Jackie Summers on The Physics of Wishing

I've followed Jackie Summers on Facebook and on his Substack for several years. Based on what I know of his life story, he is a human phoenix. Much respect to him. He's an eloquent thinker and writer, as well as the first Black person in America with a license to make liquor. He created a drink based on the generational recipe from the African-Indiginous heritage of Barbados: Sorel Liqueur.

His recent post was about The Physics of Wishing, and I wanted to bookmark it for future reference. The entire post is worth reading. 

But the core of what I want to post are his instructions as follows:

How to Actually Send a Wish

(No physics degree required)

If any of those landed in your chest and you thought, “I hope that’s true for somebody I love”— here’s how you turn that into a real wish.

You don’t have to believe in magic. You just have to be willing to try an experiment.

1. Breathe once, on purpose.
Inhale a little slower than usual.
That’s your rhythm.

2. Let one person come to mind.
Just one. A friend, a lover, an ex, a parent, a stranger on the edge.

3. Find your stillness, set your intention.
Say it quietly in your head. Let your body feel what you mean.

4. Exhale slowly.
On that breath out, imagine the wish leaving your field and brushing theirs.

That’s it. That’s the whole spell.

No glitter. No angels getting their wings. Just a small increase in local coherence, from your nervous system to someone else’s.

NPR Tiny Desk Contest 2023 - Andrea Gibson - MAGA HAT IN THE CHEMO ROOM

 

 

Andrea Gibson's brilliant force has departed their body. They were a beacon of courage and compassion communicated through poetry. I mourn our loss. May their brilliance and love manifest forever. 

 

Andrea Gibson's website.

 

Andrea Gibson's Substack.

Perilous Dark Path

"We seldom go freely into the belly of the beast. Unless we face a major disaster like the death of a friend or spouse or loss of a marriage or job, we usually will not go there. As a culture, we have to be taught the language of descent. That is the great language of religion. It teaches us to enter willingly, trustingly into the dark periods of life. These dark periods are good teachers. Religious energy is in the dark questions, seldom in the answers. Answers are the way out, but that is not what we are here for. But when we look at the questions, we look for the opening to transformation. Fixing something doesn't usually transform us. We try to change events in order to avoid changing ourselves. We must learn to stay with the pain of life, without answers, without conclusions, and some days without meaning. That is the path, the perilous dark path of true prayer."

---Richard Rohr, Everything Belongs: The Gift of Contemplative Prayer

To Mistake the Footprints for the Animal Itself

"The great curse of fundamentalism, which appears in virtually all religions and ideologies, is to mistake the footprints for the animal itself. The instant a scripture or a doctrine or a dogma becomes more than an indication, and in practice becomes an inflexible external standard, the real problems of religion appear. Fundamentalism... becomes intolerant in its circular reasoning, imprisoned behind its protective barricades, fearful of sincere questioning and honest doubt, and finally abusive and even murderous."

--Addison Hodges Hart, The Ox-Herder and the Good Shepherd: Finding Christ on the Buddha's Path 

Practice, Practice, Practice

"The arts are not a way to make a living. They are a very human way of making life more bearable. Practicing an art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow, for heaven's sake. Sing in the shower. Dance to the radio. Tell stories. Write a poem to a friend, even a lousy poem. Do it as well as you possibly can. You will get an enormous reward. You will have created something." 

- Kurt Vonnegut

Art Meditation

 When I make art, especially when I am "just doodling," peace infuses me. I cherish the flow state. I remind myself that my journal is a playground, that I get to experiment, that crappy art is permitted, because it's the process I'm looking to engage with, not the product. I do enjoy when art I make is appealing to me or others, and yet my mental and spiritual health require this daily practice of flow, which is easiest to enter when all is permitted and nothing is judged. 

This Morning

 I slept well and woke refreshed.

My cup of coffee was particularly delicious. As I poured from carafe to mug, I noticed how smooth it was, how the aroma wafted up to me.

My child and I enjoyed some bantering and conversation preparing for and driving to school. 

It was a peaceful, quietly joyful morning.

These observations are worth noting and appreciating, because doing so reinforces them. This post is an antidote to the doomscrolling, the slightly tight and tense way I inhabit my body, the default position of general, low-level foreboding.

"Yes, and the luminous and shocking beauty of the everyday is something I try to remain alert to, if only as an antidote to the chronic cynicism and disenchantment that seems to surround everything, these days. It tells me that, despite how debased or corrupt we are told humanity is and how degraded the world has become, it just keeps on being beautiful. It can't help it."
 - Nick Cave and Seán O'Hagan
Faith, Hope and Carnage
booklover
& still, the waves

Prayer Doesn't Work; Praying Does

Denise Levertov writes: 

“With what radiant joy he turns to you, and raises you to your feet, and strokes your disheveled hair, and holds you, holds you, holds you close and tenderly—before he vanishes.” 

The homie Garry says, “God is the intake of breath and we are the exhaling of it. So… we need to take every breath personally.” Prayer is as sustaining as a breath and not a plea to God to keep us safe from dangers and temptations or begging for favors. For example: “God answers knee-mails.” Prayer doesn’t work; praying does. Not sure how else we breathe in the God of unfathomable compassion if not by our own spiritual practice and silent solitude. This allows us to land on God’s oceanic shore and it organizes things for us.

The Whole Language: The Power of Extravagant Tenderness
by Gregory Boyle