cast their nets on the right side..."  He wasn't asking them to throw their nets away.  He wasn't suggesting that they get as far away from their nets as possible.  He was reminding them that casting was a purposeful and rewarding activity. 

Casting the beam out of my own eyes wasn't just an act of self-awareness, self-correction, and fraught with self-disappointment. It was, in fact, an act of generosity based on my nature as the reflection of the one true light, God -- the light of living Love.  The light that is my life.

Instead of using my eyes to take in a false picture, apply spiritual truths to it, and spit back out a better sense of things...hoping that others would "get it."  I could see out from the heart of truth.

I could be the light of vision. Vision is different from sight.  Vision looks out from the universal Truth of things. It doesn't try to manipulate a false picture, it radiates -- it casts light, illuminating the beauty of what is true. It calls attention to what might not be obvious, but is very much there.

And this light, is heart-light. It shines from the depth of Love. It refuses to call attention to anything but the beautiful, good, and true.

Casting the beam out of one's own eye can be the most empowering and transformative thing you do today. I'm loving this last chorus from England Dan & John Ford Coley:

"And when you feel afraid
Love one another
When you've lost your way
Love one another
And when you're all alone
Love one another
And when you're far from home
Love one another
And when you're down and out
Love one another
And when your hopes run out
Love one another
And when you need a friend
Love one another
And when you're near the end
Love,
We've got to love,
We've got to love one another

Light of the world,
Shine from me, 
Love is the answer..."

It is the answer. A radical answer. 

offered with Love,

Kate

"God must be a cowboy at heart...."

"Campfire, some coffee,
from a tin cup in my hand.
Sure warms the fingers when it's cold

Playing an old guitar,
a friend I understand,
sure smoothes the wrinkles in my soul

And I think God must be a cowboy at heart.
'Cause He made wide-open spaces,  from the start.
He made grass and trees and mountains,
and a horse to be a friend.
And trails to lead old cowboys home again..."

There was a year or two when this Dan Seals album served as the background music during long, happy days of driving my old Jeep, along Colorado's Front Range, for office appointments and home visits.  Me 'n Dan singing "God Must Be a Cowboy..." at the top of our lungs...the window cranked down, my books next to me on the long bench seat,  and a perfect blue Rocky Mountain sky overhead.   

I like thinking of God as a Cowboy....it makes me smile.  I've had the privilege of knowing some pretty amazing cowboys.  Guys...and gals...like Bob Howe, Rusty Signor, "Bronco" Bill Webster, Dave Marshall, Don Gregory, Dustin Monie, Steve Chitwood, Rob Boucher, Kit and Ian Bartalos, Brooks Anderson, Leslie Miller, Linda Clarke, Allison Paddock Abdelnour, Pete Husack, Heather Barron, Jessie Orlet, Matthew Leon, Laura Southworth, Moffet Zoe, Kenny D"Evelyn, Kristin Voorhees (and oh my goodness, there are so many, many more...including all* the AU corral staff from the last few decades)...but, for me, the cowboy I've learned the most from, about what God, as a cowboy, might be like...is Lachlan Clarke. 

Lach is, first and foremost, a gentleman.  He is gentle.  And it is this gentleness, that makes him one of the strongest men I have ever known.  He is quiet.   Without saying a word, teenagers stop what they are doing...or saying...and wait quietly for instruction.  Horses are calmed, dogs stop barking, and the earth seems hushed in anticipation of his next move. 

He is alert.  If there ever, really, was a man with "eyes in the back of his head," it would be Lachlan Clarke.  He moves with the stealth of an Indian brave hunting in the forest, and on a cattle drive, he can anticipate a steer's next move with uncanny foresight. 

This summer while working with Lach, I learned a lot about why the metaphor of God, as a cowboy, might serve as a spiritual discipline.  I discovered that a cowboy is unfazed by shifting conditions, or scenes.  He is well-prepared, and stays deep in the saddle, whether in storm, or shine.  He is ever-alert to the direction of the wind, the quiver of a horse's flanks, the undulating, hard-packed pasture beneath her hooves, the scents of crushed mountain yarrow, and the evolving gold of an aspen-filled valley.  He is alert, but unruffled by fast-approaching weather patterns...making course corrections, and trail changes without reaction, or remark. 

No matter how alarming the picture, a cowboy...or at least the ones I've known, and especially Lachlan Clarke...takes it in stride.  It's not a problem, just another opportunity to put a developed skillset to use...cleaning, bandaging, repairing, navigating, nursing, all done without fear, or trembling.    He knows that the real work happens in the heart.  He is calm, mentally disciplined, unruffled.  He has an entire herd of horses (and sometimes, kids and cattle) reading the winds of his emotional leadership, he can't afford to react...so he doesn't.

I could go on and on. 

A cowboy's love for the entire earth...dry, dusty pastures, verdant mountain valleys, long hot days, clear, cold nights under a bowl of stars with a "horse to be a friend," a mug of something hot in his hands, and a guitar for conversation...it's all good.  His ability to lead without saying a word...to signal a change of direction, with a hand so gentle, that those watching have no idea that a finger even twitched.

But what Lach most taught me this summer, about God as a cowboy, was the gentle strength of love.  Love without words, love that encourages with the tenderness of a whisper, love that is firm, love that lets go, love that has the courage to do what needs to be done, love that laughs, and sings, and says, "no," while making you just so glad that you were deserving of his correction. 

I learned practical lessons about the love that listens with every cell of its entire being, while still aware of everything else around him.  About the love that comforts with one smooth stroke along the long neck of a mare who is skittish and uncertain in a new setting.  I learned about the love that persists long after everyone else has gone to the dining room for dinner, and is up before dawn.  I learned that an entire herd will stand at the fence line waiting for his boots on the porch of his cabin in the morning, or his truck on the road at dinnertime...and I learned that even the most distracted teen will give his/her undivided attention to the kind of love that puts up with "no nonsense," but loves beyond mistake or failing. 

Yes, I do think that God must be a cowboy at heart, because not only did He make "wide open spaces from the start," but because all the cowboys (and cowgirls) I know have taught me to trust in the unseen, listen for the unheard, wait for the unexpected, and love with the unparalleled, unfathomable, incomparable tenderness founded in real strength...strong faith, hope, and respect for God's silent power, tender mercy, and amazing grace.

Thanks Lach, Linda..and all the amazing horses who have taught us immeasurable lessons in gentleness, strength, patience, perserverence, trust, and grace...especially to our dear Espresso who taught me to fly...

Kate
Kate Robertson, CS

[photo credit:  Ashley Bay 2010]

*there are so many of you who have taught me the gifts of divine Love, from the saddle of a horse...I wish I could name you, each and all, here...but the list would be so long I would never get this posted.  Please know that you are there in my heart, and between the lines. Thank you for teaching my daughters about God from this vantage point.  

Enduring Friendships

Mary Baker Eddy, in her autobiographical work, Retrospection and Introspection, has this to say about friendships:

     "There are no greater miracles known to earth than perfection and an unbroken friendship."

Of all the remarkable things that this 19th century thought leader has to say about relationships, this is one of the most promising...and demanding.

I don't know about the rest of you, but friendship is something that hasn't always come easily for me.  As a young woman it was not always easy for me to penetrate beyond the first moments of discovering what we had in common and sharing our dreams, to the deeper demands of following through on returning a phone call or NOT cancelling a "date" because "the guy" (of the hour or week or year) had something better (usually not) in mind.

What I had begun to call friendships were really acquaintances with whom I had, in a moment of self-revelation, shared some personal secret or dream or event with.  These were not really friendships, as I was to learn.  

Friendships are, above all else, enduring.  Just as it is easy to "fall in love" and much harder to "stay in love"...it is easier to find a "friend" than to be one worth keeping.   Friendship is, at least for me, as Eddy's is quoted above as saying, a great miracle.   It is a gift of discovery...and the discovery is more in what friendship has taught me about myself than the other person.  In fact, I don't know that you can ever really judge someone else as a friend because being a friend requires facing down the interior fences, boundaries, apathy, and laziness that only we can know we are breaking through.   The conditions of the heart, the "thus far and no farthers"  we think we can't go beyond.  If friendship were just about doing what it is that is fun, or enjoyable, or self-satisfying, there would be no miracle involved.  A miracle is that which is divinely natural, however humanly surprising.  Loving beyond what is easy and comfortable is divinely natural to us as "chidlren of God", but is surprising to us as humans who sometimes seek self-indulgence over the spiritual demands of growth in grace.  

My dearest friend is that person who has held my toes to the fire when I wanted to quit.  The person who demands that I live up to my true, loving self, even when I want to just be angry for a while.  My dearest friend is the one who tells me that my daughter is not my clone, but deserves the freedom to discover her own path rather than follow mine.  My dearest friend is the one who won't let me grouse or complain (even when I want to... so very desperately and even feel ever so justified in doing so) but reminds me of how much I have to be grateful for.  Eddy asks the question in her book Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures, "If a friend informs us of a fault, do we listen patiently to  the rebuke and credit what is said?"  She expected some very exacting care from someone who would be a friend.

It's taken me a long time to discover how rare a true, enduring, unbroken friendship is.  I've learned that not every "acquaintance" (no matter how lovely and wonderful the phone calls and lunches are) becomes a friendship.  I try to never miss the opportunity to return a phone call or respond to an email.  I have learned that this kind of vigilent persistence is a gift I give myself.  In doing so I open my life and my heart to someone else's life and in the concrescence of that moment something truly miraculous happens.....love.  We each give up something of ourselves, we surrender something we thought was ours alone to control and harbor...a moment in a busy day, a rigidly held opinion, a plan of action, resentment, fear...and allow someone else to demand that we revisit it from the perspective of that better self that a friend always expects us to be.

The tender care we devote to nurturing these blessed, God-appointed relationships is a gift of hope we give ourselves....our children, and the world.  To be persistent in finding common ground, to keep that unbroken which in today's world seems so fragile...this is a miracle that we have the opportunity of experiencing and witness each and everyday. 

If you are feeling like it's been a while since you've experienced a miracle in your life, pick up the phone and call a friend...be a friend...repair what may seem to be broken and learn something about the breadth and depth of your own heart.   As Eddy also says, "One marvels that a friend can ever seem less than beautiful."   I think there is nothing so beautiful as the voice someone who knows you for who you are in God's eyes, not who you see in the mirror or in the eyes of the world.

Remember Eddy said, "There are NO [emphasis added] greater miracles known to earth than perfection and an unbroken friendship."   Not one of the great miracles, or a great miracle among many, but no greater miracle!  So whether discovering an unbroken friendship with your daughter, your husband, your neighbor or your former enemy is the adventure of the day...embrace it...I know of no better place to discover why the Lord's Prayer is all in the language of "our", "us" and "we" rather than, "I, me, and mine". 

Let today be the day that you discover "the greatest miracle known to earth"....I think Dan Seals says it beautifully, in his song from the mid 1980s called "One Friend" :

I always thought you were the best
I guess I always will.
I always thought that we were blessed
And I feel that way still.
Sometimes we took the hard road
But we always saw it through.

If I had only one friend left
I'd want it to be you.

Sometimes the world was on our side
Sometimes it wasn't fair.
Sometimes it gave a helping hand
Sometimes we didn't care.

'Cause when we were together
It made the dream come true.

If I had only one friend left
I'd want it to be you.

Someone who understands me
And knows me inside out.
Helps keep me together
And believes without a doubt,
That I could move a mountain
Someone to tell it to.

If I had only one friend left
I'd want it to be you.