Myself, the Stranger

I googled Keaton Meditation and I found John Keaton an artist and designer in Philadelphia. What amazing work he creates. So wonderful, that I am posting the link to his collection on CafePress.

The website address is www.cafepress.com.

I like his work, but am unable to buy anything from Sudan using a credit card. Bummer. Please visit his work. I promise you I do not know the man.

Of course, the name that I was looking for was Keating, Thomas. I was wondering if he worte anything to deal with "the stranger," though I was thinking more of meeting a stranger rather than looking inward.

I had once tried Centering Prayer, but I found that my mind wandered too much. That was before being diagnosed as bi-polar, a condition that is hereditary and passed to me by my father.

(Those of us that deal with this know that diet (here is my plug for Macrobiotics), exercise (of which I do not enough), sleep, less stress, and medication can do wonders.)

Now, though my mind streams long, I am able to quiet it down to meditate. I learned even more about meditation from The Rev.Canon Lloyd Casson, my former priest and my mentor.

So, it is no coincidence that I arrived at Thomas.

I have been wondering about how to address the spiritual part of this journey, being currently surrounded by Arabic. At All Saints Cathedral in Khartoum, there are no English Books of Common Prayer. They use leaflets for the service.

When Amy died, I wanted to say the burial prayers for her, but I could not.
Therefore, when I return to the States, I will see about contributing at least five for the use by the English speaking congregation, letting Church Publishing deal with how to get them to Khartoum.

Creating a spritual journey that involves more than traveling around and experiencing differnt forms of worship has been difficult.

So, is it possible that Thomas is my key to integrating my experiences outwardly with God inwardly? Is this my sign from God? Do I really have to be hit over the head?

Back to the stranger that started all of this.

Over the past weeks, I have been told stories about myself from individuals that I have just met and then see sometimes everyday or not.

They tell me that I am not a stranger to them. I am part of them, one of them. One told me that I was a white African.

They tell me that I understand the Sudanese people, their way of life, their struggles, their dreams and their absolute faith that God is in charge of their lives and their future.

God has humbled me.

I can only manage to keep holding their hands,listening to their stories, sometimes with my eyes welling up.

I have no mirrors in Khartoum. I cannot see myself on a daily basis.

Is God then providing me with a different mirror? A mirror that allows me to see myself in the eyes of others?

Why do I fight this reflection?

Is this the work that Thomas and I must do together in partnership with God?