New spontaneous random thoughts as I sit in my bed and think

Where have I been? You may ask this, and I don’t blame you. I have been terrible at keeping up with this “blog.” And why? I love to write, so it shouldn’t be a problem! Well, as it turns out, I love to write by hand, and I see writing on the computer as a task.  But I’m doing it now, I just meditated, and I’m in a good, positive state of mind, so let’s go.

I’ve been many places lately. I have gone on 3 retreats in the past 3 weeks and will be going on another in 2 days. I went on a Kairos retreat, something I have not experienced since I was a senior in high school, and I saw students open up to themselves at such a profound and vulnerable level that I was brought continuously to tears. True magnificence shone through these brave seniors as they put all their deepest secrets on the line in front of everyone, and I saw inspiration in their struggles.

I have been playing a lot of guitar. I dig it. Oh ya, I’m giving lessons now too. For the first time in my life. Two days a week. Just started on Monday. It’s an awesome challenge, and I am seeing my role as “teacher” expand as I attempt to communicate what playing the guitar is all about. It is crazy to watch someone who has never picked up a guitar struggle to hold basic chords, and I see myself in him as I try my best to show him the way.

I’ve also been tutoring students in English. I am helping a foreign exchange student from Italy in grammar and essay writing. He has a positive attitude about learning that is rare in American students, and it is a breath of fresh air to see such an enthusiastic young gent.

I applied to eight grad schools for creative writing. I still have not heard back. I am nervous, and also very apprehensive… but excited all the while. Who knows what will happen… it’d be sweet to do writing though, I must say.

This week in my class has been epic. Amazing discussions. I teach one class in a room that can only be described as a dungeon. It is very difficult to teach in such a place and keep the attention of freshmen with a naturally limited attention span, for they feel trapped. Our conversations are usually offly constrained. Well, it was a nice day outside, so I decided that we’ll move class outside. They were stoked. We went outside and sat in a circle and had the best discussion I have had with students in my experience as a teacher. Our topic was the “stream of consciousness” and how our thoughts flow on like a river, always changing, always moving, often out of our control. I explained to them how we can never experience the same state of mind two times and that each moment brings a perspective that is entirely fresh. They were completely on board and expanded my metaphors. One student said “Imagine a stream. You see a lily pad go by floating on the stream. You watch it go, and you remember it. But it moves on, and you can’t get it back. But it stuck out from the rest, so you remember it.” He was making the point that some ideas in our ongoing stream of thought grab our attention like this lily pad, and we find significance in them and remember them. But if we are to hold on to them and cling desperately, we will inevitably suffer, for we are trying to make a dam in the river’s flow. The idea is good, the idea is illuminating, but the stream of thought flows on further, and who is to say what incredible places it may lead to.

I’ve been reading the Tibetan Book of the Dead. It is the Tibetan Buddhist sacred text that prepares the living soul for the “intermediate state” immediately following death in which the soul encounters all of the illusions of reality (Buddhist don’t use the word “soul”, but in our Western mentality, it allows us to make a close enough connection to their far more abstract language describing our inner essence.) Well, most souls are not prepared for death, and in this intermediate state, they encounter negative illusions brought forth by all of the anxieties and pains they have clung to their entire lives. They are sucked back down the vortex in their fear and anger and birthed back into the ongoing cycle of karma, trapped in samsara, reincarnated in our cyclic existence. What the Tibetan Book of the Dead attempts to do is prepare the soul for this intermediate state so that it may transcend beyond the negative illusions trying to bring it down and finally be liberated into union with the meditational deities living in the realm beyond. I figure it’s a good thing to try out.

I gotta say, this year has been great. I’ve learned so much about myself and other people. I’ve connected to High School students in a way I could have never imagined. There is too much to tell… I wish I could find a way to share it all with you. Lately, so many students keep asking me if I’m staying, hoping that I am. It is flattering to hear from them. They are so honest… they tell me that they want me to stay and that they like having me around. My freshmen tell me that they love my class. Today, we were talking about the “muse,” the ancient sources of artistic inspiration, and since I had my guitar in class, I told the class that it was time to summon the muse. I told them to lay down a beat, and a kid started beat-boxing a cool rhythm. I felt the rhythm and started jamming in Bminor blues, spontaneously, randomly. More kids started to get into it. By the time the jam session was coming to a close, most of the kids in class were contributing something to the rhythm, whether it was pounding on desks, making noises, or just moving and flowing with it. We ended and everyone cheered. There was a connection we cultivated that is none other than God’s presence so often unseen. So fun… so fun.

Nine days before spring break. I’m going to San Diego. Hooray!

Inspiration is all around us guys. It is spontaneous, and it takes an effort, a willingness, and openness. You all have it, you just gotta find it in you. I’ve got my ways of finding it, but those aren’t your ways. Life is not about closing off opportunities; it is about freeing them, opening up to them, embracing them. Yes, each moment is an infinite series of opportunities… and each moment is far too magnificent and important to pass them up. Don’t waste away your life, now is not the time for that… now is the time to embrace it all and drink it in. Find your passion! Go get some!

Mindfulness

Mindfulness.

It is truly miraculous when you realize all that is happening. So much is occurring at every single moment that our senses are continually overwhelmed, unable to process the multitudes of stimuli they are continuously encountering. It is such a small portion of the universe that we are able to perceive, yet when we immerse ourselves fully in the moment devote our entire concentration to recognizing what is going on around us, we are amazed with the truly remarkable reality that we are in. For it is impossible to be in today’s society without ever getting caught up in “the stuff”—our worries, fears, anxieties, hopes, ideas… yesterday’s memories, tomorrow’s ambitions… how do we release ourselves from this? We enter slowly and easily into the breath, flowing in and out of us like a cool mountain stream, and we realize we are always in communion with our thoughts, we simply may not have been aware. So much is to be loved, so much is to be embraced… it is time to get out of the black hole you are so often in and for once experience the world around you, like you did as a child so long ago.

These last two days were very difficult. I went on a retreat this past weekend in which all of the ASC guys from all the different schools got together (14 of us) and came back to ourselves in the relaxing environment of Green Hills in St. Louis. We discussed all that has happened, shared stories, had personal time for reflection, and just chilled with cigars and good tunes. It was an incredible time that gave me a great step back from all that I have been experiencing, allowing me to put it all in perspective and see through a pure lens the blessings I have day in and day out. We came back on Sunday and I mistakenly allowed the idea to form that all will be different upon returning and I will have a greater appreciation than ever of the situation I am in. I got back to Rockhurst, and immediately I realized I was very wrong. All was the exact same, nothing changed. I went to school Monday and found myself thrust right back into the routine I had gotten out of. I felt overwhelmed. I had various negative experiences throughout the day, such as a Father of a student of mind coming down on my for some of my methods, various teachers annoyingly implying that I had something to do with the juniors who smoked pot on the recent Junior Retreat I was a part of, a very squirrely and annoying final class, and a good friend among the faculty, an older man, look at me like I was crazy and tell me I’m giving off “weird vibes” and refusing to communicate about it as I tried to. I went home in a strange mood. I was not depressed, for these situations cannot determine my happiness or unhappiness, but I found myself having a very difficult time facing the reality of my situation, realizing that I am in one place and will be for still quite some time. For my desire is to be on the move, to travel… and I was put face to face with a reality that now is not the time for movement.

And after school, I checked my mailbox and found a book that I ordered called The Miracle of Mindfulness: A Manual on Meditation by the Vietnamese Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hanh. I began to read it and found that all his words spoke so clearly to my situation, reminding me that as I allow myself to be caught up in situations that are not present, I remove myself from the miracle of all that is happening. The goal is not to feel blissfully and overwhelmingly happy at all moments… the goal is merely to accept and embrace all moments, even the moments of pain or displeasure. For these moments are just as fundamental to our reality as the moments of bliss. We must not fight unpleasant feelings. We must simply acknowledge their existence, recognize them as a dynamic and irreplaceable aspect of our reality, and move into the moment. For the breath is always there, and we must continuously return to its warm embrace.

I woke up this morning in a similar state of being underwhelmed. I felt trapped, like I needed more, like I need to get out. A strange feeling that is difficult to begin a day with. To top it off, I had not yet planned my lesson and had about an hour to do so. I began to reflect and think about what I could do for the day. I could whip up a last minute powerpoint about the formation of the Church and how Catholicism came to be. But this seemed so underwhelming. Neither I nor the students would get something out of this… it’d be another series of facts that go in one ear and out the other, mere words for the students to memorize. So I decided to enter into the flow of the day, put my ideas and my ego aside, and lead my classes in meditation. There is always a fear in doing so, a fear that I will be judged, for I truly have to be myself and get a bit “weird” in order to be entirely authentic… I have to let all my pride go and allow the words to flow from a source outside myself, or at least outside my consciousness. I decided to hell with it, let’s just go for it. I put my nervousness aside and led 3 different classes of 20-26 boys in a 40 minute meditation (I was subbing one class and decided to do it there as well.) It was one of the best days of the year. I now sit here at the end of the day, about to go tutor kids in English, feeling a sense of calmness and presence I rarely feel at the end of busy days. It allowed me to realize the futility of the desires I felt and the fears I encountered over the last 2 days, and it allowed me to realize that I have been wrapped up in thoughts rather than remaining in control. After each class, multiple students came over to thank me, asking if we could meditate more often, and informing me that it was one of the best classes so far. They responded so well, following all the words I put out there, approaching it with a seriousness that can be difficult to find in Freshmen, and truly embracing the moment. After we meditated we discussed all we felt, and they truly showed awareness in their words. One student even said that when he was focusing on one point and breathing deeply, he saw the room vibrating and swaying, gaining a deeper glimpse into illusory reality, a very common experience once one gets deeper into meditation. Truly fantastic. Of course the other kids responded with “What are you smokin’ Tommy?? I think you’re on something!” but I informed them this is quite common and that Buddhist thought maintains that once one has such experiences, on is closer than ever to Enlightenment.

I have come to realize more than ever how futile doubts and fears are. They cannot hold you back. Only you can hold yourself back by allowing them to control you. You are always in control. Come to your breath when you are in doubt; nothing can take control of you. Nothing can stop the endless flow of this miraculous reality all around you. Now is the time. The time to be mindful. The time to become aware.

Meditations and Experiences

Some amazing things have happened lately. If only a blog entry could communicate all I've experienced. These kids I am teaching have reached me in a way I never thought possible, they have touched my very soul without even trying. The laughs and smiles of the cross country guys, the way they joke around, the way they run up to me with big smiles on their faces when I arrive at practice, the humanity revealed through them. I had a Sophomore on the team come up to me the other day during school and tell me his friend died the night before from an ATV accident. The kid telling me is an extremely goofy kid, so loving, but always wanting to pull pranks and mess around. As he told me, I saw a film of tears well up in his eyes, tears of confusion and grief, for he had no idea how to react. I sat there and stared through open eyes and told him I'm here for him in any way, words that are empty in such circumstances for what could be said to eradicate such grief? It was such an honest and touching moment, and I will always remember it.
The cross country guys had State this past weekend. They got 5th, the best Rockhurst has ever done, and our #1 guy won the race. Incredible. He was ecstatic after, overwhelmed with emotion, and his emotion became everyones. He was giving hugs all around to the dozens of guys that came out to support him and within a flood of tears. At some point in the ecstasy, he came over to me and put his arms around me, laying his head on my shoulder, crying heavy tears of joy. I hugged him back and he did not let go. Such authentic giving, not afraid of anything. It was a moment powerful beyond words, like he was telling me I actually have done something for his life. I felt tears come to my own eyes.
Too many more amazing moments to count. Walking down the hallways I'm always greeted with goofy smiles of guys on the team or guys from class or guys I have subbed for, always wanting to slap hands or exchange silly moments. They are rejuvenating. These kids fuel me with a new energy, and they have no idea they are doing it. So many laughs throughout the day. The other day I asked my class if they had ever heard of Sigmund Freud, and a guy raised his hand and asked "Didn't he get eaten by tigers?" I corrected him saying "No, that is Sigfried and Roy, but close." So many unexpected and amazing moments.

Switching gears. I've been meditating a lot lately. Deepening the ole consciousness. The other day I tried something new. I call it "Meditative Typing." I got on the ground in the half lotus posture and put my typewriter in front of me. I meditated and as insights came, I wrote them down as best I could. The emphasis was on the meditation but the words were coming and asking to be recorded. So I wrote down my meditation experience. I thought I'd share it with you all, if anyone is still reading this.

meditative discourses


i took the liberty of jumping a foot further into this great unknown region we have come to know as 'the world.' all of these phenomena are coming at me in such delightful fashions, appearing and convulsing like waves of a tireless sea, no longer seen in such a firm 'concreteness' as we so often know them. more like images, small illusions, just like those great zen masters of the age informed us. i stare at this wooden beam before me and the designs upon it become passageways to a more 'ethereal' form. the earth grants visions of the universe and i see that we are here together floating in a cosmic unity with no real conclusions about the true nature of all that is. we are a speck in  space, a small point on the great radar screen, and we are always floating, always moving, always flying. why can we no longer see this? what are we missing? the pain in my legs becomes the external reality as a thin beam of light casts itself out expanding to the right and to the left out of sight and pulsating in perfect rhythmic harmony with the sudden jolting pains coursing through my numb legs bent up and tangled in the old lotus position. shadows on the wall become the spokesmen of the other side and move with each breath until they too begin to float with the rhythm. and all the while i felt like i was on the brink of something great, the gleaming truth beyond all the illusions, waiting to present itself to me, the pertinent road warrior of the modern age, running down the road ahead with the gusto of the angels-- excitement fuels my body and excites my spirit in momentary bursts until the illusions overcome once more and send me back down to my relative and insignificant space in the universe. but wait! a vibrating light! coming from the objects in motion right before my eyes! is it speaking to me? how do i follow it? and at last i come to the edge of where the known meets the unknown, the great meeting place of the simple and mundane with the vast beyond, and the hand of the other side stretches forth and reaches its fingers within my skin and grabs tightly upon my soul and pulls with might until it expands into the world beyond and my vision becomes greater as i look over a tireless and vast sea right before my eyes. the material becomes immaterial and i feel my mind twirling and swirling and dancing in union with these o so strange changes before my eyes. i follow this kind invitation until i am transported out of myself and feel for a moment what life is like without a body, yet all the while my body pulsates with enlivening excitement. and just as i feel most alive and most blissful i am thrust back within my body to see the concrete world of experience all around me, the 'normal' way of perceiving the world under the terrible and sad veil of ideas and convictions, closing me off from what i just witnessed.


So that's that. See ya!

Fishing in New Territory

Yesterday my roommate Erik and I went fishing. We had the day off school and decided we best make something of it. We came to Hillsdale Lake in Mid-afternoon on a rainy and overcast day and I all of a sudden realized I forgot about cross country practice... I had no choice but to let it go and leave it behind. After leaving my fellow coaches very confused and ridiculous messages on the phones we came to a dam that crossed over the lake and looked out into its endless beauty as it cascaded into the distant horizon. Rocks formed the surface of the bay as gentle ripples came tumbling in from unknown origins. We drove around a bit and circled and ended up parking on a dirt road about a quarter mile East of the Lake's Eastern edge. I was skeptical because of the conditioning past parking tickets has led me to but Erik reassured me that we were fine. So we trekked up a large grassy hill to the peak ahead and reflected that the hill would be beyond fantastic for sledding and that we must return when snow graces the cool ground. We came to the top of the hill and got a new view of the lake expanding out into the distance. We crossed the road and descended the hill on the other side and came to the rocky bay next to the dam. Erik wanted to post up there, but I was not satisfied with a spot so close to civilization. I looked to my right and along the edge of the lake and saw that it twisted and turned but after a series of twists and turns there seemed to be some land protruding out from the dense woods that I saw along the bay. I decided that we must penetrate into the woods and come out on the other side. Erik followed with very little skepticism or doubt.
        We walked to the edge of the woods and saw that they went up within inches of the lake, making it very clear that there was no way around them alongside the lake. We must find a passage through them. I started walking in the directions my instincts carried me and within moments I realized I was entering onto a path already tread upon by human feet leading straight into these woods. An eerie silence filled the air. I continued following the path and it took us into the woods in a nice direction with the water visibly in sight the whole way. We walked along merrily until suddenly I took a sharp step and recoiled seeing there was not only a massive and intricate spider web in front of me but a huge bright yellow and black spider sitting upon its center. I felt the familiar fear of spiders rush through my nerves and I soon found out Erik's fear for the little insects outweighs even my own. He began to be skeptical about the path we had chosen but I assured him we must continue along for the benefits and rewards would greatly outweigh the great danger we were putting ourselves in by treading down an unknown path to nowhere and everywhere. We sat and studied the spider for moments, amazed and terrified at its colors, and I looked down at my hand to see the identical spider crawling on the knuckle below my middle finger. I screamed in terror and shook my hand on an instinct as the horrifying spider went flying off and I felt fear numb me from my head to my toes. Erik screamed in his confusion and thought I had been attacked or shot at and my terror became his own until I finally informed him of what had happened. I have no idea how this spider ended up on my hand but it was horrifying. We reassured ourselves, ducked under the web, and continued on. Many more webs blocked the path, most of them with the same species of spider upon it, so I began to use my fishing pole to wipe away the obstacles in front of me like a light saber securing the path ahead. We walked on and soon we lost the path. I told Erik our only option is to tread the unknown woods where no man has walked before. "This is terrifying" he responded, but as a loyal companion and good friend, he carried on in faith. We navigated through this jungle for many timeless moments until finally we saw the pale yellow bay on the other side of the grove of trees ahead. We proceeded forward and came out into the great open, the lake directly to our left, inviting us to bask in its glory.
          We walked along the shore for a few more minutes and came through the various obstacles that presented themsevles to us such as fallen trees and strange objects littering the ground that looked like neon yellow brains of orangutans and finally came to the nice spot I had spotted from the dam and decided to settle there. I put down my chair and we got out our fishing gear and got our poles assembled and put the worms we had bought from Wal-mart on the hooks and we casted away. The plop of the bobber hitting the surface of the water invaded the silence momentarily but served to acknowledge how truly still and calm Lake Hillsdale is. We sat and talked in intoxicated sobriety as we watched our bobbers sitting in the water motionless waiting for them to take a small dip and inform us of a pull from deep in the water. Nothing came. But I didnt care. Because we were in the grand stillness of the eternity nature brings to us free of all the cares and concerns and worries and fears and just out there with the way God meant it to be acknowledging all the freedom and love of the world that was all around. We talked about great things and passed other moments in silence as they came, yet all was great. I walked down the shore a bit after an hour or so of nonactivity and tried casting in random areas to see if my luck would change. At that moment I took out my A-key Hohner Harmonica and began to play the songs that I informed Erik were passed down from generations and generations of fishermen and were known to summon fish from the depths of the waters to find the fresh and tasty treat waiting for them at the top. I played my song, let the last note ring out, looked to my left where Erik stood 100 yards away, and saw that at the moment the song ended his pole began to curve and he began to frantically reel and soon he had a nice blue gill on the end of his line. The song worked magically. He held it up with a big smile on his face and I flashed him a thumbs up. I soon came back to rejoin him and cast out alongside him. Within moments, I felt a tug I had not felt in so long and I felt an excitement rush over my limbs and consume my body as I lost control and began to reel in the bad boy on the other side. I pulled him in and found it to be a blue gill a bit smaller than Eriks. It was hooked perfectly right through the would-be-cheek and so I grabbed the fish with my hands pulled it out and set him back in the water and watched him swim away back to new beginnings. I caught another within 2 minutes and after I set him free I saw Erik pulling something heavy in. His pole was really bending. 20 feet from the shore a fish jumped attached to the end of his line and came down with a big splash, showing us that it is far larger than the ones we had just hooked. He pulled it in and let out a huge Whooopeeee as he realized that he had just brought in his first catfish of his young and prosperous fishing career. I grabbed the net and put it under and got the catfish in it and after our excitement toned down we stopped in silence and realized the fish was making a strange burping like noise. We both laughed and I took a picture of his great capture. Then he unhooked it and we saw it swim back into the lake. Just moments later, I felt a big tug on my line. I yanked up and realized I had something. I reeled in and it was barely moving and I figured I had caught the bottom of the lake like I had already done multiple times. But something was different- there was a pull. I began to pull in and turn the reel with my right arm and began to feel like I was a grand fisherman from the past days looking for nothing but the freshest catch and letting an excitement roll over me like a cool wind stream as I pull in the unknown wanderer on the other side of the line I hold in my hands. I reeled and reeled and reeled and soon saw the new visitor to my life and realized it was a catfish even bigger than Erik's. I got him in and Erik took my picture with it and I had him instruct me on a good way to unhook it and I did and let him free.
        I fished some more and caught a few more blue gills and Erik got a few more catfish and a lone Walleye which was a strange sight for the eyes but quite a unique treat and I finally decided that I need to take a break and just relax and take it all in cause the fish are biting like crazy and there is no stopping and I began to feel a little guilty about the poor little blue gills who have ended up with my hook in their stomachs because of their propensity to swallow it to a depth that I cannot get the hook out of. So I walked over to the spot I had gone to before and found a rock that was waiting perfectly for me, about 6 inches off the ground, inviting me to meditate upon it. It was a fantastic day with cool winds and nice clouds and I realized that my clothes were a great barrier to feeling the entirety of the great moment around me. So I shedded everything I was wearing except my old Family Guy boxers and felt the wind upon my bare skin and felt free. I sat on the rock and looked out for quite some time, breathing in my surroundings and gaining a new and much needed perspective of God's grand presence in the world around and the fantastic declarations of nature's grandeur that I had not seen nor acknowledged to their fullness in far too long. Focused and centered on my breath I took out my journal and began to write. And now I will leave you with the journal entry I wrote in that spot.

"10/don't know
Fishing with Erik. Caught at least 7, including
a big catfish. Threw all back. Some had
hooks stuck in deep. Feel a little guilty,
harming God's creatures.

I feel offly free. I have taken a slight break from fishing and walked over 100 yards from Erik down the rocky bay with only my journal my pen and the clothes on my back. That all seemed like too much so I took off all my clothes except for my boxers and I now sit on a perfect rock in the quarter lotus posture with my back straight and feeling deeply comfortable and deeply present. The cool wind is upon me and my bare skin informs me it is not to be blocked away but rather embraced. Slight waves in the murky lake water come into the shore inches in front of my position and contact the rocks with a gentle sound of rolling water coming in at short but distant intervals. A boat just passed so the waves come in larger each second caused by the motor powering through it. It is a cloudy day, we have had only brief moments of sunlight as the great star's rays have punctured through the grey veil between it and the earth and bathed God's creatures in their warmth. A boat is about to pass and I care not that I am mostly naked. It could be a good tip for them to show that our convictions about clothes and their necessity are only blockades from the purest flowing core of our being we can come in contact with. The horizon line to the East is a road over a great dam and every so often a car rolls by with occupants ready to undergo the next adventure life brings them; to the west is the rocky shore bending around the odd and sharp turns of the lake edge complete with dense trees showing off their beauty brought on by the early stages of fall. Green is the dominant color when the gaze is cast upon the trees but it is accentuated and revealed more deeply by the fantastically random arrays of dark yellow and rich auburn and bright orange. The trees are at peace, they speak to those lucky enough to come into contact with them. The moment becomes entirely still and the only sounds are the magnificent interplay of distant birds calling, cicadas buzzing, fish jumping and woodpeckers rapidly pecking into the thick bark of nature's most spectacular trees. And I sit on the rock of eternity in the midst of it all, fusing myself with its lavishness and feeling the wind upon my skin. A tree limb falls and reminds me of the impermanence of life which instructs me to take a deep and focused breath to acknowledge the great place I have come to and the amazingly fortunate circumstances that have brought me to this space. God is in the air around; his power and magnitude is to be acknowledged, soaked in, embraced, and appreciated. All is one; all is love.


(and the poem that soon followed)

Come to the senses!

for Revelation

new communication

with the void,

see yourself

floating

swimming

rising

new lands

approaching

inviting

calling.

The fawn

flies with the nightingale

Earth's surface

crusted

penetrable

sink.

shine

                  with wisdom

                            feel the land

                                            hear the sounds

                                              call out.

Words of Free Mind

I went to the library with my roommate Erik and I read some Kerouac. Found a book called The Portable Jack Kerouac and found some essays he had on writing. Pretty remarkable stuff. He had great tips and pointers, and he emphasized the great difference between the talented writers and the genius writers. The talented writers mimic what has been done, albeit very well, while the genius writers are innovative and original. They bring something entirely new to the table. This is not necessarily in the story; it is in the writing. The prose. He talked about how writing must come from the “jewel” center of the mind, honed in upon an object, and progress outward. No pauses must be made. No revisions to what was typed. For those express fear and shame over what was produced in the original writing. One must enter a trance in order to mimic the stream as best as possible and allow the unconscious its wordly manifestation. He even cited Freud and Jung as influences. Grammatical rules are not to hinder—do not be tied down by them. Let come what comes. The stream of thought—construct no dams. Allow it to flow, and ride with its tides. No thinking, for thought inhibits. I really agree with all of this. I see our influences as nearly identical—Buddhism, Freud, Jung, new adventures. I am like no writer as much as I am like Kerouac. His words connect with me and show me I am not alone in my thoughts that words flow from some spiritual center we have within us. The greatest writing comes from the moments of greatest connection, for nothing in those moments stands between you and yourself.

With all this in mind, I wrote a reflection on writing in which I suspended my conscious mind and allowed an authentic flow to come forth. Here it is typed out…

             Writing from the jewel heart center. We enter into a mode of entrancing proportions as we center on the object of our discourse and project out in our various directions, for once we allow for the highest degree of worldly transcendence we have cultivated so as to circumvent the terribly repressive forces of the conscious functioning mind, we lose all that can be said in uninhibited and total honesty. Forays into these outer layers as we hone deeper into our object are wilderness safaris, spotting animals and living creatures never before see and observing their inexplicable and mysterious existence. A writer is a scuba diver like no other. For unlike the most trained and skilled of divers, his is limited by nothing, whereas the diver we speak of plunges only as deep as his suit and oxygen tank allow for in his infinitesimal and ceaseless curiosity, preventing him from real glimpses of the true depths of the ocean. The writer bypasses these, for his form of diving flows and is fulfilled independent of all technology, allowing him to navigate uncharitable territory and live to tell the tale.

 But any man or woman of intelligence knows that the words tell only a negligible part of the story, and the real meaning exists far beyond the words. Evocations, sentiments, images, ideas… these we seek, and these the writer offers us. We get glimpses into the furthest reaches of the ocean when we read Moby Dick; we see the most sincere of accounts of the stream of thought as we read Jake’s tale in The Sun Also Rises; we further our understanding of our own mind and our own capacity by reading the words of the greats, for we are all connected in this cosmic exploration of heights and depths that brings us to new lands previously unimaginable. The writer is the noble savage who tries to break free. See how many writers have turned to intoxicants as a way to free the flow of thought they feel pounding within the clutches of their minds. The time goes by and the pounding continues, worsening, until it attains a deafening degree, and Poe is able to write a stroke of genius as The Tell-Tale Heart. The savages puncture through and see the light of the other side. They know all is wrong with the human race, and they operate on the hope that they can communicate the necessary truths to salvage the losses. An unattainable goal for the individual, without a doubt, but a freeing exploration calling all to jump aboard the covered wagon, for the Frontier is so much still alive. The infinite frontier of infinit space is within the mind, and he who strives to break free will find the new ideas in new forms intelligible to new degrees as he flies onward aboard his spacecraft on faith and hope and trust and honesty. He will not be faltered by the intoxicants, he will not fall down that endless hill, he will not walk that dusty path that grows only dustier over time. For he will see that he is independent of them all, he is one, and no part of his functioning brain relies on the illusory liberation brought about by these foreign intoxicants. He needs no coffee to start his day. Only a pen, paper, breath, and the light of existence. For the music and rhythm flows beautifully in each new room he enters, and he opens his ear to hear the ceaseless and continual beauty.

            Communication from the center, from the core, from the free-flowing world of purity that comes and goes and rolls alongside the restless changes of ocean winds. The cacti grow numerously in the desert; only the fool goes to hug it. Yet equal is the fool who runs from it. The wise man embraces its existence, breathes it in, and loves it. Loving every moment of pain, doubt, humiliation, and torture. For flying above all their vast expanses is the great eagle whose sight stretches toward distant lights of further towns. The writer sees the calling of the light; he hears the sounds the energy emits, and he follows. Follow the movements of the pen, dear friend, for ageless wisdom exists within the ink, only to be shared for those nestled in their slumber and unaware of this grand journey they are asleep within.

I know this has been a bit of a strange entry, but it is where my thoughts have been upon this day. To this point is where I have been brought!

Awareness

I am practicing a new kind of awareness. Meditation is becoming part of my routine, slowly but surely. I have not adopted it into my daily routine, but it is getting to that point. I find that I become aware as I become organized. My room was a mess this afternoon. I cleaned it tonight after spending a few hours with the Kansas City Jesuits at their humble abode, and directly after I lit a stick of incense and began to sit. One of the Jesuits, Dirk Dunfree, who also gets the award for greatest name, allowed me to borrow two books on Zen as well as his sitting stool. He practices Zen meditation every morning at 4 am for at least twenty minutes and has been doing it for at least 15 years. His words have been encouragement for my seeking and searching.

When I say I am practicing a new kind of awareness, I find this to be completely parallel with the Ignatian ideal of seeing God in all things. I have such a loose conception of God right now that I could not be more distant from the ‘man on the cloud’ image. I see God as a force penetrating all things simultaneously. We meditate to become aware of this omnipresent force at a deeper level, and as we enter into this awareness, we become connected with a more profound spirituality that we realize has existed within us all along. We open ourselves beyond the distorted ideas we have of the world and enter into a more pure acceptance of what God has presented to us. I stared at my cabinets today as I meditated. Simple, mundane objects that usually are not worthy of the slightest glance. As I continued to stare and become more aware, I began to see fluctuations passing through each drawer, showing to me how unique and magnificent they truly are. I was praying, and God was answering my prayers by making himself seen. As these realities present themselves to me, I find myself at a point in which I inhibit their full realization, for my ideas of ‘how the world is’ do not allow such a strange reality to present itself in the fullest. I sit and I begin to see depth to surface objects, and immediately, I begin to think and attach ideas to my new perception. This inhibits a further realization. Yet Zen is about patience, as well as Christianity. We cannot expect enlightenment immediately. We must remain patient, we must sit, we must devote time and energy to God, and we will come to see the world as it is. We will become more acquainted with the inexplicable reality God has so graciously offered us.

I go forward attempting to carry this ever deepening awareness into all my actions and moments. I strive not to make judgments on people or situations; rather, I will to let them unfold as they do, in a pure fashion uninhibited by false ideas. This is difficult with classes full of goof-off kids, but it is the ideal I strive for. I love the kids. They fuel me with a new energy, and their interests deepens my own. I find I am connecting to them on levels I never thought possible. They are filling me with fresh ideas and new perspectives that grant me a deeper glimpse into the strange nature of the universe. Sure, their minds are quite preoccupied with useless concerns, yet I find our time together is a time of looking beyond those concerns and entering into a deeper contemplation of reality and God’s presence within it. Will they get anything from this class? I can only hope so at this point. In the meantime, I will not be blocked by empty fears and false ideas. I will be myself, I will bring to them what I have learned, and I will attempt to instill within them a newly felt sense of presence, allowing for them to be receptive to God at a level they never before knew. Even if they cannot understand what is significant about taking a ‘step back’ as I allow them to do in class, I hope that further down the road, they can look back on the class and realize that it was one of their first glimpses into the personal spirituality they find. I wish them the best, and I ask God to remain with me as I continue treading this path toward the deeper unknown, with friends, family, and loved ones at my side, humbling me and allowing me to realize I am nothing without them. I love you all who have taken time out of your all-important days to read this. Thank you for your continual support, compassion, and Love, and I only hope I can offer you to some degree what you have offered me.

*As a final note, I collected and read their journals the other day, and here are some of the best sentences that had to be recorded:

      “I believe god is in my soul at all the times like Mcdonalds he is open 24/7.

      “My uniqueness is being able to eat a sandwich in 2 bites.”

        “I try to find God in all things. Something I really find him in is food. I really want some food     

          right now.”

        “Gifts are something inside you, physically or mentally, and talents are what you choose to do 

          with your gifts.

          “Who am I? I am a conglomerate of atoms that somehow came together in just the right formation 

           to initiate life.

And finally, some quotes by the great Jesuit thinker Anthony DeMello:

“Ideas actually fragment the vision, intuition, or experience of reality as a whole. This is what the mystics are perpetually telling us. Words cannot give you reality. They only point, they only indicate.”

“To know reality you have to know beyond knowing.”

The carrying tides, riding the waves...

Ladies and Gentlemen, friends and family,

I thank you dearly from the very depths of my being for coming back after my prolonged and unexcused absence for the last bit of time. I must inform you, the time that I am informing you of has been quite fantastic. And in using such a word as fantastic, I must further inform you that this by no means all has been bliss; rather, the time I speak of has been an “up and down” ride like none before. Some high highs, and some low lows, let me tell you. I now have a clearer glimpse of the meaning behind Dickens’ fantastic opening words of A Tale of Two Cities.

Now, I could give you a narrative of every significant even that has happened in the last week or so, but let’s be honest, that’s not enough. It can become a bit boring and tedious to read chronological events, and I’m not that good of a writer by which I could enthrall you with all the funny little details that only the most observant of us notice. No, allow me to take a different approach.

I am going to write, and when things pop in my head, I will include them, even if it has nothing to do with whatever else I happen to be talking about. Let’s see… Cross Country. It has been fantastic, let me tell you. I am connecting with these kids in very unique ways, and I feel they can see that I once went through the pain and pleasure that is distance running. I have still been running with them—5 miles yesterday afternoon—, and yesterday, we began our day with Yoga at 6AM. I struck up a conversation with the instructor, told her I did a few sessions at CorePower in California, and after this and that, it turns out she went to USD. Crazy. Small world indeed… turns out CorePower is where she trained and learned to instruct. So I did Yoga with a group of 30 high school students in the wrestling room. It was a great session, full of concentration, meditation, and high school kids farting. A quick simulation:

Instructor: “Now… move deeper into the stretch… feeling your breath… feeling the pull of your right quad… feeling connected…”

Fart. Toot. Laughter. Yeah, she spoke meditatively and calmly, like all yoga instructors, and as we were to “let go” and concentrate, moving into the stretch, kids let them rip. I cracked up every time. Even the instructor couldn’t hold in her laughter. An hour of yoga, and we moved on. I ran with them that afternoon, and as I was running with a group of them early on, Jake, a junior, says, “So Coach Lawlor, what did you think of that Yoga instructor??” I kind of laugh and say she’s nice. “Yeahhh I SAW you talking to her, don’t think I wasn’t watching.” I laugh again and tell him he saw me bustin’ out the charm. “Oooh I didn’t realize I was seeing ‘the charm.’” They all busted my balls, then they ate my dust as I ran off and destroyed them.

So yes, Cross Country has been great. I’m getting to know most of the kids on the team, and most are very accepting. Took them a while to learn my name. One kid was talking to another coach and called me “The Leprechaun.” It was early on, and I was a little upset. “Oh man… they don’t know my name… I am so sad, waahhh.” Then I realized this is a goofy little high school kid with stringy long reddish hair that poofs out, so next practice, I started calling him Garfunkel. He asked if he could still call me Leprechaun, and I said, “… you can call me COACH Leprechaun.” So that’s what we got. The guys are doing great though. There are some studs on the team, some not-so-studs, and a lot of good guys. Solid coaches too, including the infamous Doc-TOR, a Cuban man who enjoys making very sexual jokes, going so far as to fake pedophilia (or so we think…). Oh well, he’s just a Commie. We have our first 5K time trial on Saturday, can’t wait. It’s a joy seeing these kids get better and push further, and it’s been beyond rewarding to run alongside them through this perilous, glorious journey.

Now, how bout class. Yes, my two sections of Freshman Theology. Last you heard from me, I was a maniacal teacher staring at them from the edges of sanity, asking for them to try and push me over the edge, letting Mr. Beethoven speak for me. I regret to inform you that I have not done this every day since. I have actually begun teaching with words. But the stares have not ceased. I still give them “the look” throughout class. So what do we do in class? We do a lot of journaling time. Here are their instructions: Put the pen to the page, and do not stop writing until I tell you the time is up. I am teaching them about themselves. How to listen to themselves. To become self-aware. And all the while, I play great music to get the thoughts flowing. I played some Arcade Fire last week (“Wake Up”), and a bunch of kids asked about it. They responded great. That phenomenal band can cross gaps of universal proportions with their mesmerizing sound. They can connect the cosmos. They can bring hope out of he who has lost it all. They can make babies jump for joy. They can cure the lame. They ROCK. Speaking of them, I had a dream last night that I was at their concert. I tried desperately to meet Win Butler, their main man, and could not quite get there. Maybe he is an Untouchable, just like Capone. But he’s greater, for sure. Anyways, we journal, and we discuss. I have two classes, and they are as different as could be. My first class loves discussions. I have had to end every class with at least 4 hands in the air. Everyone wants to throw in their opinion, and they have great opinions. I have been extremely impressed. We have had long and deep discussions over seeing God in all things, but yesterday, the talk topped them all. Yesterday, we somehow got on the topic of life after death and the ceaseless possibilities. This was perfect time for the inner philosophy nerd to come out full force in me. So naturally, I began to talk about Nietzsche’s eternal recurrence. “So guys, consider this. Let’s say you die, and when you die, you are told that you will live the exact life you have lived over and over again for all of eternity, an infinite amount of times. You can change no decisions, you simply must live it over and over.” The response was immediate. “Maaaan, that would SUCK!” “There’s no way that could happen!” But the smiles were everywhere at this new world-shaking idea. One kid, Austin, a born philosopher, raised his hand. I called on him, brought the classes attention to him, and he began to attempt to communicate his sheer confusion. “For that to happen… you would have to have… an INFINITE amount of alternate realities, all happening at the same time…” I look at him, nod my head, and say “Uh huh…” He continues “and a loop in time… and wormholes connecting them…” I continue nodding as I smile. Eventually he runs out of idea, looks at me, and I say “Yup, you’d need all that,” not faltering one bit in maintaining its possibility. The class laughs. I say “Sure, it’s UNLIKELY, but it’s logically possible isn’t it? We can conceive of it.” A kid brings up Groundhog Day, I tell him maybe we’ll watch some clips. So I continue on and inform them this is one of the fundamental ideas of the philosophy of Friedrich Nietzsche, one of the most influential philosophers of all time. “So he poses the question: ‘if this happens, will you be very happy, or will you be really pissed off?!” They laugh again. “He says that you should be HAPPY, you should be ecstatic. Because you should embrace every single moment and live it to the very fullest! You should love life and never sit there being bored.” I gave a mock “I’m bored” impression that they enjoyed. We continued contemplating the endless questions and endless possibilities of death, and we closed with A.J.’s comment, “Well… I heard one person say that… maybe we’re ALREADY dead, and we’re just waiting for what happens next. We’re in limbo.” Everyone “oooohed” and “aaaahed,” and I said, “On that uplifting note, class is dismissed! Thank you for your thoughts gentlemen, very well done!” One of the best conversations I’ve had, and it was with FRESHMEN in high school! I was more than impressed with these kids, they have fantastic ideas. And then I went to my next class…

Night and day. Girl and boy. John Stamos and Gary Busey. As far away as possible from each other, stark opposites. I cannot begin to describe the difference between these two classes. The other class is filled with smart-asses and kids with ADD off the wazoo. Some smart kids, without a doubt, but kids who are far less willing to work toward their potential. I get into class, knowing beyond the point of doubt that the conversation will not reach the incredible heights of the one before. And I realize I have no choice but to improvise, for the entire class before was nothing but improvisation… they just make it easier on me. So how can I improvise with a bunch of goons? I start the class with a video on “Finding God In All Things,” just as I did with the other class. And I ask if there are any reactions or ideas. Nothing. Naturally. So I begin to talk. I go deeply on why it is so important, why we must change our perspective. I attempt to make a connection, cause I can tell they have tuned it out, thinking “the last thing I want to hear is a talk about God. Blah blah. Man I like Xbox.” So I ask them to raise their hands if they are Catholic. Most hands go up. I ask them to raise their hands if every once in a while, they don’t look forward to going to church. The same hands go up. Then I ask if more often than not they dread Church. All the same hands. Then I ask if anyone is super excited every Sunday when they get to go. No hands go up. They laugh, and so do I. I tell them I know what they mean. Sure, it can be boring, it can be repetitive, it can be annoying. So why the hell do we do it? One kid gives a great response. “Because we are giving to God when we do it. It’s not all about us.” I completely agree. So I ask a little further. “Well do you think God wants you to be there and be bored, thinking ‘man I don’t want to be here!’? Do you think he wants us to hate the experience of going just because we have to?” They say that they do not think so. “So then what can we do? How can we give ourselves to God?” Silence, until Jack raises his hand. “Well, it takes a responsibility, we have to do something.” “Exactly!!” I scream. “We have to DO SOMETHING! We have to make something of our lives and not just sit back on our asses!” One kid alludes back to a homily given by Fr. Gibbons at their opening mass and recalls “chillaxin’ is not our natural state.” Fr. Gibbons demonstrated this with a bean bag chair, showing that “there is time for chillaxin’, but that is not Rockhurst time.” So kids start to talk about bean bag chairs. One kid says “and a bean bag chair will mess up your back.” I agree with him. “Yes, sleeping on a bean bag chair will give you a bad back.” Jonathan speaks up. “But wait, isn’t it good for you back? Cause it, like, forms to your back and stuff?” I begin to attempt to explain why it is bad for your back, find myself at a loss of words, and say “Look, the point is NOT whether or not it is good for your back to sleep on a bean bag chair. The point is NOT TO BE LAZY!!” They all laugh. A bunch of hands go up. I call on a group. “But can’t a bean bag chair be good for you?” “Bean bag chairs are just so comfortable.” “They are better than stools cause they take less energy,” Chris says. I respond immediately. “See, this is EXACTLY WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT! You’re talking about the difference of energy between getting up from a STOOL or BEAN BAG CHAIR! That is like NOTHING! I mean, think, how much energy is that really?” Christ responds. “It’s like… an hour…” I throw my hands into the air. “AN HOUR?! AN HOUR IS NOT A PROPER MEANS TO MEASURE ENERGY!!!” They laugh once more. “Look, DROP THE BEAN BAG CHAIR! You guys are trying to JUSTIFY laziness, and it is not something that should be justified. It should be done away with!” So I move on, a few kids make comments, and I see Chris has his hand up again. I know it’s gonna be something ridiculous. But I call on him. “Well, a bean bag chair can be good—“ I cut him off. “Listen, no more on the bean bag chair, ok?” “No, it’s something good. A bean bag chair can help us feel better.” So I say, “Ok, your point brings up 2 things. Number one—you’re being a smartass. I see right through you. Number 2—you’re trying to justify laziness. Now isn’t there a problem with this??!!” So I go on a 10 minute rant about laziness. “We cannot be faithful to God if we are lazy, because if we are, we aren’t doing Sh** with our lives! We have to get off our asses and do something! Just like Jack said! We have to become something and use our potential! Otherwise, we are saying ‘screw you God, I don’t want what you gave me.’” I rant and rant, and I see some nodding their heads. Others have their heads down. I tell them I am lazy at times too. It can be very tempting. But it is about going past that temptation and really doing something, becoming who you are with vigor in your heart. I finish, drop my hands, and calmly say, “Now, does anyone have any questions or comments on that impassioned lecture?” Blank stares. Until a kid raises his hand. “Umm… well, let’s say after football practice, when I come home and I’m really tired. Am I allowed to like sit on the couch and relax a bit?” I can’t help but laugh. This kid actually takes every word in my ridiculous rant on laziness as absolute truth. He thinks I have every answer and I am actually giving universal rules of the Catholic faith. I explain to him that what I said is simply my perspective, my opinion on the matter. Of course you can go home and relax. I know that you get tired. I can’t make you do something. But it is important to realize that you have potential, and it is important to find that right medium. That line where you are not too lazy to the point where you do nothing, and you are not doing too much to the point where you are overstraining yourself. He nods and takes in what I say. Then Andre, the hilarious little black kid who was the victim on the first day (the kid who couldn’t stop laughing), raises his hand. “Um, Mr. Lawlor? I heard that the Catholic Church says that if you are gay you’re going to hell. Is that true?” I almost bust up laughing. Where the hell did that question come to this kid’s head? Literally nothing to do with anything we have just talked about. But as it is an important question, and as I didn’t care at this point, I gave an answer. I told him that it is an extremely tricky issue in the Catholic church and divides a lot of people, but I went on to tell him that many people do believe that. On such an issue, I had to put in my two cents, so I told him I personally think it is a ridiculous belief that cannot accept reality, but that doesn’t make that necessarily true. Hands go up. “Well, I think that God made us all unique, so we should accept them for that.” A great idea! Kids begin to offer great ideas on the topic, sharing a lot of their beliefs, and I am extremely impressed with their open-mindedness. I take it a few places but end it before getting in too far, explaining to them that we will talk about it later in the semester. 15 minutes left in class. I have them journal. And I put on Cat Stevens to chill out. These kids are nuts. They are a challenge, but I gotta admit a fun one. Announcements come on at the end of the day, and I notice halfway through, kids start giving “ooohs” and “aaaahss” at random times, as if what is being said matters to them. This is strange, I think. So I look around. They are all looking at the projection on the wall. The projection of the screen saver. And what is on it? Two Rockhurst emblems, bouncing around. They “ooohed” every time the two came close to hitting each other. At this point, I can’t help it. I smile, and I watch with them. Who cares about these announcements. They see that I’m smiling, so their sighs begin to get greater. They are getting more excited by the second. Some close calls, they are on the edge of their seats. And finally, the two connect. The room erupts. Everyone throws his hand into the air and screams “Yaaaaa!!!!” like something just happened with immense significance. And I laugh. I can’t help it, their energy is contagious. They never got out of control… just a fun time. I let them go, and they left, off into a new afternoon of adventure and fun. I have them in 5 minutes, so I’m gonna finish this post. Wish me luck.

What can I say, it’s been a ride. You just read about one of my classes from each section. I have one of each every day. Today in my first one we talked about the endless intricacies and complexities of the universe and how uniqueness can be traced down to the smallest cells, the smallest atoms. God in all things. See it.