Contemplify

"Chris Dombrowski has proven himself to be among the best poets of his generation. As one of those readers who admired and enjoyed his first two books — better put, who has gone to the poems for spiritual sustenance, for wisdom, and for the magic of being transported to the landscapes where the poet makes his life—I'm happy to report that Ragged Anthem continues to sing those essential songs in beautiful and unexpected ways."

– Todd Davis, author of Native Species and Winterkill

This series will introduce you to two poets who help me circle the mystery: Chris Dombrowski and Jericho Brown. My hope is that through these conversations you'll get a taste of poetry as a contemplative gateway. Poetry has played that role for me as a contemplative practice; seeing reality from an angle that I had not yet noticed. Clear enough to see and yet cloudy enough to draw me closer, to engage all of my faculties in this new perception of reality. This practice of poetry drops me into the depth of my self, into the depth of Mystery.

In this trailer Chris Dombrowski reads, 'The Hunt' from his latest collection Ragged Anthem and Jericho Brown reads, "Of My Fury" from his latest collection The Tradition

This final episode of the Life of a Day series is all about you. It is about offering a reframing of your day with a new way of seeing, a new way of showing up as a contemplative in the world.

"The church is near, but the road is icy.

The bar is far away, but I will walk carefully."

— Russian proverb

I raise this frosty pint in your direction for this fifth installment of the Life of the Day series here on Contemplify where I'll be exploring my interpretation of the divine hour called 'Compline'.

'There are two ways to wash the dishes. The first is to wash the dishes in order to have clean dishes and the second is to wash the dishes in order to wash the dishes.' - Thich Nhat Hanh

My intention here is to be present at hand to the dish in my hand. Perhaps we'll strike gold today and I'll communicate some semblance of that in this fourth installment of the Life of the Day series here on Contemplify.

"Few people know how to take a walk. The qualifications are endurance, plain clothes, old shoes, an eye for nature, good humor, vast curiosity, good speech, good silence and nothing too much."

- Ralph Waldo Emerson

This is the third jaunt of the Life of the Day series here on Contemplify.

My old pal Thomas Merton wrote, '[Contemplation] can be suggested by words, by symbols, but in the very moment of trying to indicate what it knows the contemplative mind takes back what it has said, and denies what it has affirmed.'

So...how do I talk about contemplation then? Briefly.

My intention here is to grasp at words that give shape to the formless abiding, even if only for a moment. If we are lucky here today, I'll communicate some semblance of that in this second installment of the Life of the Day series here on Contemplify.

My intention here is to kick off the Life of a Day series in grand style, with coffee. This is the first installment of the Life of the Day series here on Contemplify, which is the reimagining of the Divine Office into my own personal reflective interpretations as a contemplative in the world. The intention is to mark each of the Hours but in a form very different from their regular practice behind monastery walls. In other words, this is what a contemplative rhythm looks like in my particular life.

How does contemplation appear in the life of your day? I've heard from many of you that this question lingers as you listen to the contemplative echo calling you in your daily life. My hope is that this series will help you answer that question for yourself.

This episode came to life a month before my newborn son. Inspired by friends, poets and writers I mused over the words to offer my son as he packed up his belongings from the dark warmth of the womb and worked his way into the shivering light of humanity. Finally, I put ink to paper. Once complete, the following letter laid in waiting alongside the clutter of discarded receipts and grocery lists. The sacred and profane cohabiting on my night stand.

Weeks later, my son was born. Upon his entrance into this world, the world's response was immediate and in kind. Thunder clapped and rain poured in the desert. It's strange to be here. The Mystery never leaves you alone.

Here is that letter to my newborn son.