Thomas Jefferson Memorial Church -- Unitarian Universalist

Tracking the Mystery by Bob Kiefer

July 9, 2006

Once upon a time, there were three boys, three brothers, who grew up in a small town amid the corn fields and hog farms of Indiana. And one of the favorite pastimes of these three musketeers was to go to those special Saturday matinees at the Vogue Theater--where for 25 cents (yeah it was that long ago), for 25 cents they would spend the entire afternoon watching news reels, and Flash Gordon Serials, and not one, not two, but three westerns. Of course cowboys and Indians were very much part of their fantasy play time.

Some of the best summer days for these three were when the cowboy personas were set aside for those adventures when the three transformed themselves into three Indian Warriors, shirtless, war painted, bow and arrow in hand, stalking and tracking through the underbrush of Indiana fence rows and creek banks. I stand before you this morning, one of those boyish warriors from Indiana. Oh don’t be mislead by this façade of age, this gray hair, these progressive trifocals. If you look closely, you can still see traces of paint on the skin and glimpse that twinkle behind the trifocals that says the trickster/warrior is still very much alive. I am still that youthful Indian, once know as Brave Eagle.

Now, I have heard and read numerous times about the merits of meditation—of quieting the mind, of sitting still, of watching your breath, of removing thought, of just “being”. And I applaud the path of stillness—I recognize the need for it in my life—to provide balance to my ego drive to “fix the world.” But a warrior can sit still only so long! I rise today to speak on behalf of a more active path of spiritual development where instead of sitting and watching your breath, one travels through life watching life unfold. Instead of the path of “no thought,” I rise today to share with you how a sense of adventure, of mystery, of active thought can also serve as a tool for awareness.

One can spend hours sitting and studying and contemplating the mystery of life. I myself have done so. But Life is both mystery and adventure—Life needs to be actively lived. There is something about mystery that requires that we immerse ourselves in it, that we breathe it, move around in it, swim in it, even wallow in it. Perhaps you can recall the awe and wonder of watching children discover and learn—have observed their imagination and insight and openness. Perhaps you observed firsthand the newness and wonder with which they immerse themselves in their reality. How the end of one adventure only leads to the start of the next.

Half a century has passed since the boy, Brave Eagle, first put on paint and sought adventure. But One thing I know…that adventure continues, even today. There are always trails to follow that can draw one deeper into life. There are thoughts and sounds and visions enough to keep the adventure alive. We have to only be open to the signs, actively looking for them, vigilant for the next clue to the next step to the next discovery.

The book that rekindled my boyhood sense of adventure is The Tracker, by Tom Brown. It’s a true story of Tom’s adventures while learning tracking skills from an old Apache in (of all places) New Jersey. His tale has rekindled that boyhood sense of adventure and mystery in me.

Listen to how Tom Brown describes the art of tracking. “The first track is the end of a string. At the far end, a being is moving; a mystery, dropping a hint about itself every so many feet, telling you more about itself until you can almost see it, even before you come to it. The mystery reveals itself slowly, track by track. Further on, it will tell you the intimate details of its life and work, until you know the maker of the track like a lifelong friend.”

Now it seems to me that Tom Brown’s words apply not just to the tracking of animals in the wilderness but also to the tracking of the mystery in everyday life. That “mystery” is summed up in the words of Ralph Waldo Emerson: "Wherever we go, whatever we do, self is the sole subject we study and learn."

For me there is a Siren quality to life. A persistent song drawing me further, deeper, A constant invitation to keep moving, to not settle too deeply into the familiar, nor too firmly into the comfortable. But I also experience that as I heed that invitation and begin to move, the mystery remains just out of reach. Answers are not definitive, situations are not permanent. Even when I arrive at where I expected to find an “answer,” what I find is strangely less than fully satisfying. There is a sense of “There’s More” in every answer. My answers arrive with invitation in hand to continue further, to explore deeper. I can sense that what beckons me forward is right there—just beyond my grasp, just outside my peripheral vision—waiting to be discovered. The Adventure lies in that I don’t know exactly where the trail is leading, only that following it enlivens me.

Sometimes Life’s trail is such that we have to get down on our hands and knees and study closely, moving inch by inch, to be sure that nothing important is overlooked and our progress is slow and methodical. Other times we look ahead down the trail and see clearly the path left for us and can easily follow—even at a full run-- secure in where it leads. Life can seem so arbitrary, but the variety keeps me on my toes for the unexpected.

Anything can be the start of a trail.

For example: Here’s a trail that started with a sermon I heard. The priest was talking about The idea that The human mind cannot conceive of the totality of God Therefore if one’s idea of god does not continues to grow and expand one is practicing a form of idolatry. That began an examination of my own idea of God and whether it continues to expand and grow. But then, as that sermon echoed in my mind, I began to wonder if this idea of idolatry could not also be applied to ideas of things other than God. I began to question some of the other idols I had erected. My ideas about women? Ideas about myself? Ideas about marriage? Ideas about race? Ideas about anything for that matter? The echoes of that sermon still invite me to be aware of my assumptions, to look deeper, to examine more closely, to question more.

A moment of reflection can mark the beginning of a trail “Hmmmm. There I go letting that person get to me. He can really push my buttons. I get so angry with him. Can't he see he’s wrong?” Wow there it is again—ego—.I am so invested in being right that I’m not even listening to what he’s saying. Is there something else going on here other than who’s right? What if I took the unfamiliar path? and said: I’m sorry I got distracted there. Would you repeat what you were telling me? And then just listened? What could I discover down that trail?

Trails don’t always lead where we think they are going. A rabbit track doesn’t always lead to the rabbit. These WOW adventures are my favorites because they don’t take much effort to follow and the usually don’t pass through pain and doubt. As a warrior child, a rabbit print in the fresh snow led me to a creek bank where ice coated branches dipped into the frozen stream. The sparkle of the ice drew my eyes skyward in search of the sun. As I looked up I noticed how the winter chill created a cloud each time I exhaled. And then I noticed some clouds overhead and I began to wonder if the clouds up there were the breath of the earth. I stood there for moment breathing with the earth and became part of something awesome.

So what does a tracker do that turns each trail into an adventure? Mary Oliver in her Poem The Summer Day talks of it: “I don’t know exactly what prayer is. I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass, how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields which is what I have been doing all day.”

A tracker is aware. She observes. He notices. A tracker following a trail has antenna constantly tuned to the surroundings. What’s different? What’s the same? What do I see? What do I feel? What do I think? What does it mean? Where does it lead.? And probably most importantly, a tracker is willing to move in the direction the trail is leading.

A tracker does not follow blindly but with a knowledge base to understand what is seen or followed and with an openness to look beyond the obvious. Trackers learn the tricks of the one they track—how it tries to conceal its trail, how it behaves in various situations, various conditions. Trackers move through the moment, in the moment.

Thankfully, one does not have to have mastered these skills before one begins to approach life with a sense of adventure. One needs only to begin. To search out a trace of mystery. And then follow it. The more you look, the more you notice, and the more you notice the more aware you become, and the more skilled you become in moving to the next track, and as you continue to move you move with less effort. And a sense of joy and wonder begins to unfold.

Tom Brown describes it this way: “The mystery leaves itself like a trail of breadcrumbs, and by the time your mind has eaten its way to the maker of the tracks, the mystery is inside you, part of you forever. The tracks of every mystery you have ever swallowed move inside your own tracks, shading them slightly or skewing them with nuances that show how much MORE you have become that what you were.” To Tom Brown “Man goes through the world eating his mysteries.”

So I , Brave Eagle, invite you to Once in awhile, get up off that cushion, to paint your face, to turn on that inquisitive and seeking mind, step out of the familiar and the comfortable into this adventure we call life. To Revel in it. Then as we gather for our next “Campfire” we can share our stories and we will celebrate the “More” we have become through both the adventure and the sharing. Don’t worry, there will be time enough to return to the cushion, to sit, to be still.

It seems only fitting then to close with words from one of those early Saturday matinee, cowboy idols that Tom Brown’s book stirred from my memory. (Actually, these words are from the “cowgirl.”) They may sound familiar.

Some trails are happy ones,
Others are blue.
It's the way you ride the trail that counts,
Here's a happy one for you.

Happy trails to you until we meet again.
Happy trails to you, keep smilin' until then.