Control Valve

These are the controls

(levers and wheels)

strategically placed

to manage thoughts

and the behaviors that

flow through them.

They are unknown 

to us as children

though with time 

and guidance from

patient parents

we learn of their 

existence and our 

ability to utilize them. 

Unfortunately, many are 

deprived of this 

kind of instruction

and spend their lives

with remedy in reach

but no way to access it.

And the pressure builds.

***

The Faith Mission Mirage

It is a testament to my time here that I’ve witnessed the slow changing of this fair (yet cloudy) city from the windows of Grant Medical Center over the past decade.

From the upper floors and looking directly north in my first few years here I could see the backside of a three story nondescript building that I thought was the Faith Mission shelter for homeless folks in this part of the city.  I would see its transient residents in our ER on a weekly basis and even up on the medical floor if their health had deteriorated to the point of needing actual hospitalization.  

A common scenario would be that they’d somehow managed to lose their bed at the Mission for a variety of reasons to include infraction of rules and so find their way to our ER with no other place to stay and the weather making sleeping outside uncomfortable if not potentially treacherous.  This time-honored strategy has as its linchpin the need to insist that one has “suicidal thoughts”, otherwise, without significant physical symptoms, one would be streeted in short order.

So this connection in my mind to the building in question continued even as they started to tear it down, eventually leaving a large hole in the ground after several months.  And that building-sized hole sat empty (except for a sizable pond that formed on rainy days) for at least a year or two before construction began to fill it up again.

I watched the new structure grow over the course of a two year period that started as an obvious parking garage for the first few stories but then transitioned into rooms rising another several stories.  It looked like a giant hive with its hollow spaces honeycombing the building and workers swarming in and out, up and down, with their bright-colored hard hats.

At some point in this timeframe my daughter began taking ballet classes five or so blocks directly north of Grant.  My wife was the usual chauffeur, but on one occasion I took her to her class and made a wrong turn a block south of the ballet facility.  The road dead-ended in front of a building which had people loitering about on the steps and stoop looking fairly bedraggled and bereft of a place to go.  Beside the entrance in large letters was “Faith Mission.”

So I was off by at least three blocks as to where I’d thought this place was located but correct about it being directly north of Grant.  The new building with its red decorative facade has turned out to be yet another swanky apartment building in this part of the city with several others recently finished or in the process of construction.  It seems rather ironic that a homeless shelter exists in the midst of a housing explosion.  I imagine a significant number of these unfortunate folks will continue to migrate down Grant Avenue when the Mission becomes unavailable to them and into our ER telling stories of wanting to “walk into traffic” but really only needing a place to stay.

***

Singing the Silmarillion

It was a kind of epiphany during the Divine Liturgy today.  We were singing about St. Macarius the Great of Egypt (300-391 AD) this morning and it hit me... we are singing The Silmarillion!  I’ve recently been re-reading that book by JRR Tolkien and becoming immersed in its beautiful imagery and subtle theology as it lays out the history, myths and legends of Middle Earth.  

It was St. Macarius who famously said, “The heart itself is but a small vessel, yet dragons are there, and there are also lions; there are poisonous beasts and all the treasures of evil. But there too is God, the angels, the life and the kingdom, the light and the apostles, the heavenly cities and the treasuries of grace—all things are there.”

***

In retrospect it was in my early to mid-twenties that I first read The Silmarillion when I was living overseas in South Korea feeling lost and alone.  There seemed to be little mystery left in life, though not from a lack of looking for it in this strange (to me) and exotic culture.  My childhood faith was waning with nothing seemingly to replace it.  The stories from The Silmarillion stoked a hunger for something ancient, profound, and intellectually/spiritually deep.  But where was I to find such a thing?  It was in this time period of my life that the Orthodox Church first came into my awareness and it quickly pulled me into its powerful current.

***

As the Divine Liturgy and other services unfold day in and day out throughout the year we sing the stories and history of the church reaching back to the moment of creation itself and even beyond to the circle of love and fellowship that exists outside of time between the persons of the Holy Trinity in the Godhead.  There also we find the problem of evil and the exile of Lucifer who in his beauty and power sought to assume to himself that which was for God alone.  These recurring services with the cycles of feasts and their preparatory fasts sanctify time and in a paradoxical way point to God’s kingdom which is not bound by time.

It is very much like the story of the corruption of Melkor, his conflict with the celestial powers of the Ainur & Maiar, and its effects on elves and men as the children of Ilúvatar.  It hints at the deeper story that takes evil into account and how it is inexplicably used for the ultimate healing of that which was sickened subsequent to the creation of our world.

***

It was all there this morning intermingled in the stories of The Silmarillion in my mind with touching points throughout the Divine Liturgy.  The parallels are numerous and nearly comprehensive.  It seems I am living out an epic adventure that may be partially or wholly outside my awareness, until I start to listen to what I am actually singing and it becomes nearly overwhelming in its beauty and power.  

***

The Silmarillion

The Silmarillion.  To say it is to sing it.  

I found a culled copy at our local library this week while looking for a book for my son that he needed for school.  Two dollars for the yellowed hardback and it was a done deal.  How could I say no?  Christopher Tolkien just passed this week at 95 years of age and there was his name on the title page, “edited by Christoper Tolkien.”  It was as if John Ronald Reuel himself was reaching down through time and eternity to drop it into my lap.

It’s been decades since I first read it but I still have the image cast in my mind of Fingolfin riding in fury to challenge Morgoth in single epic combat, his diminutive figure burning defiantly before the monstrous Dark Lord.  

I was witness to the creation of the world through the Music of the Ainur.  

I remember the heaviness of heart I felt at the tragic love story of Beren and Lúthien.  

And how thrilling it was to discover in its pages that Gandalf was in fact one of the Maiar!  An angelic-like being created to serve the king of the gods, Manwë.  This was no plot twist inserted into a novel or movie.  There was no internet to explain it all to me back then, but simply the fruit of having read the Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings as a teen and then finding it tucked into their histories via the Silmarillion as a young man.

The copy I had back then was a golden paperback edition I found in a used bookstore in DongDuCheon, Korea.  It was one of my first opportunities to leave the Army base after we’d returned from our three month rotation on the DMZ where we’d been sleeping in tents, isolated from the wider world.  We were basically told to stay in the area that surrounded the main entrance to our base which catered to GI’s and was somewhat isolated from the town proper.  

I eagerly explored these streets and alleyways where the majority of shops were for clothing with knock-off designer brands.  Not satisfied with this I kept pushing deeper until I discovered a small shop with books piled in its front windows.  It was dark, dirty, and disorganized with books on shelves, but also many in piles and lined up on the floors.  Books have always been like a comfort food for me and I found myself happily moving through this cluttered space and re-energizing after months of intellectual and material deprivation.

And there it was... The Silmarillion shining forth with its golden cover like treasure left in a musty cave surrounded by pirate detritus.  It was like being a scavenger in a SciFi story that stumbles upon a portal amongst ancient ruins that transports him to an exotic world of beauty and wonder.  Yet it was real and I was that lucky scavenger.

The Fog

When the fog 

descends on the city

the fountained piper boy 

flutes his warning

(purse, breathe)

*blow*

“Slow down

waking-up-world”

fluidly exhaled even while

denuded & cold.

Listen to 

him.

***

Shadows on the Floor

He walks into the front living room 

where the sun is shining 

through the large picture window 

and wades through the shadows 

of bare tree branches on the floor, 

their leaves long since dissolved 

in the empty belly of winter.  

His thoughts are scattered 

or at least fixed on too many possibilities 

which brings him to the reality 

that he is on the downslope of life 

and filled with the uncertainty

of what things are even still attainable 

before his time is up.  

For a moment he cannot remember 

why he entered the room 

but then the smell of coffee 

reminds him that he needs the cup 

to organize himself and 

clear the brambles in his brain

in order to create his poems.  

With a few sips and a perch 

at the dining room table he begins to write: 

“He walks into the front living room...”

***

Do Not Fear the Shadow

Shadows mean 

the sun is shining

or being reflected 

by the moon in

a midwinter’s night sky.

The object blocking 

the light is impermanent 

at best and will 

dissipate when the 

time is right.

Hold on, do not 

fear the shadow.

It’s not the absence

of light but proof

of its existence.

***