My dad died on the last day of 2022. I was fortunate to have been with him and talk to him in the last days of his illness in hospital. He was 89 years old. I had a difficult relationship with him at times, but in the last decade, our relationship was close even though I have been living in Europe for the past 29 years. I miss our phone conversations and emails. From time to time I would find myself thinking of sending him an email about something, then I’d realize he’s no longer here. Those are the saddest moments. I pray for his soul everyday and have masses said for him. I find a lot of comfort praying for him - during my daily Rosary, at Mass, when I pray a Novena.
Coyote song is one of the most beautifully haunting sounds. We used to live out in the country and most nights in winter we heard them. Now, living in a small town, very rarely I hear snatches of them on the wind. Early one morning as I stood in the garden waiting for our dog to do her business, a gorgeous big coyote trotted up the street and crossed into the field across from the house. It felt like a confirmation of sorts, so I understand how you feel about your golf course pack. Thank you, as always, for sharing your thoughts...I waffle constantly between unplugging and walking away, and sticking around. Writers like you keep the pendulum swinging towards the 'sticking around' side. Take great care of yourself Jack...I hope you have easier days ahead.
Your story reminds me a bit of Robert Johnson, who among other things (studying with Carl Jung, and traveling through India) he also spent several years as a Benedictine monk.. but also left the order after a time. He has been much in my thoughts.
Recently, I have been living in Turkey and traveling through Greece, visiting churches and monasteries, and also wrestling with the the threads (and knots) of love that bind all of these traditions together.. (Hebraic, Christian, Muslim) with all of the blood shed between these three traditions—it is a daily question for me: how to take up the threads of love that have withered in these darkening days and not repeat the mistakes of the past, how to move forward with wisdom and discernment. For me it is a very personal question..but nevertheless one with very public implications.
In regards to Old man Coyote.. two of my favorite authors who have written on the topic, worth exploring. Dan Flores "Coyote America" and Lewis Hyde "Trickster Makes This World"
I'm sorry for your loss. I'm also happy for you that you had the true, long lasting gift of being there with your dying father. My own dad passed 18 years ago, aged 76, from a massive brain tumor. Six weeks from discovery to death. Filling the absence left by departed presence, well, we have no training in that at all, and it's hard. Otherwise, Radical contemplation: It reminds me of the Heidegger quote that goes something like: One of the most surprising things about our most surprising times is that we are still not thinking. --I think surprising is the wrong word, but the idea is there. Radical contemplation sounds something like daring the rigors of truth, something like doing the hard work of really thinking. Most people seem to speak in the voice of common opinion which is to speak without thinking at all. To actually think takes time, reflection, analysis, the opening up of awareness, work. I'd go for it as a radical act.
Throughout it all, the Coyote. The trickster. I think they were telling you something because of your reaction to them. I am aware that my reality is created by my mind and that this world doesn't actually exist anywhere except in our mind. Our collective mind and our private mind keep the illusion going. This is a very important clue as to how to deal with things and I wish I knew more than that, but as yet I do not. All I know is that if a particle can be in two places at the same time - something Quantum physics has proven - was it Bell? - then space time does not exist outside our brains.
Thank you for your writing about your father. I have never lossed anyone so close to me. I am 34 and currently live with my father, who is not in bad health and I expect to be around for a while...though as you mentioned, nothing is ever certain. I expect to be nearby for his passing, and that is something to contemplate over the years.
Concerning point 5., there is a really excellent novel I read a few years ago called 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘞𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘒𝘯𝘪𝘧𝘦 by Paolo Bacigalupi...about near-future Phoenix and its water struggles. An important part of the novel is a physical copy of a really-existing-in-our-world-book called 𝘊𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘤 𝘋𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘵: 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘈𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘞𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘋𝘪𝘴𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘞𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳 by Marc Reisner. Unfortunately, the novel is based on real possiblities that are expounded in 𝘊𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘤 𝘋𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘵. I believe in a thread a while ago you mentioned Phoenix being unecological; 𝘊𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘤 𝘋𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘵 explains this well and the issues at hand, while also talking a lot about LA --- Los Angeles is at least as unecological as Phoenix, especially when you consider the money and energy that has gone into, and still goes on to this day, getting water to LA.
Thanks for your posts and thoughts. I'm going to try listening to John Luther Adams. Ever heard of Harry Partch?
Sincerest condolences on the loss of your dear Father. I have been reading your consistently intriguing musings for some time & wanted you to know how much your words as well as your journey resonate. Yes to the work of John Luther Adams, wilderness & long live the coyote who adapts & persists. Much gratitude.
"I may be wrong of course, but the sense I get is that something resembling thinking (an inadequate word) goes on in the depths, largely outside the domain of language, and this happens whether one likes it or not".
You are not wrong. It seems "An inquiry into the good" by Nishida Kitarō will be for you.
There’s a statistic that if everyone in the world lived like an American, we would need 4.5 Earths to sustain us (a UK lifestyle would require 3.1 Earths, a German lifestyle 2.5 Earths, an Indian lifestyle 0.4 Earths). I don’t know how accurate these calculations are, but they came to mind as I was reading your piece.
The monastery may not have fit you, yet you have clearly taken something monastic away with you. Probably it was always there. And maybe we need a new order of monks? Not those who live in monasteries, but who move freely about civilization, demonstrating a different way to live.
My dad died on the last day of 2022. I was fortunate to have been with him and talk to him in the last days of his illness in hospital. He was 89 years old. I had a difficult relationship with him at times, but in the last decade, our relationship was close even though I have been living in Europe for the past 29 years. I miss our phone conversations and emails. From time to time I would find myself thinking of sending him an email about something, then I’d realize he’s no longer here. Those are the saddest moments. I pray for his soul everyday and have masses said for him. I find a lot of comfort praying for him - during my daily Rosary, at Mass, when I pray a Novena.
Coyote song is one of the most beautifully haunting sounds. We used to live out in the country and most nights in winter we heard them. Now, living in a small town, very rarely I hear snatches of them on the wind. Early one morning as I stood in the garden waiting for our dog to do her business, a gorgeous big coyote trotted up the street and crossed into the field across from the house. It felt like a confirmation of sorts, so I understand how you feel about your golf course pack. Thank you, as always, for sharing your thoughts...I waffle constantly between unplugging and walking away, and sticking around. Writers like you keep the pendulum swinging towards the 'sticking around' side. Take great care of yourself Jack...I hope you have easier days ahead.
You’re making a difference Jack. Thank you for writing and sharing some of your random thoughts in your difficult month.
Peace to you, Jack .. and a poem about fathers:
"Those Winter Sundays"
By Robert Hayden
Sundays too my father got up early
and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold,
then with cracked hands that ached
from labor in the weekday weather made
banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.
I’d wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking.
When the rooms were warm, he’d call,
and slowly I would rise and dress,
fearing the chronic angers of that house,
Speaking indifferently to him,
who had driven out the cold
and polished my good shoes as well.
What did I know, what did I know
of love’s austere and lonely offices?
**
Your story reminds me a bit of Robert Johnson, who among other things (studying with Carl Jung, and traveling through India) he also spent several years as a Benedictine monk.. but also left the order after a time. He has been much in my thoughts.
Recently, I have been living in Turkey and traveling through Greece, visiting churches and monasteries, and also wrestling with the the threads (and knots) of love that bind all of these traditions together.. (Hebraic, Christian, Muslim) with all of the blood shed between these three traditions—it is a daily question for me: how to take up the threads of love that have withered in these darkening days and not repeat the mistakes of the past, how to move forward with wisdom and discernment. For me it is a very personal question..but nevertheless one with very public implications.
In regards to Old man Coyote.. two of my favorite authors who have written on the topic, worth exploring. Dan Flores "Coyote America" and Lewis Hyde "Trickster Makes This World"
Safe travels on your way...
I'm sorry for your loss. I'm also happy for you that you had the true, long lasting gift of being there with your dying father. My own dad passed 18 years ago, aged 76, from a massive brain tumor. Six weeks from discovery to death. Filling the absence left by departed presence, well, we have no training in that at all, and it's hard. Otherwise, Radical contemplation: It reminds me of the Heidegger quote that goes something like: One of the most surprising things about our most surprising times is that we are still not thinking. --I think surprising is the wrong word, but the idea is there. Radical contemplation sounds something like daring the rigors of truth, something like doing the hard work of really thinking. Most people seem to speak in the voice of common opinion which is to speak without thinking at all. To actually think takes time, reflection, analysis, the opening up of awareness, work. I'd go for it as a radical act.
Throughout it all, the Coyote. The trickster. I think they were telling you something because of your reaction to them. I am aware that my reality is created by my mind and that this world doesn't actually exist anywhere except in our mind. Our collective mind and our private mind keep the illusion going. This is a very important clue as to how to deal with things and I wish I knew more than that, but as yet I do not. All I know is that if a particle can be in two places at the same time - something Quantum physics has proven - was it Bell? - then space time does not exist outside our brains.
My condolences. It is, like you say, a raw thing to lose your father.
Dear Jack,
I am so sorry for your loss and send my condolences and prayers. I will pray also for God to lead you onwards, best wishes Rick
>”I have been listening to the music of John Luther Adams lately ...”
Have you heard any of his “Become ...” series? I think there are 3: “Become Ocean”, “Become Ricer”, and “Become Desert” ... excellent in my opinion.
I'm so sorry to hear about your father, Jack. I'll add you and your family to my prayers. May God be with you and comfort you in this time.
Sending good thoughts you and your father's way.
Quakeress
I'm sorry for your loss, Jack. May your father's memory be eternal.
Thank you for your writing about your father. I have never lossed anyone so close to me. I am 34 and currently live with my father, who is not in bad health and I expect to be around for a while...though as you mentioned, nothing is ever certain. I expect to be nearby for his passing, and that is something to contemplate over the years.
Concerning point 5., there is a really excellent novel I read a few years ago called 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘞𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘒𝘯𝘪𝘧𝘦 by Paolo Bacigalupi...about near-future Phoenix and its water struggles. An important part of the novel is a physical copy of a really-existing-in-our-world-book called 𝘊𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘤 𝘋𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘵: 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘈𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘞𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘋𝘪𝘴𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘞𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳 by Marc Reisner. Unfortunately, the novel is based on real possiblities that are expounded in 𝘊𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘤 𝘋𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘵. I believe in a thread a while ago you mentioned Phoenix being unecological; 𝘊𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘤 𝘋𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘵 explains this well and the issues at hand, while also talking a lot about LA --- Los Angeles is at least as unecological as Phoenix, especially when you consider the money and energy that has gone into, and still goes on to this day, getting water to LA.
Thanks for your posts and thoughts. I'm going to try listening to John Luther Adams. Ever heard of Harry Partch?
Sincerest condolences on the loss of your dear Father. I have been reading your consistently intriguing musings for some time & wanted you to know how much your words as well as your journey resonate. Yes to the work of John Luther Adams, wilderness & long live the coyote who adapts & persists. Much gratitude.
"I may be wrong of course, but the sense I get is that something resembling thinking (an inadequate word) goes on in the depths, largely outside the domain of language, and this happens whether one likes it or not".
You are not wrong. It seems "An inquiry into the good" by Nishida Kitarō will be for you.
Link: https://archive.org/details/inquiryintogood0000nish/page/n9/mode/2up
There’s a statistic that if everyone in the world lived like an American, we would need 4.5 Earths to sustain us (a UK lifestyle would require 3.1 Earths, a German lifestyle 2.5 Earths, an Indian lifestyle 0.4 Earths). I don’t know how accurate these calculations are, but they came to mind as I was reading your piece.
The monastery may not have fit you, yet you have clearly taken something monastic away with you. Probably it was always there. And maybe we need a new order of monks? Not those who live in monasteries, but who move freely about civilization, demonstrating a different way to live.