A convergence of excerpts.
Read (reread, actually) this excerpt from Peterson’s Christ Plays in Ten Thousand Places about Rick Bass, “a very good writer…another Montana neighbor of mine.”
He lives in the Yaak, a wilderness area seventy miles north of my home. Besides being an excellent writer, he is a fervent environmentalist. I don’t know him personally but have seen him in action, and like very much what I see. Environmentalists care deeply about this creation; but a lot of them are also pretty mean – angry, sometimes violent. Rick Bass is small of stature, elf-like, energetic and laughing, it seems, most of the time. He holds parties for the loggers and miners, working for common ground, developing a language of courtesy and understanding.
The Rick Bass tribe needs to increase.
Why is it that often those most passionate about protecting the earth and the civil rights of other human beings can be so unmercifully snarky in their handling of their fellow human beings who aren’t on the same page yet? And by what love and logic does such rough treatment cause us to think we will accomplish anything more than further feed mutual antagonisms while merely accumulating at our feet our own dittoheading crowd? How does this ultimately advance the ball on the field that really matters?
Then this quote from Rohr. More spacious, second half of life musings that serves like commentary on the elf-like Mr. Bass:
Your concern is not so much to have what you love anymore, but to love what you have—right now. This is a monumental change from the first half of life, so much so that it is almost the litmus test of whether you are in the second half of life at all. Inner brightness, still holding life’s sadness and joy, is its own reward, its own satisfaction, and your best and truest gift to the world.
Such elders are the “grand” parents of the world. Children and other adults feel so safe and loved around them, and they themselves feel so needed and helpful to children, teens, and midlife adults. And they are! They are in their natural flow.
Strangely, all of life’s problems, dilemmas, and difficulties are now resolved not by negativity, attack, criticism, force, or logical resolution, but always by falling into a larger “brightness”—by falling into the good, the true, and the beautiful—by falling into God. All you have to do is meet one such shining person and you know that he or she is surely the goal of humanity and the delight of God.
Adam’s fall so needs to be met by this fall “into the good, the true and the beautiful.”
God how we need to fall.
And then, topping off this convergence of excerpts, this (Peterson channeling Paul in Philippians, phear not):
Celebrate God all day, every day. I mean, revel in him! Make it as clear as you can to all you meet that you’re on their side, working with them and not against them. Help them see that the Master is about to arrive. He could show up any minute!
Yes, we need to fall.
Oh how we need to fall into such brightness, such expectation, such hope, such beauty.
And if this is what “falling into God” truly meant for us, who would want to hold by clawing fingernail to such dark and bitter perches?