Gratitude for Everyone
In these times, we need to pull together and refuse to be divided
What’s it going to be, fellow humans? What can I be but grateful that we have arrived here and now? What are the odds that you and I would come to inhabit this jewel of a planet at this particular time in history? What are we going to do about it? What?
The answers are not immediately apparent - although, if, as it is said, past is prologue, it would appear that we are in for it. “It” - What is “It?” - That is a question that brighter minds than me have pondered and, in many cases, but one in particular, the interlocuters considering what “It” is simply refused to define “It.” - Ineffablility. That’s the word that is conjured as I think about “It” - and what “It” might mean.
I have mentioned in our subtitle that we need to pull together and refuse to be separated. I’ve done something along this direction, although it is not so much more than joining a group of friends who were reading and discussing a couple of short articles. I like to do this on Monday mornings and make a habit of it. I wish everyone had a cohort like mine, numbering about 30 individuals, who care enough to commit the hour between 7:30-8:30 AM every weekday morning to come together for our mutual aid and benefit.
Still, now, an hour or two later, I’m sitting here in the second bedroom tapping out these comments to all of you who are my subscribers. I’m grateful for everyone of you too, as well as those with whom I was sitting a short time ago. We are all in this together. Anyone is welcome in my morning gatherings. It’s strictly volunteer.
So, what is it? “It” is apparently the consciousness that flows through us. A river of thought pours through our synapses and informs our lives. Our filtering mechanisms insure that we are not completely overwhelmed by “IT” but we often are. Many of us simply shut down when. overwhelmed. It happened to one of my interlocuters this morning. I was attempting to convey something of the symbolism in my holding the door from falling shut leading downstairs from the room in which our gathering was held. I was asking if the individual had heard of Sam Shoemaker who, it seems, wrote a poem called “I Stand By The Door” - and suggesting that he might like to learn a bit about Sam and his role in history.
As often happens, my friend was not interested and I could tell was “blowing me off” - and I mentioned that I perceived that this was the case. One thing led to another and he commented that he never reads the literature left out at the Church either. My friend is a Catholic. Sam wasn’t. He was an Episcopal Priest and he had a hand in running the Calvary Mission in New York City back in the 1920s and 1930s - and maybe longer. He founded an outreach ministry of sorts that continues to this day if I am not mistaken, but before going there, let me just put “I Stand By the Door” here:
"I Stand By The Door" is a poem by Sam Shoemaker, a prominent figure in the Oxford Group movement and a spiritual mentor to Bill Wilson, co-founder of Alcoholics Anonymous. The poem uses the metaphor of standing by a door to represent a crucial role in guiding others to faith, particularly those who are seeking but haven't yet found their way to God. [1, 2, 3, 4]
Here's a breakdown of the poem's key themes:
The Door: Represents the door to God, the path to faith and spiritual enlightenment. [4, 5]
Standing By The Door: The speaker positions themself near the entrance, neither fully inside nor completely outside. [4, 5]
Helping Others: The speaker's primary focus is on assisting those who are lost or struggling to find the door, guiding them towards faith. [3, 4]
Knowing the Door: The speaker is aware of the door's existence and its significance, having experienced its entrance. [3, 4]
The Need for Both Experience and Guidance: The poem acknowledges the importance of both those who have gone deeply into faith (the "great saints") and those who remain outside, needing help to find the door. [3, 5]
Avoiding Isolation: The speaker stands by the door to avoid becoming too isolated in their faith, remembering the needs of those still seeking. [3]
This video discusses the poem "I Stand By The Door" by Sam Shoemaker:
AI responses may include mistakes.
[1] https://a2womensgroup.org/i-stand-by-the-door-the-ultimate-12th-step/
[2] https://www.aagrapevine.org/magazine/1967/feb/i-stand-door
[3] https://aainthedesert.org/wp-content/uploads/2019/01/I-STAND-BY-THE-DOOR.pdf
[4] https://www.thehomepagenetwork.com/i-stand-by-the-door/
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There you have it. I am grateful for everyone but I’m particularly grateful for all those who have gone before. This led me to a discussion about ignorance which didn’t get very far. I recounted that “Ignorance is viewed by Buddhism as a besetting evil” - and, although, I wasn’t allowed to complete the sentence that my interlocuter was now finding unbearable, the reason that it is such a pernicious evil in our world is that ignorance, to be ignorance, has to leave the sufferer unaware that they are ignorant. Attempting to extend the “gift of knowledge” to one who is insistent upon remaining ignorant is basically to have that gift taken in the “German” sense of the world “gift;” i.e., poison.
I was left with the awareness that the individual was showing themselves to be quite unwilling to receive what I had to say as a “gift” - going so far as to rudely and unjustly charge me with “going on and on” - which my conversation partner was clearly unwilling to see in themselves. I suggested that they might want to observe their own behavior and suggested that it might be of some value. It might yet be. I can certainly take my own suggestions and pass them on to you - as a “Gift” which brings me to the work of Lewis Hyde.
https://lewishyde.com/the-gift/
I’ll just leave that there for anyone of you to enjoy and again, exprexs my gratitude.
“I Stand at the Door”
- by Sam Shoemaker
I stand by the door. I neither go to far in, nor stay to far out.
The door is the most important door in the world - It is the door through which men walk when they find God.
There is no use my going way inside and staying there,
When so many are still outside and they, as much as I,
Crave to know where the door is.
And all that so many ever find
Is only the wall where the door ought to be.
They creep along the wall like blind men,
With outstretched, groping hands,
Feeling for a door, knowing there must be a door,
Yet they never find it.
So I stand by the door.
The most tremendous thing in the world
Is for men to find that door - the door to God.
The most important thing that any man can do
Is to take hold of one of those blind, groping hands
And put it on the latch - the latch that only clicks
And opens to the man's own touch.
Men die outside the door, as starving beggars die
On cold nights in cruel cities in the dead of winter.
Die for want of what is within their grasp.
They live on the other side of it - live because they have not found it.
Nothing else matters compared to helping them find it,
And open it, and walk in, and find Him.
So I stand by the door.
Go in great saints; go all the way in -
Go way down into the cavernous cellars,
And way up into the spacious attics.
It is a vast, roomy house, this house where God is.
Go into the deepest of hidden casements,
Of withdrawal, of silence, of sainthood.
Some must inhabit those inner rooms
And know the depths and heights of God,
And call outside to the rest of us how wonderful it is.
Sometimes I take a deeper look in.
Sometimes venture in a little farther,
But my place seems closer to the opening.
So I stand by the door.
There is another reason why I stand there.
Some people get part way in and become afraid
Lest God and the zeal of His house devour them;
For God is so very great and asks all of us.
And these people feel a cosmic claustrophobia
And want to get out. 'Let me out!' they cry.
And the people way inside only terrify them more.
Somebody must be by the door to tell them that they are spoiled.
For the old life, they have seen too much:
One taste of God and nothing but God will do any more.
Somebody must be watching for the frightened
Who seek to sneak out just where they came in,
To tell them how much better it is inside.
The people too far in do not see how near these are
To leaving - preoccupied with the wonder of it all.
Somebody must watch for those who have entered the door
But would like to run away. So for them too,
I stand by the door.
I admire the people who go way in.
But I wish they would not forget how it was
Before they got in. Then they would be able to help
The people who have not yet even found the door.
Or the people who want to run away again from God.
You can go in too deeply and stay in too long
And forget the people outside the door.
As for me, I shall take my old accustomed place,
Near enough to God to hear Him and know He is there,
But not so far from men as not to hear them,
And remember they are there too.
Where? Outside the door -
Thousands of them. Millions of them.
But - more important for me -
One of them, two of them, ten of them.
Whose hands I am intended to put on the latch.
So I shall stand by the door and wait
For those who seek it.
'I had rather be a door-keeper
So I stand by the door.
love how u write and would love if u ever want to read any of my pieces bc i aspire to write similarly to u and wld value what u say ahh sorry this is really out of the blue 🥲