The Lost Art of Thinking

We all think. Right? Wrong. Few of us really think. Thinking is a lost Art.

The Art of Thinking requires the ability to permit the mind to come fully into focus on something, to search for the essence of that something. It could be a thought, a feeling, an experience, or an object. By contemplating that thought, feeling, experience, or object profoundly, the secrets of the universe open up to us.

Yet here is the Zen of Thinking. Before we can fill our mind with the contemplated "thing", we need to completely empty our mind. That is extremely difficult! The practice of Yoga and Meditation has honed the science of emptying the mind to an art. The benefit of emptying the mind is that we also release ourselves from the thoughts, feelings, sensations, and experiences that actually block our ability to think. The Zen is that the beginning of the Art of Thinking is no thinking!

Once we have emptied our mind, then we are ready to fully contemplate. Paulo Coelho wrote: "All you have to do is contemplate a simple grain of sand, and you will see in it all the marvels of creation." That quote is famous for a reason. Because it is true. When we fully contemplate even a grain of sand, we peer into the way the universe is created. We contemplate the interconnectedness of creation. We ponder the beyond creation, the spiritual reality. We loft our mind into the divine. Now that is Thinking! Fully contemplating any creation of God liberates our mind and spirit.

Shakespeare portrayed Hamlet contemplating Yorick's skull. A human skull more readily has a thought provoking power than a grain of sand, especially if the skull belonged to someone we knew. We naturally drift into a contemplation of the impermanence of life on earth and reflections on the life after death. Indeed, I think that it would be true to say that the beginning of wisdom comes from the contemplation of death. We quickly come to the thought, is this all there is or is there more after death? We begin to ponder the spiritual.

You see, it is when we ponder the spiritual that our thinking is put to the real test. Can we contemplate from what we see to what we can't see? That is where the power of the mind and the Art of Thinking rises to its fully glory. Only with the mind can we fully comprehend the spiritual reality. Anyone who denies eternal spiritual reality will be a cynical Hamlet contemplating Yorick's skull. The person who embraces the spiritual reality with their mind finds liberation from cynicism.

The power of the mind, the Art of Thinking, becomes energized with the realm of feeling. There can be no profound thought without feeling. Reality is feeling and the essence of a thing contemplated can only be grasped through feeling. That is why art, music, and mathematics have such a profound sway upon the thinking person. We can grasp truth through art, music, and mathematics that can never be grasped logically. All truth has at its core ecstasy or joy.

We have the ability, and the responsibility, to discover the truth through practicing the Art of Thinking. The ability to find and recognize the truth. Ah, yes, there is the rub! What is truth?

³⁷"You are a king, then!" said Pilate.
Jesus answered, "You are right in saying I am a king. In fact, for this reason I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone on the side of truth listens to me."

³⁸"What is truth?" Pilate asked. With this he went out again to the Jews and said, "I find no basis for a charge against him. John 18:37-38 (New International Version)

Pilate said there is no way to know truth so don't bother. Jesus said the truth is within us, that the Kingdom of God is within us. Jesus taught us to have confidence in ourselves, in our ability to know the truth.

One of the key reasons we have lost the Art of Thinking is that we have lost the confidence that we are capable of discovering what is true. We feel that we need something or someone to help us understand, to tell us what to believe, to tell us what is true.

Well, here is the secret. We possess the power to know the nature of things by exercising the power of our minds to think. That's the secret. Think. We can only understand the nature of life, the purpose of life, through the naked power of the mind. We can only understand by practicing the Art of Thinking.

Christ in Tremper's Field

The best part of every day for me is when Cayman, our Rhodesian Ridgeback-Yellow Lab dog, begs for a walk. We have been blessed with a home that sits on 3 acres of lovely forested land adjoining about 250 acres of forests and fields.

I especially love when Cayman and I take a walk during the late spring and early summer. As we walk through our property, along a steep path with undulating hills, the "best dog in the world" sets the pace. He prances, walking with a princely gate swaying side to side, with his trademark floppy ear laying back on his head.

Cayman is a beautiful dog. Friendly, happy, strong, big, obedient, kind with children and other pets. Although he is, indeed, hell on wood chucks. I have to do my best to get to him when he catches one to save the poor wood chuck. So far I have succeeded every time. A couple years ago, Cayman ran after deer and disappeared for a few hours. Today he obeys my voice and holds back, letting the graceful deer bound away, white tail switching, into the forest.

Lately, Cayman and I have enjoyed walking daisy lane into Tremper's Christmas tree field. That is the most glorious stretch of path through fields and forest that God every created. A couple months ago, white daisies clustered in choirs singing Hallelujah at the top of their lungs. A few weeks ago, brilliant yellow daisies with black button centers joined the chorus. They make perfect harmony, the heavens sing with the angels joining in as Cayman prances and I joyfully stroll along daisy lane.

For me, the true glory of our daily walk begins in Tremper's field. The Tremper family had lived on the farm for hundreds of years so I have fittingly named the field, Tremper's field. The trees in Tremper's field have much to teach. An aged Dogwood stands fully in the field without any trees nearby to block its sunlight. Without competition, the Dogwood has grown into a magnificent tree, spreading over a large patch of field with its branches stretching out perfectly in a tall umbrella under the heavens.




In May, the Dogwood blooms perfect blossoms. The blossoms even surpass the perfection and beauty of the daisies along daisy lane. After the blossoms fade and fall, I think nothing to follow could rival their beauty. Yet, the Dogwood has not finished astounding me. Throughout June and into July, its perfect leaves panel out taking advantage of every inch of air and sky. The picture is perfect and joyful to behold.

Yet the most astounding change comes during the late fall and winter, after all Dogwood's leaves have fallen. Standing gnarled and rickety, the Dogwood reveals its age. Surely the tree is old enough to be in the last years of its life. Yet, even in its last days, the Dogwood revealed its vigor through the beauty of its blossoms and leaves. Although gnarled and twisted, it is surely in its prime.



Other trees stand in Tremper's field grandly, alone, spreading their branches covering vast distances in umbrage and height. They, indeed, are glorious. Yet none of the trees give me pause like that noble Dogwood. Poems have been written about the spreading Chestnut tree, yet the state of Virginia named the Dogwood blossom its state flower. Like Virginia itself, the Dogwood is old and gnarled, yet beauty returns to its branches even in old age.

There is even a legend that the Romans nailed Jesus on a cross made of Dogwood.

Legend of the Dogwood

~ Unknown

In Jesus time, the dogwood grew
To a stately size and a lovely hue.
'Twas strong & firm it's branches interwoven
For the cross of Christ its timbers were chosen.

Seeing the distress at this use of their wood
Christ made a promise which still holds good:
"Never again shall the dogwood grow
Large enough to be used so
Slender & twisted, it shall be

With blossoms like the cross for all to see.
As blood stains the petals marked in brown
The blossom's center wears a thorny crown.

All who see it will remember me
Crucified on a cross from the dogwood tree.
Cherished and protected this tree shall be

A reminder to all of my agony."

Rather than symbolizing the cross to me, the Dogwood in Tremper's field symbolizes Christ. He had the courage to stand out among people, to reveal his glory like a city on a hill, like a lighted candle on a stand. He did not hide among people but strove to become the example for all people.

We can learn a lesson from that awe inspiring Dogwood. Seek to stand in a place in the field unencumbered by other trees. Give gratitude when we are placed as a seed far removed from others so that we can grow to our fullness. We will grow into who we have been destined to be by the creator and designer of the Dogwood seed. It takes courage to stand alone in the field, choosing to stand in the full light of day rather than cowering in the crowded forest. Full grown, grandly expanded, in full view for all to see and enjoy. Our majesty, like that of the Dogwood, abounds in the boundless field.

Yes, my daily walk with Cayman through Tremper's fields is a gift from God. I take a step outside myself into the glory of God through his creation. I find myself in the white and yellow daisies, in the Oak and Magnolia trees, among the bounding deer and the soaring hawk. I find myself in front of the glorious, gnarled, blossom bedecked Dogwood in the openness of Tremper's field.

Although many grand Dogwoods have spread their branches over fields throughout the past 6000 years since the dawn of human civilization, none have been as glorious as the one I see every day on my walk with Cayman through Tremper's fields.

April 15th: The Day Abraham Lincoln Died

"The last breath was drawn at 21 minutes and 55 seconds past 7 A.M. and the last heart beat flickered at 22 minutes and 10 seconds past the hour on Saturday, April 15, 1865." Carl Sandburg marked Lincoln's last moment of life in his monumental biography of Abraham Lincoln.

Lincoln had prophetic dreams about his pending assassination. He considered himself a man of destiny and believed that his life would end at the hands of an assassin. Few will miss the irony of his assassination taking place on Good Friday, the day that Jesus suffered crucifixion on the cross. Lincoln had lived in a way similar to Christ, carrying his cross throughout the four bloodiest years in the history of the United States of America as the leader of the cause to preserve the union.

Lincoln's death came a few days after General U.S. Grant received the surrender of General Robert E. Lee on Palm Sunday 1865. Although the Confederacy had yet to formally surrender, all expected a complete and unconditional surrender soon. President Lincoln had made a daring visit to Richmond the day after Grant's army rode into the city. Lincoln sat in Jefferson Davis's chair in the capital building, pondering the man who had sat as his adversary throughout the four, long, horrendous years.

Lincoln had not even wanted to attend Ford's Theater that evening. He had no interest in watching the British play, Our American Cousin. Yet is wife insisted, wanting to celebrate the expected end of the war with levity and amusement. Once the announcement had been made in the newspapers, Lincoln felt obliged to attend, even though he had forebodings.

The death of Lincoln, like the death of Christ, seemed destined and nothing could stop it. Just as the Civil War seemed destined to exact the death of 620,000 North and South, Providence appeared to require the death of Lincoln upon the cross for the nation's sin of slavery. Slavery, that horrific practice of owning men like animals, led the United States into hell fire and brimstone, into an apocalypse of fury and destruction.

Why had the English colonies in America received African slaves? Pure and simple, making a profit through selling agricultural products. During the 1600s in New Amsterdam, slavery had been admitted and then dropped. The Dutch plan to create plantations worked by African slaves failed. In Jamestown, the effort to plant slavery in the 1600s succeeded. The Southern way of life and slavery became inextricably interwoven, especially for the aristocratic slave holders like Washington and Jefferson.

Slavery. The cross upon which Lincoln died. Did John Wilkes Booth, the foremost Shakespearean actor at the time in the United States, assassinate Lincoln because he abolished slavery? No. Booth's reason for killing Lincoln lay simply in his fury at the disgrace brought by the South's defeat. He held Lincoln responsible for that defeat and humiliation. Ironically, Lincoln would much rather have attended a Shakespeare play with Booth on the stage than Our American Cousin.

If God had wanted to save Lincoln's life that night, he could have easily done so. A combination of events, all essential to the success of the assassination, coincided. Lincoln's preferred body guard had other duties, leaving a misfit to protect his back in Ford's Theater. Rather than stay at his post, he went out for drink and women in the street. That allowed Booth to take his hiding place next to Lincoln's box. Booth used a single shot derringer from five feet distance to kill Lincoln. Angels surely could have fended away that inadequate bullet. But, no, the bullet struck Lincoln mortally.

Why did Lincoln have to die, crucified on Good Friday? If he had lived, how very different the Reconstruction would have been. Lincoln's lack of desire for revenge, his single-minded intention to forgive and welcome back all southerns who took a pledge of allegiance to the United States of America, his commitment to ease freed slaves successfully into the fabric of American society would have made for a very different nation.

Instead, Andrew Johnson, the vice president sworn in upon Lincoln's death, had a far less charitable stance toward the South. He held that punishment for rebellion is the proper and right course. The North would force the South through Reconstruction. The long road for freed slaves into full citizenship began. A road that, under Lincoln, certainly would have been shorter and more successful. If Lincoln had served through his second term, maybe Fredrick Douglas would have eliminated the need for Martin Luther King 100 years later. Who knows? Who knows . . . .

Yet we are often pawns of destiny far more than shapers of destiny. We have parts to play in the grand unfolding of the Providence of God. Why did God require the sacrifice of Abraham Lincoln on April 15th, 1865? Why did God require the sacrifice of Jesus Christ the same day about 1830 years earlier? The ways of God are mysterious and past all understanding. Yet we know that great people who believe in love often end their earthly lives on the cross. And, although we would prefer---as surely they would---that they lived, through their life and death on the cross of the providence, the world is a vastly better place.

V. A Quest for Peace: Kibbutz Sasa

(Continued)

A Quest for Peace: Kibbutz Sasa

I. Peace City

II. Spiritual Quest

III. America

IV. Community

V. Kibbutz Sasa
VI. Jesus Christ Superstar
VII. Christian
VIII. Kingdom in Israel
  IX. The Second Coming

 

After spending the night in a cold, early April rain without cover outside the walls of a Israeli settlement near the Lebanese border, I spent the second day walking for the entire day. Toward evening, I came over a hill and looked down upon a glorious scene. A kibbutz stretched out nestled in the hills of the Galilee. I felt I had found my City of Peace, Kibbutz Sasa.

 

Safed

Kibbutz Sasa became my home for the next few months. Perched in the beautiful Galilee, overlooking Safed, the birthplace of the Kabbalah (Jewish mysticism) movement, I found the perfect place to experience first hand people attempting to live peaceable together. I recall looking over Safed at night, the stars populating the sky by the billions, while Safed glittered with night lights. I recall thinking that never has a more beautiful, more spiritual place ever existed.

The spring time in the Galilee is most glorious. Whenever I had free time I walked the throughout the hills around Sasa. Every month during the Spring the flowers changed, bringing a new chorus of delightful colors. I recall that the honey taken from the Galilee changed color every month along with the flowers. I often imagined what Jesus must have felt growing up as a boy in the Galilee, walking the same kinds of meadows I walked, through the hills I enjoyed.

I recall walking one day in the early summer heat through a wadis that wound from the Galilee to the Sea of Galilee. My route went through a desolate area. Beautiful grooves of trees thrived along a stream flowing through the valley. I went past Mt. Meron, to the southwest of Safed, past the small villages of Amirim, Kahal, Hukok, and finally to the Sea of Galilee just south of Capernaum. I believe that Jesus must have walked that very route from the Galilee to the Sea of Galilee, as it is desolate yet direct. Jesus' home village, Nazareth lay about fifteen miles southwest of Capernaum. He walked the region often during his too short thirty-three years on earth.

While living at Kibbutz Sasa, I dove into a study of the history of the commune and the kibbutz movement. I learned that at the end of the 19th century, Jews throughout the world began to feel a draw back to Israel. A movement sprang up, the Zionist movement, that promoted the return to Israel and the creation of a Jewish state. By the time of the outbreak of World War II, many Jews lived in Israel along side the Palestinians. When of  war of Independence broke out in 1948, 100,000 Jews had immigrated illegally into the British mandate of Palestine.

During beginning of the kibbutz movement in the early 1900s, the membership immigrating from Europe, the Ashkenazi, brought the ideas of Sigmund Freud and Karl Marx. They believed that the problems people suffer came from having parents, especially from the attachment with the mother, and ownership of property. At first, the community separated the baby from the mother and raised them at a community nursery without ever letting them know their mothers. In addition, the community did not sanction marriage. Every one was married to everyone. They rejected the idea of owning property or owning anything, including the "ownership" of the husband of the wife and vice versa.They upheld total equality between man and woman, making no distinction. The idea of keeping property in common had come from Karl Marx.

Over time, those radical ideas proved unworkable. Mothers wanted to know their children and the parents wanted to be husband and wife. The communal nursery continued but the children would stay at night with the parents. Parents married and lived together. The idea of communal work continued. Women shifted out of total equality of employment with the reality of pregnancy and child birth dawning. A crisis emerged with children growing up and leaving the kibbutz for life in the cities. The religious kibbutzim, which constituted a small percentage of the kibbutzim, had a much higher percentage of children remain on the kibbutz and proved more successful.

After a few months at Kibbutz Sasa, I realized that the kibbutz, although a noble effort and laudable attempt to create peace communities, fell short of the way for people to live together throughout the world. At about that time, during the summer of 1972, I learned of the filming of Jesus Christ Super Star in Israel and that they needed extras. That began the next stage of my quest for the City of Peace.

(Continued)