Plain in the city

A plain Quaker folk singer with a Juris Doctorate in his back pocket, salt in his blood, and a set of currach oars in the closet, Ulleann Pipes under his arm, guitar on his back, Anglo Irish baggage, wandering through New York City ... in constant amaze. Statement of Faithfulness. As a member of the Quaker Bloggers Ad Hoc Committee I affirm that I will be faithful to the Book of Discipline of my Meeting 15th Street Monthly Meeting of the Religious Society of Friends.

Saturday, January 28, 2006


Last year, a little after this time, I believe God called me to strip away most every soft piece of flesh from my bones... I wrote about being asked to prune the tree of my life too fast and too deep. God didn't think so. I think I am in the process of returning the favor.

I found every comfort of my life falling away, my music, my singing voice, my friendships, my future expectation of a roof over my head, promises made to me by loved ones, hopes and dreams, ... and I began to learn to ask less of life, ask nothing of life.

Looking back, well, in some cultures the dead are left to dry for a year before burial. Cleansed, down to the bones... the pristine remains are laid in the grave, ready for eternity.

Well, God... all the myth and beauty which I was raised to see when I considered thee, even in the stark simplicity of Quakerism, the gentle image floating over the gathered meeting, the sweet stories and pretty pictures, the dreams and the flesh, I strip away from thee, to confront thee as best I can, ready for eternity, the stark emptiness of eternity before and after time and energy and form... everything and nothing at all - thee becomes you to me.


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