Thoughts on traveling through life
My friend Randy sent me this and I thought I would pass it on.
Blessings,
Toby
Adam Comes Home From Italy
Thoughts on traveling through life and finding God in the process
By Randy Johnson
I’ve spent most of my life reaching out to God like Michelangelo’s Adam, and the last couple of hours gazing down at Greenland, contemplating The Mystery that lies in the space between the fingertips of God and man. We’re returning home from our second trip to Italy, and as my beautiful wife Cindy sleeps peacefully beside me, and this amazing frozen wonderland slips silently beneath, I feel the beauty of The Mystery and the narrowing of the space.
We’ve just spent two scrumptious weeks in Positano, Italy. It’s a beautiful coastal town that clings to cliffs on the south side of a peninsula just south of the bay of Naples on the famous Amalfi coast. Two years ago we traveled to Italy spending a week in Rome (Oh my God!), a week in Tuscany and Florence (Oh the Chianti and cheese!), and a week on the Amalfi coast in Sorrento and finally Positano (Ahh, the Mediterranean….). After that whirlwind we promised each other that the next time we went to Italy we’d rent a little apartment in Positano and kick back and relax. And we did. It was just perfect. Cindy loves to research and plan these adventures, looking up websites and e-mailing like crazy. I like to take lots of pictures. But what we both love most about travel, besides getting out of town, is connecting with another part of our human family by being open and vulnerable enough to allow them to help us feel at home in their house.
Two weeks ago on the way to Positano I was reading Donald Millers book, Blue Like Jazz. I had read a review of it in the Oregonian newspaper and thought we had some things in common about our disenchantment with our involvement in evangelical Christianity. We didn’t. He’s still trying to make it work. Anyway, in one of his essays he commented on “Mans rebellion toward God”. That phrase used to really put me in my place. Not any more. I realized I hadn’t thought about it for years, and found myself kicking it around in my head like an Italian Futbol while immersing myself in the Beauty of Positano and its people.
Twenty years ago after walking away from organized religion I needed a new way to express the Spiritual energy I’d always known but now had no language for. I needed time to decompress after nearly drowning and was surprised to find that what remained after I healed was the simple faith, the innocent belief and complete trust in God, that I knew as a child. When I was little it was as if I could see through ordinary reality to something profound and powerful behind it, that somehow created and sustained it. And it was at this time when I was 3 or 4 years old that I remember my beautiful Mother shaping within my sisters and I a concept of God. But until I was 5 or 6 and began dressing up, sitting in pews, and learning about the ‘us against them’ of good and evil, I was simply in awe of a Mystery. I didn’t understand it and didn’t need to, although now it began to have the word ‘God’ attached to it. All it took was a field of yellow flowers, or singing harmony with Mom to the radio from the back seat of our Dodge to fill me with the Joy of that Mystery. I could feel then that I was a part of something, included in it not separated from it like I would soon enough be taught.
If I ever did rebel against God, it was in those next twenty-five years squeezed into the mold of convention, willing myself to walk this narrow path, forcing myself to obey like a proper soldier, and admit I needed a savior. And in exchange, the peer pressure of salvation would be gone. Soon the waters of baptism covered me, and I left The Mystery behind, accepting the assurance that The Bible had been sent to reveal The Mystery. And I emerged emptied of Spiritual innocence, to be replaced by the fear and guilt that would be the bane of my existence for years to come.
So far Cindy’s planning has been flawless. The Internet is an amazing place. We landed in Naples, walked out the Escita (exit) from customs to face dozens of cardboard signs with names scribbled on them and eyes peering over the top. We searched for ours, found it, introduced ourselves to our driver Giovanni (who we would soon learn is married and has a two year old son Luigi), hopped in his brand new 4-door Mercedes sedan and were off to Positano. Whew! We were beat! Reaching Positano from Naples by car takes about an hour and change, passing Mt. Vesuvius and Pompeii on our left then skirting the gorgeous bay of Naples on our right. We soon left the Naples coast and wound our way up and over the peninsula dropping down to the rocky and steep Amalfi coast to Positano and the stunning Mediterranean Sea.
Cindy had arranged via e-mail to meet the property manager Dominico at 5:30 p.m. We arrived at 5:15 and at precisely 5:30 a car pulled up and a nicely dressed man walked up and Giovanni introduced us to Dominico who walked us less than a hundred yards down a typical Positano winding narrow alleyway to our apartment. There we met Teresa the 65 year-old owner of the property who showed us around the apartment and invited us to her home for breakfast the next day. She lived another hundred yards down the same alleyway in a Pensione called the Casa Teresa. We sat at a table on our balcony overlooking the Mediterranean and the town of Praiano in the distance, received some last-minute instruction, paid for the apartment, said “Grazie, Ciao!” and we were alone. Finally! It was Thursday 6:30 p.m. local time but Friday 9:30 a.m. Salem time. We had been up for well over twenty-four hours and were running on empty. Jet-lag’s a bitch, but knowing that the best way to get over it is to get right into local time, we changed into shorts and sandals and headed out into the 85 degree Positano evening.
I had rediscovered the faith of my childhood, and knew I had more work to do because I was now a Man asking the very grown-up questions I’d denied myself all those years in the church. So I dove headlong into Buddhism, then Hinduism, Sikhism, Taoism, and Sufism (“Do something foolish like Noah, because it makes absolutely no difference what other people think of you”, Rumi), I love that! I began specifically seeking out the mystical branches of each ‘ism’ because they were rising above the dogmas and pushing the limits of the esoteric arts to find and verify Truth. I wasn’t looking for another religion to join. I was done with that. But I did find that discovering the common threads that seemed to run from one to another would begin to fill me with that Mysterious joy I knew as a child!
Then one day while doing some reading, Cindy and I discovered the amazing nineteenth century Bengali saint Sri Ramakrishna. He and his wife Sarada Devi lived and taught at the Kali temple complex northwest of Calcutta India, on the banks of the Ganges River. He believed in the unity of all religions saying, “ Religions are pearls with the thread of Truth holding them all together”. I knew then that the Joy I was feeling was what it felt like for me to know Truth, that elusive birthplace of creation that lies in the space between Adam and God. I was open to it, filled with it, afloat in a Heavenly dialog of wordless communion. I was Loving and being loved, outside of time, in the present moment in a field of possibility and a beautiful state of Grace. It seems to me that we can treat this space in two ways; 1) as the space where God and man meet in communion, or 2) like every religion throughout time, using the space to try and convince us we are separated from God. I choose the former. There is no separation for me. The Space is without us and within us, giving us life and allowing us to experience Grace. There has been enough damning separation. It’s time to put that concept behind us and begin living in the Space.
On our third morning in Positano, I jumped out of bed and couldn’t walk for the pain! You can’t take one step here without stepping up or stepping down. My shins and calves hurt so bad I wanted to curse. Actually I think I did. But after a minute of excruciating stretching, I found I could walk without expletives. So I filled our little moka pot with water and espresso and placed it on the stove, (Did I tell you how nice it was to have our own kitchen?), and walked to our little neighborhood grocery store to see what fresh fruit was available. Meanwhile Cindy was cutting up bread and fixing two bowls of to-die-for goat milk yogurt and honey. Breakfast is simple and light in Italy and their picked-ripe cantaloupe and strawberries reminded us of when we were kids.
Our apartment is in the old part of Positano, away from the busy streets and tourist shops. Breakfast on the balcony was the best because along with roosters, birds, dogs and cats, we could hear Italian mothers getting their children ready and off to school. Then there was the peaceful, still, azure Mediterranean Sea with boats coming and going inviting the imagination to journey beyond the horizon to the shores of North Africa. Magnificent!
Walking to the Spiaggia Grande (big beach) took twenty minutes once we found some shortcuts in twisting alleyways and down hundreds of steps. The beach (pebbles not sand) is lined with shops and outdoor restaurants that look out to a little pier with rental boats and a bay full of bobbing fishing boats. To get home from the beach we walked past the beautiful tile-domed millennium-old Duomo (Cathedral). Originally the Abbey of Santa Maria e San Vito, which since the 17th century has been The Parish Church of Positano, dedicated to Our Lady of the Assumption. From there we walked up a labyrinth of shop-lined walkways to the main piazza and Fermata (bus) stop. The Interno Positano busses run like clockwork every 30 minutes, and for 1 euro you can ride as long as you wish, or to the stop of your choice. Smart to walk down and ride the bus up don’t you think?
Living in the Space requires the acceptance of the ‘Thread of Truth’ idea, which not only applies to religion but to everyone and everything. First I need to be conscious to make the effort. That’s the tough part. Usually I’m occupied with the antics of those two major control freaks, the mind and ego. But if, for example, while talking to someone, I remember the Space, my awareness expands beyond the mind and ego. My heart begins to open and whatever physical, mental or emotional stress I may have been feeling begins to fade. Next comes recognition, I know this Soul somehow. Then the dual conversation begins. While conversing verbally we begin a Spiritual conversation, encouraging and loving each other. All judgment is gone. I’m at once in ordinary reality and non-ordinary reality. Then from Heaven descends this extraordinary state of Grace. It’s where I belong. Try it; it will change your life. Don Miller in Blue Like Jazz admits he has trouble-accepting Grace. Don’t my friend. Accept Grace, it’s humbling, good for the Soul, and brings healing to the body.
This exercise can be applied in every situation you find yourself. Try it walking alone in the woods, or out in your garden. Try it while driving in traffic with all those people in their cars around you. Try it in all the situations you find yourself. My biggest struggle with it right now is at work. I’m a carpenter foreman up against scheduling deadlines, constantly decoding some architect’s intent, translating it into reality while finishing the job on time and under budget. It’s hard to get out into that rarified Spiritual air with everything else going on. But, I’m working on it.
When we were in Rome two years ago we took a day to tour Vatican City and its museums. Saint Peters square kind of takes your breath away. This huge elliptical Bernini design has a 4000 year-old Egyptian obelisk in the center and is surrounded by a colonnade of hundreds of huge columns drawing the eye to its central jewel, Saint Peters Cathedral. We entered Basilica de San Pietro and were immediately engulfed by the power and weighty history of the seat of the Roman Catholic Church. I can’t begin to express the size and splendor of the place. It’s like Las Vegas; amazing what man can do when money’s no object. But my desire was on the Sistine Chapel. To get to it we had to tour the Vatican Museums, with the Chapel its last stop. Museo Vaticano is simply overwhelming. It’s easy to get de-sensitized to the beauty of the place. But finally we entered the humble Cappella Sistina. I worked my way to the center of the crowded chapel, looked straight up and was blown away by the beauty above me! Michelangelo has outdone himself here. “La Creazione di Adamo”, ‘The Creation of Adam’. Spectacular! I don’t know what was on Michelangelo’s mind when he painted this but what I saw was me; a creation of God, a work in progress. God is in Heaven held by angels, leaning toward Adam, right arm and index finger completely outstretched- reaching. Then there’s Adam, newly created in time and space, lying on rocks propped up by his right arm and reaching out half-assed with his left toward God, elbow on knee and wrist and fingers limp. If he’d just stretch out his finger he could touch the hand of God. Come on Adam, it’s your turn; God’s making the effort.
Here’s my last journal entry in Positano; 8:15 p.m., May 23, 2006- “I’m sitting on our little balcony which seems so familiar now, in that frame of mind that moves from being here to leaving here. I’m finding myself playing back the tape instead of planning tomorrows adventure. Melancholy wonder is setting in. This trip is over, even though we’re still here. Tomorrow’s a moving day, not another day. I’m now looking forward to getting home, and looking backward to a wonderful time”.
Like all vacations this one has ended too soon. I’ll miss Positano with its domed-ceiling, whitewashed villas, narrow alleys, adorable children, obnoxious high-school girls, killer food, great wine and coffee, and kind-helpful old folks. I’ll miss the stunning vistas and the dreamy Mediterranean and the little altars built into walls everywhere we went. I’ll miss our helpful grocer and his mother, and Teresa and her husband of 50 years who patiently helped us with Italian as we helped them with English while emptying a bottle of Vino Rosso locale. But I’ll always carry with me the Spiritual connection we shared with those people and that place. We’ve left a little of ourselves at their house and brought back a little of them to ours.
Now this Adam is coming home. Cindy is sleeping silently beside me and the sun has been on the horizon for hours. It’s 77 degrees below zero outside at 37,000 feet and God’s Grace has descended again. And as Greenland shows off her pure-white majesty, I’m reminded that God is making the effort….
…. Now it’s my turn.
Contact me: Ransterman@comcast.net
toby@healingdrummer.com
www.healingdrumer.com
Blessings,
Toby
Adam Comes Home From Italy
Thoughts on traveling through life and finding God in the process
By Randy Johnson
I’ve spent most of my life reaching out to God like Michelangelo’s Adam, and the last couple of hours gazing down at Greenland, contemplating The Mystery that lies in the space between the fingertips of God and man. We’re returning home from our second trip to Italy, and as my beautiful wife Cindy sleeps peacefully beside me, and this amazing frozen wonderland slips silently beneath, I feel the beauty of The Mystery and the narrowing of the space.
We’ve just spent two scrumptious weeks in Positano, Italy. It’s a beautiful coastal town that clings to cliffs on the south side of a peninsula just south of the bay of Naples on the famous Amalfi coast. Two years ago we traveled to Italy spending a week in Rome (Oh my God!), a week in Tuscany and Florence (Oh the Chianti and cheese!), and a week on the Amalfi coast in Sorrento and finally Positano (Ahh, the Mediterranean….). After that whirlwind we promised each other that the next time we went to Italy we’d rent a little apartment in Positano and kick back and relax. And we did. It was just perfect. Cindy loves to research and plan these adventures, looking up websites and e-mailing like crazy. I like to take lots of pictures. But what we both love most about travel, besides getting out of town, is connecting with another part of our human family by being open and vulnerable enough to allow them to help us feel at home in their house.
Two weeks ago on the way to Positano I was reading Donald Millers book, Blue Like Jazz. I had read a review of it in the Oregonian newspaper and thought we had some things in common about our disenchantment with our involvement in evangelical Christianity. We didn’t. He’s still trying to make it work. Anyway, in one of his essays he commented on “Mans rebellion toward God”. That phrase used to really put me in my place. Not any more. I realized I hadn’t thought about it for years, and found myself kicking it around in my head like an Italian Futbol while immersing myself in the Beauty of Positano and its people.
Twenty years ago after walking away from organized religion I needed a new way to express the Spiritual energy I’d always known but now had no language for. I needed time to decompress after nearly drowning and was surprised to find that what remained after I healed was the simple faith, the innocent belief and complete trust in God, that I knew as a child. When I was little it was as if I could see through ordinary reality to something profound and powerful behind it, that somehow created and sustained it. And it was at this time when I was 3 or 4 years old that I remember my beautiful Mother shaping within my sisters and I a concept of God. But until I was 5 or 6 and began dressing up, sitting in pews, and learning about the ‘us against them’ of good and evil, I was simply in awe of a Mystery. I didn’t understand it and didn’t need to, although now it began to have the word ‘God’ attached to it. All it took was a field of yellow flowers, or singing harmony with Mom to the radio from the back seat of our Dodge to fill me with the Joy of that Mystery. I could feel then that I was a part of something, included in it not separated from it like I would soon enough be taught.
If I ever did rebel against God, it was in those next twenty-five years squeezed into the mold of convention, willing myself to walk this narrow path, forcing myself to obey like a proper soldier, and admit I needed a savior. And in exchange, the peer pressure of salvation would be gone. Soon the waters of baptism covered me, and I left The Mystery behind, accepting the assurance that The Bible had been sent to reveal The Mystery. And I emerged emptied of Spiritual innocence, to be replaced by the fear and guilt that would be the bane of my existence for years to come.
So far Cindy’s planning has been flawless. The Internet is an amazing place. We landed in Naples, walked out the Escita (exit) from customs to face dozens of cardboard signs with names scribbled on them and eyes peering over the top. We searched for ours, found it, introduced ourselves to our driver Giovanni (who we would soon learn is married and has a two year old son Luigi), hopped in his brand new 4-door Mercedes sedan and were off to Positano. Whew! We were beat! Reaching Positano from Naples by car takes about an hour and change, passing Mt. Vesuvius and Pompeii on our left then skirting the gorgeous bay of Naples on our right. We soon left the Naples coast and wound our way up and over the peninsula dropping down to the rocky and steep Amalfi coast to Positano and the stunning Mediterranean Sea.
Cindy had arranged via e-mail to meet the property manager Dominico at 5:30 p.m. We arrived at 5:15 and at precisely 5:30 a car pulled up and a nicely dressed man walked up and Giovanni introduced us to Dominico who walked us less than a hundred yards down a typical Positano winding narrow alleyway to our apartment. There we met Teresa the 65 year-old owner of the property who showed us around the apartment and invited us to her home for breakfast the next day. She lived another hundred yards down the same alleyway in a Pensione called the Casa Teresa. We sat at a table on our balcony overlooking the Mediterranean and the town of Praiano in the distance, received some last-minute instruction, paid for the apartment, said “Grazie, Ciao!” and we were alone. Finally! It was Thursday 6:30 p.m. local time but Friday 9:30 a.m. Salem time. We had been up for well over twenty-four hours and were running on empty. Jet-lag’s a bitch, but knowing that the best way to get over it is to get right into local time, we changed into shorts and sandals and headed out into the 85 degree Positano evening.
I had rediscovered the faith of my childhood, and knew I had more work to do because I was now a Man asking the very grown-up questions I’d denied myself all those years in the church. So I dove headlong into Buddhism, then Hinduism, Sikhism, Taoism, and Sufism (“Do something foolish like Noah, because it makes absolutely no difference what other people think of you”, Rumi), I love that! I began specifically seeking out the mystical branches of each ‘ism’ because they were rising above the dogmas and pushing the limits of the esoteric arts to find and verify Truth. I wasn’t looking for another religion to join. I was done with that. But I did find that discovering the common threads that seemed to run from one to another would begin to fill me with that Mysterious joy I knew as a child!
Then one day while doing some reading, Cindy and I discovered the amazing nineteenth century Bengali saint Sri Ramakrishna. He and his wife Sarada Devi lived and taught at the Kali temple complex northwest of Calcutta India, on the banks of the Ganges River. He believed in the unity of all religions saying, “ Religions are pearls with the thread of Truth holding them all together”. I knew then that the Joy I was feeling was what it felt like for me to know Truth, that elusive birthplace of creation that lies in the space between Adam and God. I was open to it, filled with it, afloat in a Heavenly dialog of wordless communion. I was Loving and being loved, outside of time, in the present moment in a field of possibility and a beautiful state of Grace. It seems to me that we can treat this space in two ways; 1) as the space where God and man meet in communion, or 2) like every religion throughout time, using the space to try and convince us we are separated from God. I choose the former. There is no separation for me. The Space is without us and within us, giving us life and allowing us to experience Grace. There has been enough damning separation. It’s time to put that concept behind us and begin living in the Space.
On our third morning in Positano, I jumped out of bed and couldn’t walk for the pain! You can’t take one step here without stepping up or stepping down. My shins and calves hurt so bad I wanted to curse. Actually I think I did. But after a minute of excruciating stretching, I found I could walk without expletives. So I filled our little moka pot with water and espresso and placed it on the stove, (Did I tell you how nice it was to have our own kitchen?), and walked to our little neighborhood grocery store to see what fresh fruit was available. Meanwhile Cindy was cutting up bread and fixing two bowls of to-die-for goat milk yogurt and honey. Breakfast is simple and light in Italy and their picked-ripe cantaloupe and strawberries reminded us of when we were kids.
Our apartment is in the old part of Positano, away from the busy streets and tourist shops. Breakfast on the balcony was the best because along with roosters, birds, dogs and cats, we could hear Italian mothers getting their children ready and off to school. Then there was the peaceful, still, azure Mediterranean Sea with boats coming and going inviting the imagination to journey beyond the horizon to the shores of North Africa. Magnificent!
Walking to the Spiaggia Grande (big beach) took twenty minutes once we found some shortcuts in twisting alleyways and down hundreds of steps. The beach (pebbles not sand) is lined with shops and outdoor restaurants that look out to a little pier with rental boats and a bay full of bobbing fishing boats. To get home from the beach we walked past the beautiful tile-domed millennium-old Duomo (Cathedral). Originally the Abbey of Santa Maria e San Vito, which since the 17th century has been The Parish Church of Positano, dedicated to Our Lady of the Assumption. From there we walked up a labyrinth of shop-lined walkways to the main piazza and Fermata (bus) stop. The Interno Positano busses run like clockwork every 30 minutes, and for 1 euro you can ride as long as you wish, or to the stop of your choice. Smart to walk down and ride the bus up don’t you think?
Living in the Space requires the acceptance of the ‘Thread of Truth’ idea, which not only applies to religion but to everyone and everything. First I need to be conscious to make the effort. That’s the tough part. Usually I’m occupied with the antics of those two major control freaks, the mind and ego. But if, for example, while talking to someone, I remember the Space, my awareness expands beyond the mind and ego. My heart begins to open and whatever physical, mental or emotional stress I may have been feeling begins to fade. Next comes recognition, I know this Soul somehow. Then the dual conversation begins. While conversing verbally we begin a Spiritual conversation, encouraging and loving each other. All judgment is gone. I’m at once in ordinary reality and non-ordinary reality. Then from Heaven descends this extraordinary state of Grace. It’s where I belong. Try it; it will change your life. Don Miller in Blue Like Jazz admits he has trouble-accepting Grace. Don’t my friend. Accept Grace, it’s humbling, good for the Soul, and brings healing to the body.
This exercise can be applied in every situation you find yourself. Try it walking alone in the woods, or out in your garden. Try it while driving in traffic with all those people in their cars around you. Try it in all the situations you find yourself. My biggest struggle with it right now is at work. I’m a carpenter foreman up against scheduling deadlines, constantly decoding some architect’s intent, translating it into reality while finishing the job on time and under budget. It’s hard to get out into that rarified Spiritual air with everything else going on. But, I’m working on it.
When we were in Rome two years ago we took a day to tour Vatican City and its museums. Saint Peters square kind of takes your breath away. This huge elliptical Bernini design has a 4000 year-old Egyptian obelisk in the center and is surrounded by a colonnade of hundreds of huge columns drawing the eye to its central jewel, Saint Peters Cathedral. We entered Basilica de San Pietro and were immediately engulfed by the power and weighty history of the seat of the Roman Catholic Church. I can’t begin to express the size and splendor of the place. It’s like Las Vegas; amazing what man can do when money’s no object. But my desire was on the Sistine Chapel. To get to it we had to tour the Vatican Museums, with the Chapel its last stop. Museo Vaticano is simply overwhelming. It’s easy to get de-sensitized to the beauty of the place. But finally we entered the humble Cappella Sistina. I worked my way to the center of the crowded chapel, looked straight up and was blown away by the beauty above me! Michelangelo has outdone himself here. “La Creazione di Adamo”, ‘The Creation of Adam’. Spectacular! I don’t know what was on Michelangelo’s mind when he painted this but what I saw was me; a creation of God, a work in progress. God is in Heaven held by angels, leaning toward Adam, right arm and index finger completely outstretched- reaching. Then there’s Adam, newly created in time and space, lying on rocks propped up by his right arm and reaching out half-assed with his left toward God, elbow on knee and wrist and fingers limp. If he’d just stretch out his finger he could touch the hand of God. Come on Adam, it’s your turn; God’s making the effort.
Here’s my last journal entry in Positano; 8:15 p.m., May 23, 2006- “I’m sitting on our little balcony which seems so familiar now, in that frame of mind that moves from being here to leaving here. I’m finding myself playing back the tape instead of planning tomorrows adventure. Melancholy wonder is setting in. This trip is over, even though we’re still here. Tomorrow’s a moving day, not another day. I’m now looking forward to getting home, and looking backward to a wonderful time”.
Like all vacations this one has ended too soon. I’ll miss Positano with its domed-ceiling, whitewashed villas, narrow alleys, adorable children, obnoxious high-school girls, killer food, great wine and coffee, and kind-helpful old folks. I’ll miss the stunning vistas and the dreamy Mediterranean and the little altars built into walls everywhere we went. I’ll miss our helpful grocer and his mother, and Teresa and her husband of 50 years who patiently helped us with Italian as we helped them with English while emptying a bottle of Vino Rosso locale. But I’ll always carry with me the Spiritual connection we shared with those people and that place. We’ve left a little of ourselves at their house and brought back a little of them to ours.
Now this Adam is coming home. Cindy is sleeping silently beside me and the sun has been on the horizon for hours. It’s 77 degrees below zero outside at 37,000 feet and God’s Grace has descended again. And as Greenland shows off her pure-white majesty, I’m reminded that God is making the effort….
…. Now it’s my turn.
Contact me: Ransterman@comcast.net
toby@healingdrummer.com
www.healingdrumer.com
posted by Toby Christensen at 8:38 AM
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