Spirit of Adventure

Greetings from Griswold, IA, happy belated Pentecost and happy Ordinary Time.  I apologize for the incredibly long absence--academic writing unfortunately takes precedent over leisure writing and the blog has thus sat unattended for some time.  But I'm starting some exciting summer adventures.  First and foremost is my 8-day retreat.  I'm starting it out focusing on the Holy Spirit, which is perfect timing given both Pentecost and the summer adventures ahead.

You may recognize this wonderful dirigible as the Spirit of Adventure from the movie "UP!"  In thinking and praying about the upcoming adventures this summer, I realized that I have not looked for the root of my adventuring.  This wonderful retreat is affording me that opportunity.  So far, I've come up with this poem:

Standing high in Navajo country,
a wind rushes toward me
bearing the whispers of mountains
and the scatterings of pollen.
The pollen searches a place to settle and grow,
but home is a place wind will never know.
For it is a contemplative on mission
to spread its redemptive vision.
It pushes me down from mountain to plains
with the hope of instilling in me the same.

In my last blog post (November!?), I discussed the need for a place to return even amidst the adventures.  The poem does not allow for a stationary home.  The place to return often resides deep within us.  In my liberation theology class this semester, we discussed the transcendence of the Holy Spirit.  Transcendence is not floating above, away and apart from.  Rather, transcendence is a radical depth.  The Spirit becomes transcendent by burrowing into the center of us.  The Spirit drives my own spirit of adventure.  I am fairly predisposed to adventure, but the Spirit avidly takes hold and directs.  I adventure for discovery, love and transcendent depth.  They lie deep inside of me and I return there for those treasures of graces.

I leave you with this second poem and music video from Trapper Schoepp and the Shades.

Who resides deep inside me, not far from my xiphoid process.  From there, Who takes control when seen fit, causing my heart to beat like humming bird wings, my mind to move through that I cannot fathom, and my mouth to open for words I cannot control or explain.  But I know Who is their origin.  Not far from my xiphoid process, Who sneaks into an aorta and immediately spreads throughout me, latching like oxygen to my red blood cells.  Driving me forward, never resting like the wind bearing the clouds.
COMING SOON! -- A previously promised piece on urban adventure; some location reviews; and thoughts on balancing environmental stewardship and love of adventure.