A portrait of contemplation
593958
This brief, evocative novella takes place during a late afternoon stroll in 1943. A very young, pregnant German woman is separated from her husband, who is stationed in North Africa during World War II. She is staying in Rome, in a guest room in a hospital for the elderly, run by German nuns in what seems to be the Prati neighborhood, between Vatican City and the historic center. Her obstetrician instructs her to "walk, young lady, walk" for the health of the child, soon to be born.

Margaret looks forward to these daily constitutions to the Lutheran Gospel on Via Sicilia, and today she is on her way to hear a Bach concert. She considers her beginning and end points as two German islands "in a sea of Rome," a bewildering city, for the most part, to an innocent, devout Protestant. Margaret is terrified to admit thoughts of her own that are not consecrated by the Bible and the Reich.

Does Margaret's naivet shield her from the uncertainty of war? Or does she wrap herself in the flag and confine her catechism to the Bible as a camouflage from doubt? As she walks through the ancient streets of Rome, memories of her past and questions about her future surface and trouble her. There are also divides between what she learned about Brotherly Love from her preacher father, and the message from Hitler's Germany.

New ideas threaten to shift her current perspective--or at least question it, such as the German position on war, the attitude toward Jews and Italians, and whether her station and circumstances are propitious or unfortunate. Moreover, she worries whether she should explore other views or scrutinize the authority of the principles/morals/values she's been taught. Some ideas circle around, generating more powerful internal conflicts as they materialize, and threaten to shake her resolve. And throughout is her concern about her husband, Gert, whose letters she holds sacred.

And Margaret walks, and crosses the Tiber via the Ponte Margherita, smiling at the name of the bridge. The obelisks on Piazza del Popolo and the sculptures with the lion fountains provoke more memories, as well as thoughts about the strength of the city--the Eternal City that has survived many wars--and is older than Christ himself. The Christian cross at the tip of the obelisks comforts her, in that "the Christian symbol triumphed over the heathen one." The circumlocution of her thoughts has its own logic, which includes her benevolence toward the church of Santa Maria del Popolo, because Martin Luther, the great Protestant, had once stayed there. And why were there so many eagles in Rome? They looked softer here, less stern than the German eagles.

This is a story of contemplation, all told in one sentence. However, despite the Joycean title, this is written in a gentle, poetic, accessible style. The frequent paragraphs prevent weariness and provide white space, and the natural pauses are inherent and organic. Jamie Bulloch's translation from the German is superb. (I don't speak German, but can sense a clunky or awkward translation.) This is a seamless stroll through the streets of Rome, as well as a sensitive, soulful sojourn of a mother as a young woman.
2363139
In the quiet, contemplative moments of life, a time when take pause to reflect on our lives, Id say most of us sense there is something more.  This book explains how to get to that something more, and it is heartwarming to discover that its not all that difficult to obtain.
2804325
This introspective film acutely addresses the tension between faith and reason. The very first scene suggests an equivalence between a person's faith and his or her involvement in ritual: pastor Tomas, in the middle of a spiritual crisis, conducts a service without much conviction. Later, Bergman will show us that only a man who has faith (the disabled church employee) can give liturgy all of its meaning. This parallel can also be extended to the main cause of Tomas' crisis: God's silence. It is this same silence that feeds the faith of that other man. While the film initially appears to emphasize the futility of faith (especially during the first church service and Tomas' ensuing conversations with his mistress and the fisherman), careful viewing points to the contrary: it is when Tomas abjures his faith that his already unstable situation deteriorates - his understated reaction to the fisherman's suicide is all the more startling since this event's consequences will prove to be crucial. And it is when Tomas listens to the employee late in the film that he finds the force to conduct a service even though no one attends it; he is conducting it for himself as a further step in his ongoing spiritual quest.
4203069
This book is unexpected and unlike other Thomas Merton writings I'm familiar with. He wrote this collection of reflections on modernity late in his career, when, as he tells us, he had become a different man -

"[People] demand that I remain forever the superficially pious, rather rigid and somewhat narrow-minded young monk I was twenty years ago, and at the same time they continually circulate the rumor that I have left my monastery. What has actually happened is that I have been simply living where I am and developing in my own way ..." (p 172)

"Raids" is hard to classify. It is a collection of essays, poems, parables, and other forms. It is at turns blunt, scathing, poetic, mystical, obscure, inscrutable, and nearly incomprehensible. But always, as with all Merton writings, it is nakedly honest, penetrating, and challenging.

The book contains 13 brief reflections -
1. Asks the question, what do we need?
2. Explores mercy versus determinism.
3. Interpretation of Flannery O'Conner's work, focusing on the idea of "respect".
4. Asks, upon reviewing the career of Adolf Eichmann, what is sanity?
5. Challenges us on the hazards of moral neutrality.
6. On the emptiness of modern society.
7. On Prometheus as hero and villain.
8. On the tension between myth and modern reality (I think).
9. Similar to #8.
10. "Notes for a cosmic meditation."
11. Exploration of the thought of a Sufi contemplative.
12. The modern poet's response to modern absurdity.
13. On what artistic freedom really means.

Each of these, one way or another, forces us out of our comfort zone, to grapple with issues we'd prefer to ignore. Here, Merton seems far more concerned with what we are doing than what we are thinking or feeling. The spirit of the book is summed up well in this passage -

"The true solutions are not those which we force upon life in accordance with our theories, but those which life itself provides for those who dispose themselves to receive the truth ... For since man has decided to occupy the place of God he has shown himself to be by far the blindest, and cruelest, and pettiest and most ridiculous of all the false gods. We can call ourselves innocent only if we refuse to forget this, and if we also do everything we can to make others realize it." (p 61)

The modern world is what it is ... unless we rebel. "Raids" is calling on us to do just that, in just about every way possible. Uncomfortable, but hard to ignore.
3660155
The title "Still" can be taken two ways. Just like physical life, spiritual life contains not only high places and low places, but flat expanses where we seem to be standing still. At times like this, one response is to listen for our own inner wisdom, to be deliberately quiet and still.

The book is a collection of personal reflections on the author's journey across her own spiritual plateau. The individual meditations make no attempt at consistency. Each reader will undoubtedly respond to different insights in different ways. For example, I was irritated and alienated by a chapter using second person address, "You think" and "You feel," because the author's experiences are not my experiences and I have never thought what she was thinking. On the other hand, her account of serving communion to a fragile, elderly couple brought tears to my eyes and joy to my heart. I particularly appreciated the quotes of poems and passages from other sources and the author's meditations on them. Other readers may prefer her revelations of and reflections on events in her own life.

This is a book by and for someone who, feeling lost, seeks to find God and to be found by God.
3685364
Thoreau paints a portrait of walking in such grandiose terms that one will cease to think of putting one foot in front of the other as one of life's mundane tasks. Hes not talking about just any walking, however. Hes not talking about the mall walkers who briskly exercise in temples of consumerism. Hes not talking about those who walk through the park with top 40 hits blaring from their iPod ear buds.

Thoreau is talking about those individuals he calls saunterers. To saunter, as to stroll, is to walk in a leisurely and aimless fashion. Thoreaus walking is that which:
 -takes place in nature.
 -leaves worldly worries behind.
 -is not a trivial time commitment.
 -is more an exercise of the mind and spirit than of the body.

To the mall walker, Thoreau would point out the error of a missed opportunity to get away from mankinds chaos and enjoy nature. As he puts it, The most alive is the wildest. and all good things are wild and free. Hes also clear in that walking for exercise misses the point by injecting hurriedness into a time that should be about slowing down.

On those with iPods, cellphones, or other contrivances that distract one from the environs, Thoreau is equally clear, What business have I in the woods if I am thinking of something outside the woods?

Thoreaus essay broadens as it progresses. From a commentary on the virtues of sauntering, the essay turns to the glories of nature, the character of America, and the state of thought in his contemporary society. These may seem like unrelated concepts, but there is a string of logic that connects them.

The connection to nature and the virtue of wildness should be clear. Its nature that is the optimal backdrop of sauntering. Its in nature that one can be set free from the troubles of the world of man and obtain a glimpse of god. Its in nature where creativity breeds with chaos turned down and native brilliance turned up.

Thoreaus discussion of America is tied to the theme of walking in a couple of ways. The first is as a land made for walkers. For example, he points out that a man could pitch a tent almost anywhere in North America without great risk of becoming a meal. The same couldn't be said of India or Africa or Siberia, where man isn't the sole predatory creature. The second is America as a place with room to venture out into uncharted territory. Thoreau points out that we may look to the East for the lessons of our predecessors, but a person should look West for opportunities to grow in ones own right. Of course, Thoreaus America was different from todays America.

The end of the essay broadens out even further. Thoreau comments upon mankind and the state of ideas and thought. He echoes Socrates when he talks about that age-old question of whether its better to be ignorant (to know one knows little) or deluded (to think one knows a lot, but be drowning in false knowledge.) A reader may suggest that this is a false dichotomy. Why cant one know most everything and not have a ones body of knowledge rife with false knowledge? I cant say, but all of the evidence suggests that if such a state exists, its the domain of God or gods (if such entities exist.)

Thoreau also bemoans what he sees as the decline of thinking man. What does this have to do with walking? I think Thoreau answers in the following quote:
So it would seem few and fewer thoughts visit each growing man from year to year, for the grove in our minds is laid wastesold to feed unnecessary fires of ambition, or sent to milland there is scarcely a twig left for them to perch on.

I think that everyone should read this thin book--really an essay and not a full-scale book. The problems Thoreau notes have only gotten worse in our modern age. Far too few take the time to walk, and to acquire the benefits of sauntering.
3989222
Jody Talbot, British pop and soundtrack composer, has produced a series of intimate pieces that are quietly and profoundly emotional. I have found listening to these to be one of the most contemplatively inspiring sets of music I have ever heard. There is much to consider here. The influences from the minimalist and post-modern schools are clear, yet Talbot brings in a painful subcontext that leads one to reflection. It's a bit like looking at a zen garden and then realizing that there is an orange blossom opening up. At times there is that John Barry like feel of cinemascope that is broad, yet somehow reigned in to focus on a particular mode or scale, perhaps in the order of Gavin Bryars. When the music does this it is at its most compelling. This is the work that an ensemble like Orchestra 2001 might take up: at once modern and ageless, intelligent and spiritual, passionate and sublime. This is absolutely worth investigating.
531060
As this novel skips through time, from 1945 to 1984, we see glimpses of a life. The tone is certainly one of stillness, in a sense, in that examination becomes forefront, and a life itself gets revealed as if through a magnifying glass, but only in brief and intense bursts. Just as science categorizes insects through taxonomy, Kiteley arranges life's journey through a series of field notes. The effect layers and accumulates, and by the end of the book, brush strokes of authentic sentimentality seep through. That is to say, this book resonates and floats, entering meaning through a new door, never absconding from the moment in order to create its sublime commentary on the notions what is humanity.
789322
The title makes it sound like a dull book on aesthetics. It is not.

The heart of the book is a critique of how we came to separate art from technology in Western culture - a separation which is not there in other cultures and which was not present in European culture until the 18th Century.

The consequences of this separation are that art gets removed from everyday life into the museums, art galleries and concert halls while technology becomes just "a means to an end". This goes hand in hand with the separation of mind, body and spirit that occurred at just about the same time in Western thought along with the rise of modern capitalism with its factories and machines.

The separation of means from ends goes to the heart of the issues at stake. In a technological age, everything becomes seen through the lens of technology - as a means to an end. This includes organisational and political structures, the economy and finance, and even the biggest part of our lives - the time we spend at work. In a beautiful chapter on the Japanese Tea Ceremony, which illustrates how an ordinary and mundane activity (making and drinking tea) can be spiritually transformative, he quotes the Zen master Thich Nhat Han:

"While washing the dishes one should only be washing the dishes, which means that while washing the dishes one should be completely aware of the fact that one is washing the dishes. At first glance, that might seem a little silly: why put so much stress on a simple thing? But that's precisely the point. The fact that I am standing there and washing these bowls is a wondrous reality. I'm being completely myself, following my breath, conscious of my presence, and conscious of my thoughts and actions... If while washing the dishes, we think only of the cup of tea that awaits us, thus hurrying to get the dishes out of the way as if they were a nuisance ... we are not alive during the time we are washing the dishes.... If we can't wash the dishes, the chances are we won't be able to drink our tea either. While drinking the cup of tea, we will only be thinking of other things, barely aware of the cup in our hands. Thus we are sucked away into the future - and we are incapable of actually living one minute of life."

Bringing art back into technology is not a matter of hanging some Hockney prints in the boardroom or having a Roger Dean designed logo printed on your products. It is, rather, a way of living  and working in which the "how" we do things (means) is important and satisfying in its own right. The reward is not (just) the paycheck at the end but is to be found in the work itself.  Think "artisan" or "craftsman" rather than the caricature of the artist as misunderstood genius.

Interestingly, there is much in common between the author's descrption of the mindset of the artist and what psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi calls "flow"&nbsp;<a data-hook="product-link-linked" class="a-link-normal" href="/Flow-The-Psychology-of-Optimal-Experience/dp/0061339202/ref=cm_cr_arp_d_rvw_txt?ie=UTF8">Flow: The Psychology of Optimal Experience</a>- being totally present and immersed in the task to the point where time seems to stop; the sense of wrestling with a challenging problem; and the deep satisfaction that comes from engaging in this way. Sadly few people get to experience this in their working lives.

This would be a good read for some of the management thinkers interested in Csikszentmihalyi's work.
3682033
Philip DeLoach came of age in the 1960s. His is the Age of Aquarius, a life shaped by social revolution; a mind and heart formed by idealism. Governments and institutions are the bane of his existence; peace and love, his ideal. Now, as he faces age and loss and death, he watches and grieves as Utopia slips away. He wonders where all the hippies went. He wonders if he is alone in the world. In his existential search for truth and meaning are autobiographical hints of a hard-scrabble life in the South. Poverty seeps into the conversation ~ but so, too, does humor. The book consists of about eighty long, free-verse poems, reminiscent of Walt Whitman and Langston Hughes ~ though definitely a unique outpouring of Philip's own psyche. It is illustrated by DeLoach's own mystical drawings, which show clear influences of William Blake and Gustave Dore'. Artist, philosopher, poet, prophet, dreamer ~ these describe Philip DeLoach. This is his song of life, and I am proud to call him friend.
131179
One of the great philosophical questions through the ages has been the nature and substance of time. In the very first chapter, About Time, Banville poses the question, When does the past become the past? It provides, in many ways, the rhetorical theme that unifies what is otherwise part memoir, part guidebook, part picture book, and part social and geo-political commentary.

As a result, there is a lot of timely reflection: The process of growing up is, sadly, a process of turning the mysterious into the mundane. It even infiltrates the description, as in, cups of tea the colour of tree trunks sunk for centuries in swamp-water.

Banville takes us on a magical journey through his life and Dublin both, providing just enough detail to make it informative, but not so much that it ever bogs down. Throughout the journey, moreover, you are sure to have a smile on your face. At one point, he asks, Do I imagine it, or am I right in thinking that the English can never quite take the Irish seriously? When I am over there I have the impression that everyone I speak to is just about managing to keep a straight face. I am not English, but I know I read the whole book on the brink of a good chuckle.

The writing itself is very witty and very accessible. When comparing the statues of Paris and Ireland, for example, he notes, In Ireland we tend to erect tremendous plinths and set upon them tiny figurines, our aspirations to gloire seeming to falter at an ascending rate. In Paris, however, those vast stone figures confront us imperiously, overwhelming in their scale, their grandeur, their vividness.

There are plenty of colorful references to other Irish writers and poets. He refers, for example, to Irish poet, Patrick Kavanagh, as a crusty old codger, but without a trace of disrespect. And he notes about Joyce: For me, as a writer in the making, the fact was that Joyce had seized upon the city [Dublin] for his own literary purposes and in doing so had used it up, as surely as Kafka did with the letter K, and consequently the place was of no use to me as a backdrop for my fiction.

And while theres a whiff of adolescent naughty here and there, although it hardly qualifies as even that by todays standards, theres not a single expletive in the whole book. The prose is crisp and sharp but never in your face.

All told, its a delightful stroll through both time and Dublin, although I suspect the author would dislike the delightful part. His prose is more creative but straight on. Not quite bare knuckle, if you will, but definitely written with a mischievous twinkle in the eye that i can't hope to match.

Its a quick read and you won't find a better way to spend an afternoon. So while its not transformative in the way we normally use that word, it will transform your day and that deserves a 5 in my book.
2070587
A peaceful, nuanced and reflective book on a retired Japanese artist who ponders his pre-WWII attitudes and actions, in the context of his family and some of his former colleagues, as well as of Japan's post WWII evolution.
589366
This 80-minute long album is a Morton Feldman-like exploration of time, where quietly over the stretch of time five musicians improvise, adding notes and phrases in harmony or in contrast or in commentary. The instrument that commences the enterprise after 3-minute piano percussive introduction is a Korean haegum, a cousin of the Chinese erhu fiddle, which is played by Soo-Yeon Lyuh. The deeper string sound is from the cello of Danielle DeGruttola. Discordant piano chords arise soon; and they come from Tania Chen. Further percussion is the art of William Winant. Finally, Henry Kaiser plays his various guitars, from 13-string acoustic harp guitar, to several electric guitars, to 6-string acoustic bass, and a 7-string electric. Not much happens that the listener can chew on, which is the point: as the "Chapel" in the album title suggests, this music is the background or focus of a meditation. In Zen meditation, the teacher will tell the student that if she becomes bored, she should continue for another 30 minutes, and if boredom persists, then maintain the practice for another 30 minutes; eventually boredom will depart and everything will become first interesting than finally perceived just as it is. This album may drive the impatient up the wall, but without thinking about it and just letting the sounds flow, the music may become witty and then, about after 1/3 into the single track, somewhat noisy and energetic. Toward the end, with Winant's bells and the guitar's metallic glissando, and the haegum's sirened string slides, the piece becomes wildly interesting and encompassing. There is no plan to this album; it is stream of consciousness and gestaltic interplay. Continuous but numbered sections would have been useful. The cover photos are of a typical Korean temple and the bold psychedelic designs continues within, in coffered ceilings. The wood art on the wall of the recording studio is similar to the works of Joo Carlos Galvo (though not by him). The album title, Megasonic Chapel, is based on the recording studio, Megasonic Sound, Oakland, CA. Musically, the album is a mess of self-indulgence, but in context of a spiritual listener, then function becomes key and reason emerges from madness.
2346125
There is a good range of poetry in this special little book, a book that would serve well on a retreat or wilderness journey.

Scripture, or Holy Writs, are texts which various traditions consider sacred or of central importance. "Scripture of Leaves"
is a gentle and harmonious expression of the author's interior life which is rich.

The poems in this book create an attentive listening within the reader. Mr. Stafford was correct in stating within the introduction that "he intends to reach out for you and to gain your allegiance, if you give it a chance." Not 'attention' mind you, but "allegiance".

Some poetic reflections awaken that which is in one's deepest self, a place that is often blurred by inattention and divisiveness of our lives. The poetry has a nice mixture of memory and contemplative elements born from the authors keen spirit of obsevation. In this connection I like the poems "Bowing" and one of my favorites, "Lessons at Grandpa's Knee". The latter shows quite nicely how the delicate balance of life has been affected by our disregard of the cause and effect of the things we do in the name of so many things. Mr. Stafford is an eco-naturalist at heart.

Reading this book allows a snapshot into the interior life of Mr. Stafford. It is a good book to refer to time and time again, but in your quiet moments. You will put it down but somehow want more of the book's soul.

Donald J. Da Ros
2516762
"Out Walking" is a quiet book, a book to be savored, a book that offers, if the reader is amenable to entering into the spirit of it, a renewing solitude that makes us more fit for entering grace-fully into  community. It is a book about seeing, attending, thanking.
I read this  book on a spectacular late-spring day in a clearing on my own five-acre  woodlot in Western New York, not far from where John Leax lives and writes  about his five-acre parcel of paradise.  I had meant only to read for a few  minutes before allowing myself to drift into much-needed slumber.  Instead,  I found myself giving both afternoon and evening to Mr. Leax, allowing his  observations about the natural world and his own soul's participation in it  to guide me more deeply into awe and wonder.
John Leax is a poet, which  means that he sees beyond the appearances of things to the truth of things.  To be sure, he does see the appearances of things in nature, and notes  them well, but then goes on to make connections to our human nature. Thus  "Out Walking" reads both as nature writing and wisdom literature.
One of the poems that Leax has included in his volume is entitled  "The Larger Flow."  Tracing the stream of water gurgling from one  of the little springs on his woodlot to the Atlantic Ocean, he suggests  that our own lives, like the waters flowing to the sea, are being gathered,  with all other lives, into the larger flow of God's unbounded love.  What a  healing, hopeful image for a world still too fractured by the dividing  walls of hostility and enmity!
Slumber delayed by the poignance, passion,  and poetry of "Out Walking," at day's end I now "can lay me  down to sleep" more grateful, more human, more whole than at day's  beginning.  I cannot ask for more than that.
1700386
Fr. Murray Bodo has compiled a multi-faceted look at prayer which reflect his Franciscan background as well as his experiences resulting in a life dedicated to prayer.
Topics vary from contemplation; to the need for discussion of spiritual growth and teaching amongst ourselves; to spending a week Thomas Merton's hermitage in Gethsemani, KY; to an east - west conference where he spent time with the Dali Lama; interviewing an American Indian spiritual healer; to reflections on his remembering his father after his going home to the Lord.
I enjoyed reading this book. I take away that we need to enter into the mystery of God, be still and attempt to listen. For it is there that the soul is changed, transformed without us ever being aware that anything is happening.
Thank you Fr. Bodo for your writing and sharing your faith so that others may learn.
3500911
A wonderful portrait and a great plot. I highly recommend it as a pacey read with many points of reflection and insight.