purpose and self-consciousness

I've thought of this blog a lot over the past few weeks and pondered my lack of posts. I think my posting-problem has to do with the fact that I am uncertain as to the "purpose" of this space. What is this exactly? A public journal? A place to rant, muse, spew, unload or reflect? And who is it for? Me or the two people who may end up reading it? Ah--like most things, purpose makes a difference. I like a couple of lectionary-based blogs I have stumbled across. So this might turn into something of that sort in the future. Or not. The purpose of this space is still working itself out.

I recently read something that made me think of this blog and my concerns. I'm hoping the author (a lovely and thoughtful priest) won't mind if I quote him: "The journey towards one's true self, and the journey towards God are the same journey. Not because the self is God, but because God, as our creator, redeemer, and sustainer, resides at the heart of every human soul. The quest to become one's true self does not require self consciousness. In fact, self preoccupation can mess up the whole venture. The self is a target best hit obliquely." (Eric Haarer, "Designed for Life" in Desert Call, Vol. 9 No. 3 Fall 2009, p. 18).

Eric's perspective on the spiritual quest speaks to my concern about the purpose of this blog. I do not wish for this blog-space to become a "self-preoccupation-space". I certainly don't need any more space for self-centeredness in my life. With that intention made explicit, time to do some blogging. (and the two of you who might read this, please do hold me accountable if this page descends into a self-centered muck of posts.)

For the Birds

I’m moved by birds—especially birds in plight. Birds are symbols of a sort of freedom I desire. To soar. To flit. To roam. To fly. Seeing any creature in pain is troubling, but particularly so for the birds. These winged-ones are specially equipped to escape danger. They can do what the rest of us can’t—just take off. So it shakes me to see them fall.

Turned the corner on the street today and walked into a dead pigeon. Freshly dead. He was soft and full looking and as yet unbothered by other creatures. So out of place, so wrong, this dead bird laid out on the sidewalk like a small pillow. The brick wall a couple feet away must have been the reason this snapshot of absurdity existed. Hitting brick walls in flight at break-neck speed will break your neck. Poor bird.

So many ways to go down—walls, deceptive glass, bigger birds, pellets and arrows, decoys, dogs, disease, a wind stronger then one’s wings…

Though flight has its advantages, I imagine, it seems to have its heartbreaks too. So here’s a little prayer for all the birds whose freedom is clipped, whose lives are short-lived, whose wings are damaged, who are ripped from the sky by outside forces—

Fly anyway
Fields and far-off branches beckon
Fly anyway
The predators pressure you and the weather threatens
Fly anyway
Barriers block the way
Fly anyway
Wings get tired
You’ve lost the nest
Fly anyway. Just fly, just fly today.

The Alpha Post

Well, I've had an account on blogger for over a year--I guess it is time to actually "blog". We'll see how many posts I have by this time next year. And what the content turns out to be. (ambiguity) And if there will be an end, or omega point, to this venture. (paradox)

A couple themes to explore...