Mother Earth at her most colourful. These pictures were taken on the island of Mauritius (Chamarel, Black River District), where basalt outcrops with varied mineralizations weather into motherly and colourful images. Mutter Erde von ihrer farbigsten Seite. Diese Bilder entstanden auf der Insel Mauritius (Chamarel, Rivière Noire Distrikt) wo Basaltfelsen mit verschiedensten Mineraleinschlüssen verwittern und sowohl die mütterlichen, wie auch die farbigen Seiten unseres Planeten zeigen.
A stunning set of roots: Tree at Pendle Hill, Quaker Education Centre in Wallingford, PA.
Creating and committing to this blog site was one of the intentions for this year. So far, I can say that the journey has been a positive challenge and that I enjoy the process.
The picture itself is an expression of what I set out to do with my blog: An exploration of roots and what is growing from them.
I consider my life to be rooted. Using another word for roots derived from Latin, I can say I consider my life to be radical.
In an early blog entry, I explored that connection between roots and radicalism. Read it here: Ofradix the name.
I would like to continue throughout the year to put my faith into action – and the OFRADIX blog is one of the tools for me to do so. It is my hope to use the strength of my roots to sprout a tree and to be a living testimony for what I believe in.
“At the center of our being is a point of nothingness which is untouched by sin and by illusion, a point of pure truth, a point or spark which belongs entirely to God, which is never at our disposal, from which God disposes our lives, which is inaccessible to the fantasies of our own mind or the brutalities of our own will. This little point of nothingness and of absolute poverty is the pure glory of God in us… It is like a pure diamond, blazing with the invisible light of heaven. It is in everybody, and if we could see it we would see these billions of points of light coming together in the face and blaze of a sun that would make all the darkness and cruelty of life vanish completely…I have no program for this seeing. It is only given. But the gate of heaven is everywhere.”
Thomas Merton, Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander, 1968
.For more of my own writing related to the above quote, please follow the links below:
I have never been faithful, nor have I ever promised faithfulness in my life. And that’s the truth. My truth. Since I am not absolute, it could not be the absolute truth. Nonetheless, I stick with that truth, which makes me steadfast, and that is what faith is about. So, am I faithful after all, and thus not speaking the truth in the first place?
I hardly believe that worldly things are true. Just because you or I have witnessed something, and because you or I recall an event with certain confidence, does not make them true. An action might have been the right thing to do, or it might have been justifiable from a particular point of view.
How would I know that something is so true that I believe in it? I would have to trust – in an action faith – that my observation has no bias whatsoever. So, can a person who does not believe in the truth be a faithful person, or would such a person automatically be unfaithful?
I guess it depends. But certain things are unconditional and as such would not depend. They are, and I am certain of them. For instance, I believe in the good of every human being, but I don’t believe that any such being knows the truth; at least some truth – yes, and from a unique point of view. And I believe in the common good – because we are all One.
Since I have no proof for the above statements, nor have I observations to support these claims, I need to believe them – which makes me faithful again. Or at least half full. But never unfaithful.
And you can believe me or not, without loosing your faith.
kannst du mir dieses Jahr ein kleines Velo bringen? Ich möchte so gerne mit den anderen Kindern draussen rumfahren.
Of course, these old letters to the Christ child are long gone and likely out of fashion. Our parents encouraged us every year to write them at some point in December, sort of like a wish list. But there was no equivalent to Santa and its spending power anywhere in sight. Our desires were usually well above the willingness and ability of our parents to comply.
So, I have very few memories of those Christmas wishes. But I certainly remember my wish to have a bicycle. There was mom’s old 3-speed in the garage; but it was rarely sufficient to meet the mobility needs of four youngsters, and it was even a rarer occurrence when we had allowed access to the use of the elegant two-wheeled cruiser.
The wish was carried forward and finally came true when I had some of my own earned Swiss francs. Now some thirtyfive years later, the bicycle is still a preferred mode of transportation, and one that can be fun once in a while, too.
[This is another blog post responding to the Daily Prompts, part of an exercise to expand my writing skills.]
Invite somebody to read - Lade jemand zum lesen ein: