Monthly Archives: January 2008

The God without a name

The God who is without a name is inexpressible, and the soul in its ground is equally inexpressible, as he is inexpressible.

— Master Eckhart


The hidden God

– God is without name, for no one can say or understand anything of him… Hence if I say: ‘God is good’, this is not true. I am good, but God is not good… If I say further: ‘God is wise’, this is not true, I am wiser than he. If I say also: ‘God is a being’, this is not true; he is a being above being and a superessential negation. A master says: If I had a God whom I could know, I would not think him to be God…

– God becomes God when the creatures say: ‘God’.

— Master Eckhart

The flowers of the summers of my youth

The moon was full and brash that night. We ran out and all around the silver. The nightscape was treacherous with mercury streams and shadows and branches, but we didn’t care. My God that shit was strong. I climbed a tree and jumped out into space and down from I don’t know how high and rolled and kept running I didn’t know where. The others shambled like mad wraiths across the meadow and stared up at the stars. I stopped and looked at them and gloom came down on me… I thought of how it would be if we were sober. We wouldn’t even be there. We’d be lounging somewhere, watching TV, playing pool. Or if we were there, we’d be strolling at random, kicking tufts, snorting when someone made a lame joke… It was either that or this and a grey world the next day. I took another pill and pretended I was a shooting star across the wild grass, and the rush to the brain blasted the questions in my head until I woke up the next morning, so I did the same the next night, except I did it alone, because no matter how high I got I hated the way the others got, hated looking at them.

The thirst

It is as if a man had a violent thirst. He could yet do something else but drink and could also think of other things; yet, whatever he did or with whomsoever he were together, whatever his intention or thought or work, the image of the drink will not leave him as long as his thirst lasts; and the greater his thirst, the more intense, the more interior, present and constant the image of the drink.

— Master Eckhart (trans. Hilda Graef)

Now it is time that gods came walking out

Now it is time that gods came walking out
of lived-in Things…
Time that they came and knocked down every wall
inside my house. New page. Only the wind
from such a turning could be strong enough
to toss the air as a shovel tosses dirt:
a fresh-turned field of breath. O gods, gods!
who used to come so often and are still
asleep in the Things around us, who serenely
rise and at wells that we can only guess at
splash icy water on your necks and faces,
and lightly add your restedness to what seems
already filled to bursting: our full lives.
Once again let it be your morning, gods.
We keep repeating. You alone are source.
With you the world arises, and your dawn
gleams on each crack and crevice of our failure…

— Rilke (trans. Stephen Mitchell)

Rain, rocks and gold

A pessimist is someone who is waiting for it to rain. But I’m already soaked to the skin.

— Leonard Cohen

If I knew for certain that all my rocks would be changed into gold, the more and the larger rocks I had, the more pleased I would be.

— Master Eckhart

I change, I am the same

The clouds change. The seasons pass over our woods and fields in their slow and regular procession, and time is gone before you are aware of it. In one sense, we are always traveling and traveling as if we did not know where we were going. In another sense, we have already arrived.

— Thomas Merton