Spiritual Reflection

 https://fb.watch/oTwOUMMJBl/?mibextid=Nif5oz

My reflection at this Celtic service starts at 39 minutes 39 seconds.

A Journey Adjacent to the Veil and Within the Labyrinth

 https://docs.google.com/document/d/1-FNVia8wixCxFNzGrEfGaUTVFblyNwIsCDTTYPAOO_w/edit

The Wild Goose and the Dove of Peace

 It has been along while since I have posted anything on this site.  I would like to remedy that.  This past October I entered my 78th year….And it has been quite a ride.  This modality has been a journal of sorts for me following the passage of my dear wife, Sherita, and as such it has run quite a gambit. Running from my story to the underpinnings of the philosophical, theological, spiritual, political, and social aspects of what I have called the conundrum which is I.  

In the next few posting I would like to try to picture some of the elements which have comprised the components of the spirituality in compassed by the title of this posting.  The Wild Goose and the Dove of Peace .

Actually, it’s been a while since I started this post and I find that I can edit it at this point. The wild goose is a Celtic metaphor for the Holy Spirit, and really is a part of what I am becoming and understanding the breath of what Christ was actually teaching For those who would hear. The next post is ,I hope, A link to a labyrinth walk installed some years ago by myself and friends from Waters edge church. It is linked to another post. I will post shortly which is a reflection. I am planning on presenting at a local church. All of this combined presents a picture I am very comfortable to be a part of. Pox et Bonum! RV

A Reflection on my life

 https://youtu.be/fxes81_7xPU?si=A0emIsg4RlWT5fyx

The Bookend by Richard

 

Richard Rohr's Daily Meditation

From the Center for Action and Contemplation

 

Week Thirty-eight

 

Interspiritual Mysticism

 

 

 

An Unspeakable Name
Monday,  September 21, 2020

 

Remember what God said to Moses: “I AM Who I AM” (Exodus 3:14). God is clearly not tied to a name, nor does God seem to want us to tie Divinity to any one name. Which is why, in Judaism, God’s statement to Moses became God’s unspeakable and unnamable identity. Some would say that the name of God literally cannot be “spoken,” only breathed. [1] Now that was very wise, and sometimes I wish we had kept it up. This tradition alone should tell us to practice profound humility in regard to God, who gives us not a name, but only pure presence—no handle that could allow us to think we “know” who God is or have the divine as our private possession.

The Christ is always far too much for us, larger than any one era, culture, empire, or religion. Its radical inclusivity is a threat to any power structure and any form of arrogant thinking. Jesus by himself has usually been limited by the evolution of human consciousness in these first two thousand years, and held captive by culture, nationalism, and Western Christianity’s own cultural captivity to a white, bourgeois, and Eurocentric worldview. We have often missed the ways Jesus reveals himself, because “there stood among us one we did not recognize” (John 1:26). He came in mid-tone skin, from the underclass, a male body with a female soul, from an often-hated religion, and living on the very cusp between East and West. No one owns him, and no one ever will.

Jesus clearly says naming God correctly is not the priority, “Do not believe those who say ‘Lord, Lord’” (Matthew 7:21; Luke 6:46. Italics added). It is those who “do it right” that matter, he says, not those who “say it right.” Yet verbal orthodoxy has been Christianity’s preoccupation, at times even allowing us to burn people at the stake for not “saying it right.” We ended up spreading national cultures under the rubric of Jesus, instead of a universally liberating message under the name of Christ. What I call an incarnational worldview is the profound recognition of the presence of the divine in literally “every thing” and “every one.”

I would go so far as to say that the proof that you are a mature Christian is that you can see Christ everywhere else. Authentic God experience always exp

ands your seeing and never constricts it. What else would be worthy of God? In God you do not include less and less; you always see and love more and more. And it is from this place that we lose any fear we have about entering into discussion, prayer, and friendship with people of other faith traditions.

 

Gateway to Action & Contemplation:

AloHa!

RV

Pulling the Past Together and Wondering about the Future?

    After making many ovatures to likely matches I seem to be honing in on a family who's roots were from the East Coast(Rhode Island) extending down through the Southeast into Oklahoma  into Texas.  The family name is Mount, Originally from Kent, England.  There actually was a geneology book written by one of the family members. 

    One of my cousins recalled an Aunt speaking of one of her nephews who had joined the Navy out of high school(in Dallas).  The family dynamics had apparently been a bit tumultuous involving three marriages (by my Grandfather Victor Timothy) and some degree of estrangement from the rest of the family.  However I now had a name to work with and checked out Ancestry's military records for Victor Leon Mount.

    This search led to a conundrum of questions.  At first glance it gave Victor's record and enlistment path.  However the thread disappeared in 1946...and there was no record of his demise in the War.  Alexandria suggested that we try a DD214 directly from the military archives.  This did take a while but finally it did come in.....with one little problem.  The record was attached to an other name!  Michael Lee Walker.  Same Selective Service #, same birthday, same date and place of enlistment, and same duty roster as Ancestry had for Victor??  I contacted the archive and asked what ???  Their advise was to research a new DD214 with Michaels name.  Here we go down another rabbit hole😕 ....This time the rest of his record was generated all of the way to his retirement to Florida......I said earlier that there was some strange dynamics in Leon's high school years.  Difficult enough to prompt him to change his birth name to that of his mom's new husband, Walker?!  I did find some city directory information which clarify things a bit.  I can't find a divorce record(yet) between Victor T and Virginia A nor a Marriage record(yet) between her and Evner A Walker.  However it seems according to the directories that Virginia was with Victor in Oklahoma City in 1930 and Evner in Dallas in 1931.  The really significant tidbit here is that Victor L would have been 10 or 11 years old when this came down soo...it isn't a huge stretch to see why he opted to change his name when he became an adult.    

    My Biodad, Michael, aka Leon, died in Florida in 1985 having finally married and having left no offspring, that he knew of, but three stepchildren by his wife, June.  Of course he didn't know of my existence and from his service record he was in the Pacific theater including, but not limited to Australia and Hawaii.  So who knows who may turn up in the future!  Not too long ago I finally connected with one of his stepsons in Florida, Duane Fish...He knew nothing of me, how would he, but did say that his stepdad did tell them that he had changed his name from Mount to Walker ....  

    Why have I felt the need to write this all down?  My seventy plus years have seen many changes and joys and a few disappointments.  But if I am learning anything it is that God doesn't make no junk!  And we should look for the fingerprint of the Divine in All things and especially in each other.

    Helene gave me up for adoption probably feeling that would be best for her new marriage.  I understand and honor that decision.  I must say emphatically that I have enjoyed my adopted life and have been abundantly blessed on this path.  I hope you can understand, also, my thankfulness that abortion was not readily available in 1944.  I would have liked to know her, however.  I am quite certain there are abundant joys and value to be experienced in both biologic and adoptive families.  I have experienced that and it sometimes bothers me a bit when unaware people denigrate either familial format.  We are all connected and both forms of family(among others) can be a fruitful experience.

  

    My greatest joys in my life are my children.  I do regret not having located Michael Lee before his passing.  But in the greater scheme of life I am hopeful he found great joy in his stepchildren with June.  And I think of him fondly whenever I come downwind of an 18 wheeler or a Greyhound bus :0)

    To Be Continued ??  

        I will be posting several documents and papers on here.  A lot of this is also on Ancestry.com under my public tree.  Any one who would like their headshot on that tree please send one to me. 

        On the post just before this string I mentioned a book that means a lot to me and then yesterday Richard's daily meditation was again very meaningful to me.  So the next post will be that morsel to share.  But first: 

A paternal linage going back to Kent England cir. 1560

From another Mount Geneology

Part of Ancestry Paternal side

    

    

Guess Who?

Early attempt to climb the Mountain

Treading Water with the Navy

Some More on Mom And Then the Doldrums

     Over the next few years we visited as a family many times.  Both South to Avo Amelia and  North to the Seldens in Seattle.  Alexandria was born shortly after meeting Avo Amelia and my brother Rich had a daughter, Crystle, about the same time.  The girls grew up apart but visited a lot during those years, and are still very close.  I got to know many cousins and aunts/uncles but none of them had further knowledge of Helene's little indescretion , that would be me.  I even met  Bud Tucker, an old boyfriend of Helene's.  They both worked at the "Porthole", just off Georgia St in Vallejo.  With little dates on pictures and such it seemed they were an item prior to 1944 and he had no new information to share.  Everyone I met were on the (De)Souza side of my maternal history.  My maternal Bio grandfather, Manual Vincente, was from Lisbon Portugal.  He and Avo met and married in Oakland.  According to Amelia he did have cousins in the old country.  She divorced him in the 30's and had several self induced abortions.  She felt he was abusive and a philanderer.  She had her opinions and for whatever reasons it seems to me that she was a very independent driven woman for a Roman Catholic wife in that era.

    This story, so far, starting almost forty years ago, has been a journey following one picture, one newspaper article or document, one shred at a time leading to what I felt was my maternal biohistory.  

No where was there a "proof" of my linage and very little information on my mysterious "Bio dad".  At one point I was able to speak to an archivist at Providence where I was adopted.  She said there was very little information about my father.  The notes given by Helene indicated that my father was a red headed Irish submarine sailor.  He was a diesel motor mechanic.  Another irony is that I have always loved the smell of diesel fumes, not gas, just diesel...As sketchy as this seems it had a great influence about forty years later,  So I was essentially dead in the water in my search unless something new popped up.  And then along came DNA and Ancestery .com.  Several years ago Alexandria suggested I sign up and see where it led.  I did and did it ever go somewhere! 

    The first results showed up a definite Portuguese(Iberian Peninsula) component.  And besides Alexandria being my daughter(and since then my son Michael as well) It confirmed three of my nieces from the Selden clan in Washington.  And as I was soon to discover several other distant cousins and such from the DeSouza tree.  So this, of course, gave that proof element I had been searching for all those years.  And then as if more proof was needed another niece showed up, Nina, who was the daughter, by another mother, of my half brother Richard.  This match actually showed up on the 23 and Me DNA site.  So besides confirming my maternal link there is now another tool available in my Biodad search.  With one assumption, that my Biodad was not Portuguese, then any match showing up on Ancestry who had no Iberian Peninsula would probably be related to my Biodad.  This, of course, was just an assumption but guessing that he was supposed to be a red headed Irishman made that assumption more likely accurate.  To Be Continued:

These are the Ancestry Trees reflecting the Maternal links

Seattle Connection

     Following that Friday night I called a couple of my brothers or their wives and introduced myself.  I then called Howard Selden, Helene's husband and told him my story.  I had found out more information once I met Grandma such such as Helene and Howard's Marriage certificate from Washington which gave his address as the "USS Portland"

    He listened very politely and then hit me up the side the head(on the phone) with one sentence.  "That is a very interesting story but I married Helene in 1944 (June as I recall) and she was not pregnant nor have a child in 1944"....That kind of threw me for a loop,  and all I could do was appologize for bothering him and penitently hang up.

    Something really didn't make sense....So I wandered up Bridge street to the SOSC library where I wandered into the History section and (#2 irony) found a book on Naval ship movements during WWII.  I had his ship name, USS Portland, and it was listed as having come into Mare Island NSY the end of January 1944....And having left for the Philippine Islands in August.  The USS Portland didn't return Stateside until 1945.

    Armed with a few other facts such as on their marriage license in Renton, Washington his address was the Portland AND her address was the same as the one on my illgotten birth certificate.  I could only come up with one conclusion...When Howard came into port my mom was already pregnant with me.  AND she hid that fact from him until he shipped out.  She was living in Vallejo and visiting Providence Hospital in Oakland who handled the adoption two months later.  She was a small woman and probably didn't "show" prominently until later in term. My wife Diana similarly showed with our first child, Veronica.  

    My next step was to try to meet Howard in person at his home in Federal Way, Washington.  I walked up to his door and requested to talk.  Again he was very polite and listened to my story along with what data I had on hand.  He never accepted me as Helene's son but he did acknowledge one thing at the end of that visit.  He said "It could have happened the way you relate it because when I left Mare Island  she was working at one restaurant and when I returned (some eight months later) she had changed jobs to another restaurant"  Hardly a proof statement, for sure, but back then you didn't get maternity leave.  You just quit when the time was due.

    Over the ensuing years Michael, Jerry, and Richard came to accept me as the real deal, but Howard never did.

    About six months or so after first meeting Avo Amelia we had a visit in Ashland from her helpers, Carl and Virginia Mickleson.  Avo had sent them to meet me as they were on a road trip North from Antioch.  In our conversation Ginny was telling me a story from several months before I first met Avo Amelia.  Ginny walked in on Avo one day while she was praying the Rosary.  Ginny asked her for what she was praying?  Carl and Ginny were Christians but not so familiar with the Catholic Rosary.  Avo Amelia told her that " she was praying to someday meet the grandchild she never knew"!!  WOW!  So I knew another trip South was in store soon.  

    In my previous conversations with her this story had never come up And I did have some concerns about the story so far.  Meaning that here was my 87ish old grandmother who made No qualms about her intense dislike for Howard as she blamed him for her only daughters untimely passing.  Helene died at home from alcoholic complications in 1970.  She was a tiny lady who married into a party focused Navy officer's life.  This could have led her to accept me as an alternative family path.  As wierd as that sounds, this latest story comes from a third party related before I first showed up at her door that  Friday night.

    On my next chance to go South I assked Avo Amelia to tell me the whole story.  She related that at somepoint, in the Spring of 1944, Helene visited her home.  Amelia could tell she was pregnant but she never asked and Helene never voluntered anything !??   Several months later Helene again visited, this time not pregnant.  Amelia never asked and Helene never elucidated, Again!?? Very strange to me but that just seemed to be the privacy thing between them... 

    To Be Continued:

       This is the first family tree I put together some thirty years ago.  At the time only including my Portuguise connection

    

Page Two

 Page Two

    One day in 1976ish Bill called me and let me know that he had found and looked into his sealed birth certificate at the Alameda County courthouse.  He also saw mine but he didn't unseal it at the time.  I subsequently headed to the Bay Area as soon as practical.  We never got into trouble for this violation but since then they have moved all archived records to Sacramento.

    On that foray into my hidden history I did confirm my Bio mom's name and address at my birth in 1944.  There was No information on my Bio father.  

    Armed with her full name, Helene Ann Vincent(e), I embarked on a search of marriage records(none located in California) and birth records which did yield her parents names and location.  Of course they had long left the ranch they lived on, in Benicia, before the bridge was built.  Years later, when I did find my Bio grandma(Amelia Costa) she told me about watching them build the Carquinez Bridge(1922-27).  Of course, on Helene Ann Vincent(e) birth certificate the name Amelia Costa was not listed and her maiden name was DeSouza.

So for the time being I just looked in phone books of the Bay Area under the name Vincent or Vincente.  One afternoon in 1984 I spoke with a cousin of  Helene's.  He remembered playing with her as a child and he thought she had married, moved away, and since had passed away...But he thought her mom, Amelia, was living somewhere in the East Bay.  Soo...I started seeking out DeSouza's in the county.  I found no listing for Amelia Souza or DeSouza or Vincente.  I finally did connect with her sister in law in West Pittsburg(California), married to her brother John.  She took my story and said she would call Amelia(unlisted phone) and get back to me.  Within the hour she called me back and said Amelia would like to meet me.  I headed over to the Antioch address she gave me with no small degree of trepidation!

Here I go to meet a lady in her 80's, claiming to be her illegitimate grandchild from forty years ago.  I feared I would give her a heart attack.

My fears were relieved when she opened the door.  It felt like we were connected at once,  It just felt like we were family.  We spoke for over two hours during which time she told me of my Bio mom(who had passed away in 1970), And my three half brothers in Seattle, And her widow, Howard, who Amelia had No love for!  I left and drove North to Ashland on Cloud 9 or 10.

To Be Continued:

The Bob Story

 

The Bob Story

I am trying to put down my story as it seems the older I get, the more I forget ...And the more I am finding out.  This genetic time line has taken many twists along the path but in spite of dead ends and lost links it has been very colorful and fruitful over the past forty plus years.  Soo here goes.  Most of this connection is recorded in other formats but primarily now on Ancestry.com utilizing the family tree function.  A seeker of DNA components to their past could use other companies.  However it is a fact that these guys have the biggest database to work with and when searching the world for answers that size does matter.  It can also lead you astray as there are many rabbit holes out there.  I should probably title this “The Bob’s DNA Story”...However..it is very important that anyone seeking information as I have to realize that there is so much more in your makeup than DNA.  DNA is very important but culture and nuclear family are at least as important.  That is why I wince when people use terms like “my Real parents”.  Jack and Virginia were my real parents as were my bioparents, and Bill is my very real brother.

The conundrum to be known as Robert Michael Vlach was born on October 7th 1944 at Providence hospital in Oakland, California.  At birth I was adopted by John Tormey and Virginia Mary Vlach.  My first home was on a ranch near Port Chicago in Contra Costa county owned by Jack’s parents John Douglas and Loretta Vlach.

In August 1946 my parents adopted another boy from the same hospital, William Patrick.

We lived on the ranch until my dad passed away in our mid teens, from heart valve failure.  A result of Rheumatic Fever in his early years.  Probably one of the first of many ironic twists in my life’s journey was that a couple of years later they invented the artificial heart as well as the use of replacement heart valves from pigs. 

Following the passing of my adopted father, Bill, mom and I moved to Sacramento to be closer to her brothers.  We both finished high school in Sacramento and then I went on to Sacramento State College to graduation.  Bill went to San Francisco following high school, going first to San Francisco State and then on to a very successful career in the mental health field.  Our mom never kept our adoption status a secret but she had very little information in her records and neither Bill or I really pursued our histories in earnest until many years later,

To Be Continued:

At the End of a Pause

This blogsite has been handy for me for many years.  The most useful function has been mostly as an online journal, helping me to reflect on many subjects from the loss of Sherita to the continuing journey of myself in the realms of philosophy, spirituality, politics.  Alot of the most recent posts have been related to the practice of labyrinth facilitation and construction.  At any rate there have not been many posts on here since moving to Kauai. Maybe that is because I have felt that my point of understanding and comfort has been approached....That may be somewhat true but I still am desirious of finding that symbiotic companion to suppliment my life over here.  And I suppose after the last Presidential election I have kind of gone into hiding in the hopes we, as a nation, get our collective head out of our collective Okole!  

Having just returned from Palmdale, California visiting Michael and Garret I am now on quarentine in my home in Kalaheo for two weeks because of the concerns over Covid 19 virus.  This seems the ideal time to reconnect to this blog...The primary need to do this now is to codify the most recent developments in my adoptive journey.  Much of which has actually come to light in the past few years.  And this transitionary post has as its pictorial heading a book I am reading and which our centering prayer group are sharing weekly.  "The Universal Christ" is one of the latest books by Fr Richard Rohr.  I call it his Magnum Opus or his greatest work.  If you have ever read a book and find it difficult to highlight significant passages then that describes this one.  All of this is significant and Kind and Loving and Transformative.  It truly encapsulates the essence of most of his work, and that of others as well, from the past fifty years.  Not to even try to compare my feeble work on this site to his but my point is that for me I have pretty much put that which is me out here on this blog.  From here out I am kind of fleshing out little things like my DNA and adoptive history.  Pax et Bonum! RV   

A Lenten Walk in God's Creation

This post marks just about a full year since my move to Kauai.  The Labyrinth at Maha'ulepu has been arguably the most single significant reason for that move, not withstanding the "Dream" Labyrinth still out there as the next generation of this modality.
I hope to post a few photo's to aid other seekers to find this memorial labyrinth on the remote SE shore on Kauai.
Since this labyrinth is not on any official maps of the South Coast one must navigate off of the existing points of reference.  Specifically You can hike along the bluffs and beaches East of the Grand Hyatt for 3+ miles until arriving near Kamala Point.  You have just walked past the Labyrinth when you reach this point(just look Mauka).
You can also drive out the cane road(dirt/rock), from the end of the paved portion of Poipu Rd, following all signs and warnings.  When you reach Kawailoa Bay(the East end of Maha'ulepu sandy beach)  you park and walk out along the bluff to Kamala Point.  It is also possible to park about halfway out (at CJM Stables) to cut the longer hike to a more leisurely distance.
Eiother way you get there I pray you enjoy and honor this wonderful part of God's Creation.  Pax Christi! RV

Recollection ~ Quiet ~ Union

This posting is an excerpt from Richard Rohr's weekly summary of his meditations.  I found this particular piece to be very special in two ways.  In the first consideration I just love the poetic way that Mirabai writes and I'm not a particular great fan of poetry, but she is special in her phraseology.
Secondly, my approach to Labyrinth modalities in the past few years seems to have a correspondence to this particular message of St Teresa of Avila.  As I read this I could envision one reflecting on the "Prayer of Recollection" on the entry of your labyrinth.  And the "Prayer of Quiet" within your center.  And finally the "Prayer of Union" on your Joyful Exit into the world.  Enjoy! Pax Christi!  Roberto

.

In CAC's recent issue of Oneing, Mirabai Starr reflects on the three stages of prayer taught by Teresa of Avila (1515-1582) in her book The Way of Perfection. She invites us into deepening intimacy with God:   Teresa names the first stage the Prayer of Recollection. When we make the effort to set aside time to be still and turn inward, we gather all our faculties to a single point of concentration and invite the presence of the sacred to enter us. . . . In this state, we may find that what the Buddhists call "monkey mind" continues to chatter for a while, but gradually things settle down and a kind of spaciousness begins to open between the thoughts, and that's where the Holy One slips in to sit beside us.   The Prayer of Recollection involves our active participation. It requires discipline, concentration, and a willingness to endure both mental turmoil and spiritual aridity. It is an act of purification; by scouring the vessel of our souls with the practice of prayer, we empty ourselves so that the Beloved may fill us.   At that point, we may enter the Prayer of Quiet. Now that the labor of recollection has cleansed us, we are ready to receive the infusion of divine light. This is a state of grace. . . . Once we have gathered our senses and intellect, a feeling of deep peace and quietude may wash over us like a warm wave. This is an exceedingly delicate experience. . . . We cannot manufacture or manipulate this stage of prayer. We can only make ourselves ready to receive it when it comes and, in the words of the late meditation teacher Stephen Levine, we "hold on tightly and let go lightly." [1]   In Teresa's final stage, the Prayer of Union, any sense of an individualized self slips away. The soul merges with the Divine, like a drop of water into the boundless sea. The Beloved, who, as it turns out, has longed for the lover as fervently as she has desired him, makes her one with him. The Prayer of Union is usually fleeting, but its impact endures. Each time God blesses us with these unitive experiences, we are forever transformed. We are likely to still bumble through the human condition, behaving unskillfully at times and with more grace at others, but with each taste of union we identify a little less with the individual personality and more with our essential unity with the Divine. We are less likely to take passing circumstances as seriously as we used to. Our values shift from acquiring security to serving the One through being of service in the world.   The contemplative life is not a matter of achieving some artificial state of perfection available only to the spiritual elite, who glide past the obstacles that throw off the rest of us. It is a matter of being so fully present to the moment that we cannot help but catch a glimpse of God in all that is. "Which of my blessings," the Holy One asks in the Qur'an, "will you deny?" [2]   Teresa of Avila is one of the great advocates and models of the power of simply sitting for a few minutes each day in silence and stillness, and striking up a conversation with the One who is waiting to love us unconditionally, the One who will never leave us, the One who is not different from the essence of who we truly are. [3]

"I find it especially significant that in her writing Mirabai incorporates thoughts from the Christian but also the Buddhist and Muslim traditions"  RV

Free To Be All We Can Be

Recently I have met someone who speaks my language and seems to see life with very similar eyes and spiritual focus.  There are many of us out there, I’m sure, and prayerfully the number is growing even as it seems the daily world is falling apart in front of us.  The really cool thing is to realize that the path is really very simple and it is an inside job.  

It has been a great week on many fronts and it has not been devoid of problems but they have been resolved for the most part.  A loving community helps.  I have greatly Loved having my children home from parts afar for the celebration of our family and the birth of our nation.  This nation still has a great Manifest Destiny in its future but not in the form it has been used in the past.  I know in a past post I mentioned a book by Marianne Williamson titled “Healing The Soul of America”.  I would like to encourage the reading of her work again.   We are Blessed but one by one must realize that with great blessing comes great responsibility.  I hope and pray that  I may be able to remain vertical long enough to see my children pick up the torch!   

I close this brief post with a quote I found to really encapsulate my mission in this life!  

“My presence here is to provide services for joining in community… each of us elevates each others spirits and this is the gift of giving and receiving grace. It is an honor to offer these services and products for enjoyment, healing, and connection.” Rev Nancy Moore   from the website ArtSpiritMedicine.com   Pax Et Bonum! Roberto

Mercy! Me!

http://myemail.constantcontact.com/Richard-Rohr-s-Meditation--The-Ark-of-the-Covenant.html?soid=1103098668616
The link above will connect you with Richard's CAC website.  Below I have reproduced this particular meditation( highlights in red are my addition) to make just a few observations.  The past month has seen my sojourning about Scandinavia in search of their ancient past especially related to the modality of labyrinth utilization.  My feelings are reported in the adjacent  post but the net result somewhat supports my thought that labyrinths are just "what you make of them".  As a tool for contemplation they can be beautiful but so can many other modalities, a beautiful sunset on the beach for instance.  The highlighted sections of the post below I believe really appropriately point to the connection between authentic contemplation and the embracement of Mercy.
It seems that our ancestors, the First Nations Peoples all over the world  had a handle on this idea.  Of course there is the issue of survival and meeting the basic needs for civilization that has influenced how merciful and peaceful peoples have been.  It is a goal to strive toward and I believe that in today's world we have a transcending soul rising up which will make us truly "The Body of Christ" and Mercy and Love will Win.  Lord Have Mercy!  Pax Christi!  RV

Richard Rohr's Daily Meditation

Transformation: Week 1

The Ark of the Covenant Monday, June 27, 2016

In his book The Soul's Journey into God, Franciscan theologian Bonaventure uses a most wonderful Old Testament metaphor to describe the contemplative mind; he says it is like the Ark of the Covenant housed within Israel's temple. [1] Exodus 25 describes in great detail how the Ark was to be built. It was first of all a kind of traveling temple so the Israelites could carry God around with them, wherever they went, until they finally settled the Ark in Solomon's permanent temple. But it didn't really hold God, which would have been idolatrous. The Ark of the Covenant was instead the "place-holder" for God--a brilliant metaphor! The open space above the Ark of the Covenant was rightly called the "Throne of Mercy." Two golden cherubs protected the empty space, directly facing each other. "In that space," God says, "I will meet you" (Exodus 25:22). Mercy multiplies inside such open and free space. This is the work of contemplation--"guarding your mind and your heart" (Philippians 4:7) so that a Larger Presence can show itself. Such silence and emptiness is open to infinite horizons and True Transcendence in the way that nothing else quite is. Words always whittle God into small parts that we can seemingly grasp and understand. Read Max Picard's classic book, The World of Silence, where he masterfully describes this phenomenon. [2] The golden cherubs protect an infinite opening, a silent unknowing that is a different kind of knowing altogether, a fully open space that only God can fill and inhabit, never our own small ideas and passing feelings. It is in this eternal, endless space where Yahweh rightly says to Israel, "I will meet you." Every other playing field is far too small. Protecting infinite, empty, and merciful space is precisely what you do in contemplative practice. Most of what we call thinking is narcissistic reaction to the moment. Moment by moment, you're judging things and labeling them, whether they attract or repel you. That really isn't thinking, but self-centered reactions and the stating of your preferences to yourself. It takes work to return to the Ark of the Covenant, the placeholder space within you that is quiet, that doesn't get caught up in all your commentaries and emotional evaluations, up and down, in and out, with or against. Some kind of contemplative practice will allow you to watch yourself doing all of this and notice how futile it all is. In contemplation, your inner witness is still, like the golden cherubs, and lets everything else float by. It observes and learns from your thoughts and sensations, but it doesn't attach to any of them. It lets go and lets go and lets go. This takes years of practice, until letting go becomes an art form. You learn not to be so opinionated, not to be emotionally dragged up and down, but to stay in this quiet place that watches everything come and go with calm equanimity. When you learn how to stay here, you'll recognize you are not your thinking and you are not your feelings. What you were thinking even an hour ago, you're not thinking anymore. Therefore it is not you. Your thinking is essentially unstable. Yet most people think they are their thinking! Such a life is inherently insecure. Many people in contemporary secular society have little solid ground on which to stand, to create a mature and happy life.

Gateway to Silence Teach me how to see.