Thanks for the comments, Rooson and Roeker. Yes, rain - it captures the non-happening moments that we seldom think about, moments that later, when we do think about them, seem so meaningful even though nothing has happened. It is in these moments, I believe, where we come closest to 'being' - how it is meant to be but we almost never see. Precious, timeless - just as those people were who might be in the memory and are now gone. Not gushy sentimentalism, but the beauty of being, mixed with a knowing that can only be known in that simple, unhurried moment of being. Hard to put in simple words, easy to experience. So easy we often don't know we are doing it.
There was something else a friend brought up that has been pointed to in a new book, "From Teilhard to Omega," edited by Ilia Delio. In the first chapter by John Haught, we are told that the two visions of reality brought to us, that of the past and that of the present, have stifled the growth and meaningful impact of religion. The first, reality from the perspective of the past, is (surprising at first to me) the materialistic scientific view. This is not a criticism of the analytic scientific method, but of the view most often employed by modern science, and it is this: that all reality can be broken down into its lowest component parts (atoms and so on) to understand reality - which then makes it the reality of the past, before suns and solar systems and life and humans and such came together out of the parts. Such a view naturally pictures the world as "dead" and random, for "wholeness" cannot be found by disassembling. This is the classic materialistic view, and it is a dead weight on the soul.
The reality of the present is most often the view of the religions of today - that is, that all is made and done, and any movement will be a movement of degeneration, a movement away from the perfect creation that was done once and then left to be, to gradually lose its splendor as it drifts further from God through, in human terms, sin. This view, too, is dead weight, for what, then, compels us to look forward to tomorrow if tomorrow is at best only today, and most likely, worse? For Haught, we must have a reality of the future to reinvigorate religion and hope.
And it is this that my friend opined the other night - not that spiritual reality IS evolutionary necessarily, but that it HAS to be, for without it, we would simply sink under the weight of a dull and circular present. Why do anything at all if the best we can do is momentarily keep decay at bay?
This is exactly Haught's view and it is understandable. The question is, is spiritual evolution true? Here we are once again at this cross roads. While evolution might bring more hope, what if it is not true? Do we wish to worship a reflection of our own needs, such that we make a false god? Could "evolution" be the golden calf? The perennialists think so, and they point to the total sacredness of past ages: the Medieval, where all referred back to God, where nothing was taken as a reflection of one's individual genius or greatness. We find this in other eras as well, such as the long-lasting dynasties of Tibet. We also find this in our vocabulary, where words used commonly and grossly today were once sacred utterances ('awesome' comes to mind, but there are hundreds of others).
And yet - there IS evolution in the cosmos. Everything is changing and in that change, at least on this earth, life is moving towards greater and greater unity through complexity. Why is this? It is not logically necessary, and in fact, in non-living nature, the natural direction is towards disassembling. Why does life move against that? And in that, why did it move towards the self-aware consciousness that is found in none others but ourselves? Is there not something that is true in this?
And what of hope itself? Is that made-up or is that an emotion that is build in to the very direction of our movement - towards greater and greater unity (in physical form and in consciousness) that pulls us towards the greatest unity of all, God?
It seems possible, even likely. In the next several days I hope to find the inescapable reasons for hope in this new book, for,as my friend said, we need hope. And if we can no longer believe in a god and heaven in the sky, then what other hope but progress can we have? FK
There was something else a friend brought up that has been pointed to in a new book, "From Teilhard to Omega," edited by Ilia Delio. In the first chapter by John Haught, we are told that the two visions of reality brought to us, that of the past and that of the present, have stifled the growth and meaningful impact of religion. The first, reality from the perspective of the past, is (surprising at first to me) the materialistic scientific view. This is not a criticism of the analytic scientific method, but of the view most often employed by modern science, and it is this: that all reality can be broken down into its lowest component parts (atoms and so on) to understand reality - which then makes it the reality of the past, before suns and solar systems and life and humans and such came together out of the parts. Such a view naturally pictures the world as "dead" and random, for "wholeness" cannot be found by disassembling. This is the classic materialistic view, and it is a dead weight on the soul.
The reality of the present is most often the view of the religions of today - that is, that all is made and done, and any movement will be a movement of degeneration, a movement away from the perfect creation that was done once and then left to be, to gradually lose its splendor as it drifts further from God through, in human terms, sin. This view, too, is dead weight, for what, then, compels us to look forward to tomorrow if tomorrow is at best only today, and most likely, worse? For Haught, we must have a reality of the future to reinvigorate religion and hope.
And it is this that my friend opined the other night - not that spiritual reality IS evolutionary necessarily, but that it HAS to be, for without it, we would simply sink under the weight of a dull and circular present. Why do anything at all if the best we can do is momentarily keep decay at bay?
This is exactly Haught's view and it is understandable. The question is, is spiritual evolution true? Here we are once again at this cross roads. While evolution might bring more hope, what if it is not true? Do we wish to worship a reflection of our own needs, such that we make a false god? Could "evolution" be the golden calf? The perennialists think so, and they point to the total sacredness of past ages: the Medieval, where all referred back to God, where nothing was taken as a reflection of one's individual genius or greatness. We find this in other eras as well, such as the long-lasting dynasties of Tibet. We also find this in our vocabulary, where words used commonly and grossly today were once sacred utterances ('awesome' comes to mind, but there are hundreds of others).
And yet - there IS evolution in the cosmos. Everything is changing and in that change, at least on this earth, life is moving towards greater and greater unity through complexity. Why is this? It is not logically necessary, and in fact, in non-living nature, the natural direction is towards disassembling. Why does life move against that? And in that, why did it move towards the self-aware consciousness that is found in none others but ourselves? Is there not something that is true in this?
And what of hope itself? Is that made-up or is that an emotion that is build in to the very direction of our movement - towards greater and greater unity (in physical form and in consciousness) that pulls us towards the greatest unity of all, God?
It seems possible, even likely. In the next several days I hope to find the inescapable reasons for hope in this new book, for,as my friend said, we need hope. And if we can no longer believe in a god and heaven in the sky, then what other hope but progress can we have? FK
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