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Category: Benedictine

Benedictine/Spirituality

Hanging on loosely

Posted on August 12, 2008 by stephen t berg / 3 Comments

Things get taken. Things get lost. Things are never owned. We only get to use them for a while. In this life, renting, is a closer approximation of our relation...

Benedictine/Spirituality

Art of Communion

Posted on May 1, 2008 by stephen t berg / 0 Comment

May dawns gray. My screen dawns a dull white. I yearn for the sun and long for words transcendent. Words that commune as much as communicate. I have most of the...

Benedictine/Christianity/Religion

Ultimate Truth and Truthy Truth

Posted on December 9, 2007 by stephen t berg / 0 Comment

In a discussion about truth on a Benedictine forum I’m on, it occurred to me that I can become quite dogmatic in my belief that access to ultimate tr...

Benedictine/Spirituality

Moments

Posted on November 4, 2007 by stephen t berg / 4 Comments

Yesterday: We’re in Montana’s, with its open beams and front end of a truck through the roof and all-you-can-eat ribs on Wednesday. Waitresses, some...

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Over the coming months, I’ll be slowly retiring Grow Mercy. This Easter marks 20 years and some 1500 posts. (And here, a deep bow to you, for reading and/or responding.) I’ll not, however, be retiring the impulse behind Grow Mercy, but will be shifting, exploring, following a hybridized urge, and a genre to suit. For me, what these decades have increasingly revealed is how writing is a spiritual path. Now, for whatever time and energy remains for me, I’ll be tilting more toward The Ragged Psalmist, still inchoate, but the handle feels like it fits. I do hope you’ll subscribe.

Why — The Ragged Psalmist?

Because some stubborn ember, still warm, compels me to write some cobbled songs — praise and lament, cries and sighs — and sound them back to the sacred Mystery.

To throw a wrench into a world geared up for business; to resist the moneychangers in their corporate temples — because poetry is political, and light is its administrative wing.

Because old lies and old words screw us over and must be remade to tell the truth; because our glossary of mockery needs burial, and the lexicon that’s left needs anointing.

To strive to honour the life of a sparrow; attend the spell of a dead star — whose light we still see; to feel, down to the bone, the quantum foam, we all flail in.

To thicken compassion and thin out aggression; to oppose injustice and hate in a way that excludes no one, not even the hater.

To let failure, discouragement, suffering and perishing have their say, without any spoon of bromide; to let joy, delight, and beauty come as they may.

To penetrate darkness and delusion — and so discover all this love in us.

Because mindfulness and mercy need constant oxygen.

Because in the time that’s left I want to tattoo the implications of our “forgiving victim” on the body suit of my heart.

Because reality points to unity — and we must hurry to catch up.

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