{"id":29350,"date":"2026-03-05T09:12:12","date_gmt":"2026-03-05T14:12:12","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/?p=29350"},"modified":"2026-03-05T09:12:19","modified_gmt":"2026-03-05T14:12:19","slug":"see-to-your-sacraments-wherever-you-find-em","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/2026\/03\/see-to-your-sacraments-wherever-you-find-em\/","title":{"rendered":"See to Your Sacraments Wherever You Find ‘Em"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
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[Image: “Plumbing the Divine,” by John E. Simpson. (Photo shared here under a Creative Commons License; for more information, see this page<\/a> at <\/em><\/em>RAMH.)<\/em>]<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

From whiskey river’s commonplace book<\/a><\/em>:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

Another Poem of the Gifts<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I want to give thanks to the divine
Labyrinth of causes and effects
For the diversity of beings
That form this singular universe,
For Reason, that will never give up its dream
Of a map of the labyrinth,
For Helen’s face and the perseverance of Ulysses,
For love, which lets us see others
As God sees them,
For the solid diamond and the flowing water,
For Algebra, a palace of exact crystals,
For the mystic coins of Angelus Silesius<\/span>,
For Schopenhauer,
Who perhaps deciphered the universe,
For the blazing of fire,
That no man can look at without an ancient wonder,
For mahogany, cedar, and sandalwood,
For bread and salt,
For the mystery of the rose
That spends all its color and can not see it,
For certain eves and days of 1955,
For the hard riders who, on the plains,
Drive on the cattle and the dawn,
For mornings in Montevideo,
For the art of friendship,
For Socrates’ last day,
For the words spoken one twilight
From one cross to another,
For that dream of Islam that embraced
A thousand nights and a night,
For that other dream of Hell,
Of the tower of cleansing fire
And of the celestial spheres,
For Swedenborg,
Who talked with the angels in London streets,
For the secret and immemorial rivers
That converge in me,
For the language that, centuries ago, I spoke in Northumberland,
For the sword and harp of the Saxons,
For the sea, which is a shining desert
And a secret code for things we do not know
And an epitaph for the Norsemen,
For the word music of England,
For the word music of Germany,
For gold, that shines in verses,
For epic winter,
For the title of a book I have not read: Gesta Dei per Francos<\/span>,<\/em>
For Verlaine, innocent as the birds,
For crystal prisms and bronze weights,
For the tiger’s stripes,
For the high towers of San Francisco and Manhattan Island,
For mornings in Texas,
For that Sevillian who composed the Moral Epistle
And whose name, as he would have wished, we do not know,
For Seneca and Lucan, both of Cordova,
Who, before there was Spanish, had written
All Spanish literature,
For gallant, noble, geometric chess,
For Zeno’s tortoise and Royce’s map,
For the medicinal smell of eucalyptus trees,
For speech, which can be taken for wisdom,
For forgetfulness, which annuls or modifies the past,
For habits,
Which repeat us and confirm us in our image like a mirror,
For morning, that gives us the illusion of a new beginning,
For night, its darkness and its astronomy,
For the bravery and happiness of others,
For my country, sensed in jasmine flowers
Or in an old sword,
For Whitman and Francis of Assisi, who already wrote this poem,
For the fact that the poem is inexhaustible
And becomes one with the sum of all created things
And will never reach its last verse
And varies according to its writers,
For Frances Haslam<\/span>, who begged her children’s pardon
For dying so slowly,
For the minutes that precede sleep,
For sleep and death,
Those two hidden treasures,
For the intimate gifts I do not mention,
For music, that mysterious form of time.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

(Jorge Luis Borges, translated by Alan Dugan [source<\/a><\/em>])<\/p>\n\n\n\n

From elsewhere:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

As a child I memorized a short and elegant definition of a sacrament: \u201can outward sign signifying an inward grace.\u201d That is, a sacrament is an ordinary thing or activity that, to a properly educated imagination, signifies or points to a deeper spiritual meaning and power. The priest sprinkles holy water on your head and calls it baptism. Thoreau takes a bath and says that for him it\u2019s a spiritual action. As priests and theologians of our own religion, we can take almost any aspect of ordinary life and see its sacramentality, for everything can have an inward grace. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Which is what the Greeks were getting at by seeing gods, goddesses, and spirits of all kinds in every aspect of life. The philosopher Thales said, \u201cThe world is full of gods.\u201d These figures, far from being absurd or fanciful, help us see the holiness in anything. You can find Demeter, goddess of grain, in a supermarket, and Hermes, god of crossroads, on Wall Street…<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Intention and style convert the commonplace into the spiritual.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

(Thomas Moore [source<\/a><\/em>])<\/p>\n\n\n\n

…and:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

Prayer of Light<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Plants only have two choices
to grow or to decay
as long as they grow more leaves
than what decays
they are still here
growing to the light
reaching up to the sun
without any deterrent
they thrive.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We are here like plants
and with every breath
We are meant to grow and thrive.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As long as there is light,
we will let it shine.
We were always meant to thrive.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Birds have a song
they sing and huddle in windows, branches,
any doorway or echoing archway
between stars and dawn
seeking just a breeze to take flight
to their future
and as they fly, we breathe.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I breathe,
Therefore I am.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As long as there is light,
we will let it shine.
We were always meant to thrive.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Bread rises with a little warmth
some of us even have a mother starter dough
to yield endless loaves
Some of us prefer rice
a little steam fattens dry seeds into many meals
if we have bread, if we have rice
we are meant to survive
with bellies that can be full
know the sun feeds us<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We grow more than enough to
feed all the children.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As long as there is light,
we will let it shine.
We were always meant to thrive.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Love is ever present when we share food
Love is ever present when we see people pet a stranger\u2019s dog
Love is ever present when we sit together and listen to each other\u2019s stories
Love is ever present when we simply care.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Little moments promise that love will not vanish.
When love is ever present
we do not need to be afraid
because love, like light, welcomes us.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Love lets us speak and be seen.
We do not need to be silent.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As long as there is light,
we will let it shine.
We were always meant to thrive.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As long as there is light,<\/span>
we will let it shine.<\/span>
We were always meant to thrive.<\/span><\/p>\n\n\n\n

As long as there is light,<\/span>
we will let it shine.<\/span>
We were always meant to thrive.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

( Jen Cheng [source<\/a><\/em>])<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Postscript for regular visitors:<\/strong> No, your eyes do not deceive you — this edition of the RAMH<\/em> “Whiskey River Fridays” series is indeed coming to you on a Thursday. Because, well, reasons: I won’t be able to post it tomorrow. And probably not Saturday, come to that. Apologies for the disruption to routine… maybe I’ll stop by in a few days and change the posting date, heh.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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[Image: “Plumbing the Divine,” by John E. Simpson. (Photo shared here under a Creative Commons License; for more information, see this page at RAMH.)] From whiskey river’s commonplace book: Another Poem of the Gifts I want to give thanks to the divineLabyrinth of causes and effectsFor the diversity of beingsThat form this singular universe,For Reason, that will never give […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":29361,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"_genesis_hide_title":false,"_genesis_hide_breadcrumbs":false,"_genesis_hide_singular_image":false,"_genesis_hide_footer_widgets":false,"_genesis_custom_body_class":"","_genesis_custom_post_class":"","_genesis_layout":"","h5ap_radio_sources":[],"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"activitypub_content_warning":"","activitypub_content_visibility":"","activitypub_max_image_attachments":3,"activitypub_interaction_policy_quote":"anyone","activitypub_status":"federated","footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"Jorges Luis Borges, Thomas Moore, Jen Cheng: 'See to Your Sacraments Wherever You Find 'Em'","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[183,247,251,4159],"tags":[1459,5179,5574,6280,6281,6282],"class_list":{"0":"post-29350","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","5":"has-post-thumbnail","7":"category-everyday-life","8":"category-ruminations","9":"category-poetry-writing_cat","10":"category-essays","11":"tag-jorge-luis-borges","12":"tag-thomas-moore","13":"tag-the-extraordinary-commonplace","14":"tag-jen-cheng","15":"tag-prayer","16":"tag-sacrament","17":"entry"},"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/03\/plumbingthedivine_johnesimpson_med.jpg?fit=1024%2C817&ssl=1","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p6kZSG-7Do","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/29350","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=29350"}],"version-history":[{"count":18,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/29350\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":29369,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/29350\/revisions\/29369"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/29361"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=29350"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=29350"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=29350"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}