Of Arcs and Trajectories: Portrait of an Expatriate - Part One
tra·jec·to·ry
/trəˈjekt(ə)rē/
noun
plural noun: trajectories
Right here, early on, let me say that this blog is to be no manifesto, no screed or declaration of independence. I'll also say too that I have not left the church. I've not been exiled by any exterior authority nor driven away by any interior conviction. The best term I could find for my sitz im leben is the term expatriate which refers to someone living outside their native country. At the moment of my departure, it felt so sudden and dramatic and yet, the more I reflected upon my life through prayer, conversations with my spiritual directors and through intensive journaling, the more I began to trace my way backwards to see a host of touchstone moments that began to reveal the origins of my path. What at first seemed like a 180 degree turn was in fact a long arc with a potent series of threshold moments met along that way.
To further dwell upon this process of change, I began heading to the refuge of wood and prairie this past Autumn on Sunday mornings by walking in the Lincoln Memorial Gardens and adjacent Ostermeir Prairie Center in Springfield, Illinois. Upon hearing this, some will no doubt see me as embodying the cliched non-believer who says, "Why do I need a church when I can worship God in nature?" In response, I refuse to see my relationship with God and others in such dualistic terms and so for now, I'll simply say how deeply grateful I am for being given sanctuary as an expatriate into these sacred spaces, which for me have become a catalyst during this season of exploration and testing. To play further with this scientific language, I've entered into the crucible of proving; trusting fully that God, who I prefer to call Divine Love, is burning away what is unessential and part of my false-self in order to produce a compound of Love's own choosing.
1. the
path followed by a projectile flying or an object moving under the action of
given forces.
The projectile is me and after a life time of following a
certain path, I veered...unexpectedly and yet predictably perhaps? Indeed, the
entire reason for starting this blog was to honor my heart's desire to
articulate to others why I veered... why I no longer go to mass on Sundays.
That's right dear reader, this life-long Roman Catholic, this "franchise
player" of the faith stepped away from attending regular Sunday worship
last year after the Feast of Pentecost. I understand that this will come as a
shock to some of you while to others, my story may serve to pique one's
intellectual or spiritual curiosity. No matter how it lands, I pledged I would
begin writing this blog to offer an explanation in a public fashion that allows
for accountability or "peer review" in the most earnest sense. With
that said, this blog entry most of all may require some honest feedback because
no one is an entity unto oneself. Furthermore, I'm not writing this to seek any approval or to gain adherents to my way of proceeding. Your path is your own and I respect that.
Right here, early on, let me say that this blog is to be no manifesto, no screed or declaration of independence. I'll also say too that I have not left the church. I've not been exiled by any exterior authority nor driven away by any interior conviction. The best term I could find for my sitz im leben is the term expatriate which refers to someone living outside their native country. At the moment of my departure, it felt so sudden and dramatic and yet, the more I reflected upon my life through prayer, conversations with my spiritual directors and through intensive journaling, the more I began to trace my way backwards to see a host of touchstone moments that began to reveal the origins of my path. What at first seemed like a 180 degree turn was in fact a long arc with a potent series of threshold moments met along that way.
To further dwell upon this process of change, I began heading to the refuge of wood and prairie this past Autumn on Sunday mornings by walking in the Lincoln Memorial Gardens and adjacent Ostermeir Prairie Center in Springfield, Illinois. Upon hearing this, some will no doubt see me as embodying the cliched non-believer who says, "Why do I need a church when I can worship God in nature?" In response, I refuse to see my relationship with God and others in such dualistic terms and so for now, I'll simply say how deeply grateful I am for being given sanctuary as an expatriate into these sacred spaces, which for me have become a catalyst during this season of exploration and testing. To play further with this scientific language, I've entered into the crucible of proving; trusting fully that God, who I prefer to call Divine Love, is burning away what is unessential and part of my false-self in order to produce a compound of Love's own choosing.
SO MUCH has emerged within
me during those walks! A torrent of awareness, searching, longing, wondering
and yes - peace has been produced as the first traces of what is left after the
initial flames have withdrawn for a time. What I have begun to describe
to you here is "The Res" or the most real of what I mean to begin
sharing in the days, weeks and months to come. I pledge to be honest and
honoring in the parsing out of detail and broad brush stroke alike. Heavens,
there is so much to say but for now I'll honor the scripture found in John
16:14 and save it for the next entry. (Go ahead....look it up!)
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