[Dialogue] More arrogance & perversion

[W. J.]

I had always thought that attending to my Meditative Council was an internal process... Now it happens via email! (Or at least the email generates much dialogue among my Meditative Council.)  
   
  
The discussion on primary and secondary integrity has really set me spinning about our life and mission together, and I’m very grateful for every colleague who drops a new insight from afar right in my lap. The synergy is amazing. Friday I was emailing Sarah Miller (ICAI) and mentioned work Mary D’Souza had done some thirty years ago. And within the hour, there was Mary, dropping into my lap insights from the Bhagavad Gita. Amazing! You guys are still alive & kicking.   
  
   
And if this weren’t far more than enough, here comes Mother Theresa from beyond the grave, letting us in on her internal experience of the Dark Night. I feel so blessed being a small part of this effulgence.  
   
  
  I also remind you (as though anyone needed it!) that, despite my occasionally authoritative tone, this NOT the voice of God, and that all I can offer comes from reflection on our common heritage.
  
   
     
     
Now for a true story:   
   
In 1968 I was traveling on a dark rural road after midnight with my boss, a clergyman. His car ran out of gas, and we literally coasted into a closed gas station on the fumes. No pay phone, no cell phone, no Triple A card, etc. And money couldn’t buy the gas that was in the storage tank.   
   
So we coulda spent the night in his car, fouled up our schedule, and missed our destination event the next day.  
   
  
What would you have done? No doubt about it. Clergyman jumps out and proceeds to siphon gas from a few junkers parked on the lot. (I wondered why he carried the equipment in his trunk!)  
     
   
Now if you resorted to siphoning and felt like a Miss Miller, you’d probably have put a dollar bill under the guy’s windshield wiper! Or if you were in a Maish mood, maybe you’d fill ‘er up with free gas instead of sipping just a gallon to get you to the next town.  
     
   
You think this story is about Secondary Integrity? Well, maybe it is, but I’ll tell you what real Secondary Integrity was for me that night. It wasn't about crowing or crying over a stolen gallon of gas.  
   
It included reading the signs of the times. And after the assassinations of King and Kennedy that year, I got the hell outa there and landed at 3444 Congress Parkway. And I’ve never regretted it. (pause... very serious thinking)  
   
OK, maybe I WAS kicking and screaming a lot AND crying in my beer...   
   
But I never cursed the day I joined the Order.  Marshall Jones
   
    
   
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